His Brat: A Dark Bad Boy Romance

by Isabella Starling

  Her mouth twitches and she smiles, and I’m a fool because I do the same, not caring whether Annabel sees me infatuated by this teenage vixen. I start walking over to her, and she does the same, and we meet somewhere in the middle. That is, until Annabel calls out to me. To us.

  “There you two are,” she says. “It’s high time you two finally met.”

  I just give her a blank look, and it takes me a long, painful moment to realize she is talking to both of us. As soon as I realize what’s going on, I can feel the color drain from my face, leaving me pale in its wake.

  Annabel gets up from her chair and walks over to my kitten. She smooths down her hair and gives her an air kiss. “I don’t like that lipstick on you,” she tells her, and I just fucking stare. This can’t really be happening, can it?

  “Max, this is my daughter,” Annabel says, shattering every hope I had of pretending this wasn’t real. “Lola Grace, this is my husband, Max Rivers.”

  We stare at each other. Her eyes are wider than ever, and all I can think about is finally finding out her name, in a way I never wanted to. Lola Grace. Fucking suits her, innocent and sexy at the same time. Jesus Christ.

  “Is something the matter?” Annabel finally asks, and Lola Grace blushes a red so deep it makes my dick twitch. I still can’t believe this is real. She can’t possibly be my wife’s daughter. My fucking sham of a marriage doesn’t need this new complication.

  “No,” I say as brightly as I can, pulling out a chair. “Everything’s perfectly all right. Great to finally meet you, Lola.”

  She glares at me, but I don’t meet her eyes. I hope she understands we need to play this cool. Her mother can never find out what happened between us last night. Jesus fucking Christ, I fucked my stepdaughter. Took her cherry, no less. I’m going to hell for this.

  “It’s Lola Grace,” my kitten corrects me icily, sitting on the chair I pulled out for her mother. Annabel gives me a confused look, and I can’t help the smile appearing on my face as her daughter takes center stage.

  This will not be easy.

  4

  Lola Grace

  That lunch is the most uncomfortable meal I’ve had in my entire life. My mother is icy as ever, and as for her new husband…. I barely manage to keep my hands firmly in my lap, because all I want to do is slap him and tear at his face, scratching that smirk off his lips.

  I can’t believe this is happening. It’s not only sick and perverted and wrong, it’s just… too much for me to handle. I didn’t even know my mother had a new boyfriend. We’ve never been particularly close, but I’d like to think she’d at least introduce me before she got hitched. Especially after the last debacle.

  I barely make it through lunch, and as soon as it’s over, I excuse myself, saying I need to get back to my apartment and feed my neighbor’s cat. I remember Max’s cat, the fat tabby without a name, and pain pricks at my heart.

  As soon as I make an excuse to leave, Max gets up, obviously intent on walking me out. My mother gives me a weird look, and he shrugs apologetically.

  “I was just going to call her a cab,” he tells her, and I fucking hate the look of intimacy that passes between them. I hate the thought of the man that has consumed my mind touching my mother.

  But there is something else, almost a tension between them. I don’t see them touch even once during our meal. The conversation between them is stilted and forced, and I can’t help but wonder what they see in one another.

  “I’m all right leaving by myself,” I tell Max sharply. “I’m an adult.”

  “Oh, that’s right, darling,” my mother says absentmindedly, tapping on her phone. “It was your birthday a while ago, wasn’t it?”

  “Yesterday,” I reply coldly.

  “Eighteen,” Max says so quietly that it’s almost a whisper. We both stand awkwardly around the table until I finally say goodbye and leave. I rush through the restaurant, desperate to get away from this fucked up telenovela I’ve found myself in.

  Still, I hear his footsteps following me, and Max catches up to me when I’m already on the street. “Wait, kitten, please…,” he hisses in my direction quietly, making sure no one overhears.

  I spin on my heels and glare at him hard. “You don’t get to call me that,” I tell him calmly, smoothing down my blouse. I can see his eyes follow my fingers, lingering on my neck, and then my breasts. I cross my arms protectively in front of myself. “You’re such a damn pervert.”

  “Stop, please,” he tells me, running his fingers through his disheveled hair. “You don’t know the whole story, Lola Grace. You don’t know what’s going on here.”

  “I don’t need to,” I stop him, waving my arms at a cab that’s driving down the street. “Don’t need to know a single other thing. Goodbye, Max.”

  I get into the car and leave him shouting something after me. I give the driver my address, never happier than I am right now to have my own apartment. After my mom remarried the first time, I knew I had to get away from her. She and her husband… they were toxic. And even though I loved my mother, I knew she didn’t love me. Never did, never will.

  So she hooked me up with my own apartment, in a building where her friend lived and made sure she checked up on me. I’ve been living by myself for a year now, and I’ve never been happier to have my own place. Being in the same house with Max would’ve been the stuff of nightmares.

  I look into the rearview mirror and see him kick angrily at the ground. He seems really pissed, and a part of me wishes I’d given him a chance to explain. But what is there to say, really? He fucked me while he was married to my mother. It’s disgusting. I hope I never see him again.

  Also, he’s ridiculously young for her. My bet is, this won’t last longer than a few months. And given what my mother does, trying to have her big break in politics, I don’t have a clue why she’s involved with a man like Max.

  I sigh as I lean against the window of the car. The glass is pleasantly cool against my forehead and I relish the feeling. I listen to the cab driver chattering away, and I try to pretend my heart isn’t pounding, the rhythm shouting Max’s name with each beat.

  I have some classes in the evening, and I go to all of them just to get my mind off things. I started school a year early, which means I’m already in college—my first year. My mother wanted me to pick something like politics, her big aspiration, but I went with Art History instead. It upset her at first, but in the end, she accepted it with a smile—I assume she thinks it’ll be a good major for me, once I settle down with a husband in a few years.

  I don’t bother talking or arguing with my mother these days. She’s got a mind of her own, especially when it comes to me. The minute I displeased her, she sent me packing. But the second I’m useful to her, she pulls me back. I’m used to the boomerang effect by now.

  As much as I try to distract myself from thinking about Max, I can’t manage to do it well. He’s an enigma, and for the second time that day, I wish I’d stayed in front of that restaurant and listened to what he had to say. Maybe he had a reason for doing what he did after all….

  The problem is, there’s no denying the way he still makes me feel. The mere thought of him makes me clench my pussy, press my legs together so no one would notice. I do it several times in the lecture hall, and by the end of my class, I’m blushing hard and desperate to feel him touch me again.

  It’s so wrong, and I know it. I shouldn’t be daydreaming about a man like him. I should be regretting last night and drowning my sorrows in a pint of Ben and Jerry’s, but it’s all I can do not to check my phone every few minutes for a message from him.

  Once I’m done with my class, I make an excuse to the group of people I usually hang out with and head for home. It’s only a short walk away from campus, but my shoulders are tense until I’m finally inside my apartment. My bag falls to the floor as I close the front door, and I lean against it, sliding down to the floor helplessly.

  I bury my face in my hands, trying to convinc
e myself none of this is real.

  I didn’t lose my virginity.

  I didn’t fuck my mother’s husband.

  I didn’t even meet him.

  I’m just a teenager, my biggest worry is turning my next assignment in on time.

  Of course, with every lie I tell myself, I only become more painfully aware of the truth, and the fact that I’m going to have to deal with it soon.

  My phone starts buzzing on the floor, and I make a crazy grab for it, seeing my mother’s name flash across the screen. With a sigh, I get up and take the call.

  “Hi, mom.”

  “Lola Grace.” Her voice is cold as always. I can’t believe she forgot my birthday. She didn’t even call, let alone give me a gift. I know I’m selfish for wanting something, but…. I just wish there was one day every year when I was actually special to her.

  But, of course, if there’s nothing in it for Annabel Hudson, my mom doesn’t notice or care about a thing.

  “Did you enjoy lunch?” she asks me.

  “Mom, I…” I gulp down the lump in my throat. “I didn’t know you were getting married again. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “You found out, didn’t you?” Her laughter is melodic. I wonder if Max is with her right now. I hate her for it, even the thought makes me want to smash something expensive.

  “Yes, but… I didn’t know you were dating anyone, let alone getting married,” I manage to get out. “When did this happen, Mom?”

  “We signed the papers this morning,” she tells me, and I notice how she’s talking about the whole thing as if it were a business transaction. I cannot deny the fact that my heart soars when I hear her being so impersonal about the whole thing.

  “Do you love him?” I ask in a small voice, but she merely sighs.

  “Lola Grace, honestly.”

  “You didn’t answer my question,” I point out.

  “Don’t be difficult,” she snaps at me, and I hear her manicured nails tapping the phone nervously. “I need to get going. Call me some other day.”

  “But you called me,” I protest, though it’s already too late. She’s disconnected the call.

  I am so damn tempted to just throw my phone across the room, but I manage to restrain myself. Instead, I place it on the counter in my small kitchen and get a yogurt out of the fridge. I sit on a bar stool and miserably dig in, not hungry but needing to distract myself.

  I slip back into remembering last night again, the way my nails dug into his skin, the way we made love…. No one is going to convince me that it meant nothing, because we both felt it. The fire burning inside us both, threatening to claim us… and I fear it might’ve done just that.

  My phone buzzes again, and I pull it towards me hopefully. It’s just a text from a guy at college. His name is Brett, and he’s been hitting on me pretty damn relentlessly these past few weeks. I can’t help but smile at his text.

  Legal yet? Happy belated birthday, LG! ;)

  I type back a reply, and we start talking via text. It doesn’t really mean much, but at least it’s something to keep me occupied. I see a few messages pop up from my friends last night as well, but I don’t respond to them yet. I’m still mad at Becky for standing me up like that…. Even though it ended with Max.

  Brett ends up inviting me out for dinner and I consider saying no, but then a look in my fridge reveals empty shelves, save for a piece of moldy cheese. I text him, telling him to come pick me up in an hour, and then I hide my phone in an empty cookie jar. I’m going to do my damn best to distract myself tonight and not think about Max… and least of all about the tingle between my legs every time he crosses my mind.

  “So how’s your mom doing?” Brett asks me, taking a bite of his hot dog.

  We’re walking down the street towards my apartment, each with a hot dog in our hands. I’m wearing one of my favorite summer dresses, paired with a thick cardigan and ankle boots to battle the cooler weather. Fall is here, and the breeze makes sure I’m aware of it.

  “All right,” I respond with a small smile. “She’s knee-deep in her campaign.”

  “I figured. Saw her in the paper this morning, so I had to ask.” He smiles at me. “So she’s running for mayor?”

  “Yeah, soon,” I nod. “It’s always been her dream.”

  We walk quietly for a few moments, and I wonder whether I was my mom’s dream. Did she ever dream of having a child? And if she did, did she ever think she’d push me away the way she did? Make me fend for myself in a big city like this one?

  I never knew my father, but I always had hopes that he would’ve been a good dad. He died before I was born, and my mom remarried when I was twelve. Despite that, I never really had a real family.

  Mom was always busy, and as for my stepfather… well, he was a story on his own. But that’s all over now. No need to dwell on the past.

  “That’s the spirit,” Brett grins at me, and I blush, realizing I said that last part out loud. I giggle nervously and eat the last part of my snack, wiping the mustard from the corner of my lips.

  Brett really is a nice guy. A few years older than me, sweet and kind. The kind of guy my mom would probably approve of, especially since he comes from a rich, influential family. I’m pretty sure his dad has something to do with running the metro.

  But I can’t bring myself to see Brett in that way. He’s been my friend for a few months, and he’s made it very clear he’d like to be something more. But I don’t want it. I’ve thought about it plenty of times, sure, but after being with Max….

  The mere thought of that man—my freaking stepfather—makes me want to touch myself. I shake my head to get the thought out, throwing my paper napkin in the trash and looking back at Brett.

  “Hey, you’ve never been to my place,” I tell him, and his grin grows wider. “Do you want to come over? There’s a wicked view from the roof.”

  “Really?” he asks incredulously. I guess this is kind of a shock—I’ve been pushing him away for so long, it must feel weird now that I’m inviting him over. “Yeah, I’d love to come over.”

  I smile at him, and once I get back to his side, his hand slowly takes mine.

  I hate the feeling of it. His palms are clammy, but I don’t pull away. I make myself hold his hand and even squeeze it gently in response. He smiles down at me, and I hate myself for being such a bitch. For leading him on, and making him think he can have me, when really, my heart only belongs to one man since last night….

  We arrive at my place shortly after, and I lead the way up to my floor. I show Brett the place, and as he looks around and tells me how lucky I am to be living by myself, I take another long, good look at him.

  He’s one of those All-American guys with handsome features, a perfect smile and perfect hair. He looks like he walked right out of an Abercrombie & Fitch commercial, and he looks like he knows it, too.

  “You really have a great place,” he tells me, going on about something or other while I eye my phone on the counter. I haven’t checked it since Brett picked me up, and I’m feeling desperate, wanting to have a peek at it to see if Max texted or called me.

  “You must be really hungry.” Brett laughs pleasantly, and only then do I realize he doesn’t know I stashed my phone in the cookie jar, and that’s why I’m staring at it so intently.

  I laugh nervously and am about to reply when the front door buzzes. Brett and I exchange glances, and he asks me if I’m expecting anyone. I shake my head and go towards the door. My heart starts pounding without a reason, and I convince myself it’s just a package, or the sweet old neighbor who locks himself out of his apartment sometimes.

  But I know deep down in my guts that’s not who’s at the door.

  I pull the front door open and come face to face with Max. He’s so much taller than me, towering over me and it makes me shiver. He’s no longer in the monkey suit he wore to work; instead he’s now wearing a pair of jeans and a soft-looking tee I want to touch very, very badly.

  “I�
�m coming in,” he tells me, and I step aside because otherwise he would’ve barged right past me anyway.

  “You can’t just come here anytime you want!” I hiss at him, but he disregards my comment completely and invades my personal space. As soon as he’s in the living room, his eyes zero in on Brett and he turns towards me, looking angry as hell.

  “Who in the ever-loving fuck is this?” he asks me, pointing towards my friend.

  “You’re interrupting,” I tell Max firmly.

  “You know this guy?” Brett asks incredulously, puffing his chest out like a goddamn baboon. Seriously, Max could take him down with one finger, and I’m not even playing favorites.

  “She does know me,” Max throws in. “Better than she knows you, jackass.”

  “Calm down,” I tell him firmly. “This is my… stepfather, Max. And my friend, Brett.”

  I stand in the middle of them awkwardly, wishing this was over already.

  “Why aren’t you answering your phone?” Max asks me, and I look towards the cookie jar again. I knew he’d text me, or maybe even call. It makes me feel all warm and tingly inside, knowing he did. Knowing he kept his promise.

  But that’s no excuse for the fact he somehow got my address and is now standing in front of me, guns blazing.

  “I think I’m gonna… yeah, I’m gonna leave,” Brett tells us awkwardly, but neither of us notice as he gathers his jacket and heads for the door. I give him a single look, not trying to stop him, and he practically runs out the door, shutting it behind him.

  And then it’s just the two of us, and the tension is almost too much to handle. Max is glaring at me, I’m staring back at him, and it’s getting really hot. I strip off my cardigan, and I feel his eyes burning into my skin as I expose inch after inch of my tanned complexion.

  “What’re you doing here?” I ask him softly.

  “Setting things straight,” he tells me.

  “What’s there to say?” I ask. “You’re married, Max. To my freaking mother, no less.”