by Leila James
Tainted Rose
Leila James
Tainted Rose © Copyright 2021 by Leila James
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the author is unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.
This novel is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Created with Vellum
For my mom,
my very favorite redhead.
Credits
Editing by Rebecca Kimmel:
www.thewritingrefinery.com
* * *
Proofreading by Krista Dapkey:
www.kdproofreading.com
* * *
Cover Design by Diana TC:
www.triumphbookcovers.com
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Also by Leila James
Dear Reader
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Chapter 1
Xander
The hurt flickering in Scarlett’s bright-blue eyes almost does me in, and the trembling of her body makes me want to take back every last brutal word I’d spewed at her. I want to get on my knees and beg for her forgiveness, tell her I fucked up, to forget everything I said and get back into bed with me so I can show her how I feel. Anything to wipe that look off of her face. It’s gutting me.
But I don’t say any of that. Because, dammit, I’m not doing this to her, I’m doing it for her. I need her to leave—to walk out of this room and out of my life. I need her to run far away from me and never look back. If she doesn’t believe everything I just spit at her, I’m in real trouble. We’re in real trouble.
Her face slowly crumples right before my eyes, her cheeks flaming the most brilliant red as the vicious words slam through my mind over and over. Look, you’re a great fuck, Red, but that’s all this was to me. Get the fuck out.
I rise from the bed, my muscular body towering over her, attempting to intimidate her. Pulling in some air, I let it expand my chest as I force a stare at her, feigning as much hatred as I can muster.
She clutches the clothing I’d thrown at her against her naked body, lips quivering as she continues to stare back at me in shock. “I don’t understand. What hap—”
“Get. The fuck. Out,” I snarl in a tone that should strike fear into her.
A mask slips down over my features, allowing me to continue what I need to do without cracking. My voice sounds like grit and gravel to my ears. “I got exactly what I wanted from you. This was all a fucking game for me to see if I could get you to hate me, then turn around and make you fall for me against your better judgment. Every kiss, every lick, every suck, every fuck was fake, Red. The two of us? We were never anything. But just in case you believed there was something between us—whatever you thought we had, it’s over. Take your needy, pathetic ass out of here.”
I’ve never felt like such a lowlife piece of shit as I do right this minute watching a rogue tear slip down her cheek. I want to tug her into my arms and tell her everything is going to be okay. But I can’t. If what I found means what I think it could, she needs to be far away from me and this house. She can’t know.
I never should have brought her here.
Never should have let her get this close.
Never should have fallen for her courage, strength, and beautiful heart.
Scarlett pulls her top over her head with unsteady hands and jams her arms into the sleeves. Her eyes dart around for a few seconds, looking for her panties no doubt, before she forgoes them and fitfully yanks her skinny jeans up her legs and fastens them.
When she looks up at me, her eyes blaze. “Xander, I will never, ever forgive you for this.”
With that, she snatches her phone out of my hands. For a few seconds we lock eyes, and I begin to reach for her, my resolve fading.
“Don’t you fucking touch me.”
She whirls around and stalks over to the couch where she’d left her shoes and bag on the floor. She gathers her things, flips me off over her shoulder, and storms out of my bedroom without so much as a backward glance.
My entire body sags once she’s gone. With my hands to my head, I pull on my hair in frustration. If only she knew ...
I hate myself. I hate that I did this to her, put that anguished look on her face, that distrust in her eyes. With a sick sigh of regret, I pick my joggers up off the floor—the same ones Scarlett had peeled from her body a few minutes ago—and pull them up my legs. Talk about fucking torture. But you deserve every ounce of punishment. And when she doles it out, like she probably will, you’ll take it. You deserve her hatred.
It won’t stop me from doing what I need to, though.
It can’t.
After a few attempts at the beginning of the school year at scaring Scarlett off, it’d quickly become obvious that my girl doesn’t frighten easily. I drop my head back and laugh maniacally all alone in my room. My girl. Except you fucked that all up, didn’t you? You pulled her close to mess with her, you fucking fell for her, and then you threw it all away. I shake my head. I can’t see any other way to do this—to keep them all safe.
Clawing guilt rips at my stomach. I’ve taken the one thing in my life that’s going right and thrown it all away.
She’s the reason why this year hasn’t been a boring repeat of every other year.
She’s why I get up in the morning.
She’s made me feel things I never have before.
But you know you can’t have her, you asshole. This was all supposed to be a way to eventually force her to leave, and now I’ve gone and blown it. Big-time. Because she might actually leave now—which was the goal—but she’ll be taking a huge-ass chunk of my dark heart with her.
I race out of my room and tear down the steps in search of alcohol. I’m not making it through tonight sober, that’s for fucking sure. There’s not enough booze in this house to make me forget what I’ve done, and that’s really saying something.
When
I enter the kitchen, I flick the lights on as I pass the switch. The reddish-brown of my stepdad’s hair glints in the light from the fixtures over the kitchen island. He swirls his whiskey around before taking a careful sip, holding it in his mouth before he swallows. He glances up from his drink and nods once in my direction. “Your girlfriend seems nice.” His words come out cool and collected. “Left awfully quickly, though.”
I ignore his comment about Scarlett. He never should have fucking met her. “What are you doing sitting down here in the dark?” I grunt, leaning back against the counter. My head has begun to pound.
“Just having a drink before turning in. Travel was a nightmare. I was trying to get home earlier today to surprise your mom, but it didn’t happen.” He juts his chin toward the bottle. “You look like you could use some.”
I work my jaw back and forth. “Yeah. Maybe.” I run my hand through my hair. “It’s been a long day.” I turn around and open a cabinet, grabbing a glass and sliding it across the island. Sebastian pours a finger of whiskey into it and pushes it back in my direction.
I lift the glass to my lips and take a sip, savoring the burn as it slides down my throat. It’s going to take a lot more than this for what I’ve got going on, but I keep my mouth shut. I’ll snag something out of the liquor cabinet after he goes to bed, just like I always do.
I know he’s aware I do it, too, because he’s the one who lets June know when he’s running low so she can order more. I’ve always considered myself lucky that he hasn’t said anything to me—or worse, to my mom—about it.
“How’d the game go?”
I suck my lips into my mouth for a second. “Good. We killed them.”
“Did you score?”
“Two touchdown receptions.”
He grunts. “Good. Keep that up and the college scouts will be out for a look.”
I have no idea if I even want to play college ball, but I nod, bobbing my head as if considering it. I guess it couldn’t hurt to have them look. I’m good, but I don’t know if I’m that good.
Pushing off the stool he’s been sitting on, Sebastian taps his hand on the island. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Do you have to travel again soon?”
With a nod, he murmurs, “Yeah, Monday.”
Sebastian’s position in his family’s business takes him out of the country more often than not. He lifts a hand, waving goodnight, and walks out of the kitchen in the direction of the staircase closest to their bedroom at the front of the house.
Eyeing the bottle of whiskey left behind, I pick it up, unscrew the cap, and tip it directly up to my lips. I drink a full quarter of the bottle before I stop. I’ve got to drown this gnawing pain in my chest. Anything to make me forget.
I trudge up the back stairs to my room, bottle in hand, the remaining alcohol swishing around as the effects of what I’ve already consumed begin to kick in. I take another long swallow before I sprawl across my massive bed and close my eyes.
Eventually, my limbs loosen and I drift in and out of sleep, the scent of Scarlett on my sheets and pillows. My chest aches with every inhale. Every so often, the sheer panic that I might hold the key that will rip her away from me forever wakes me in a cold sweat. That can’t come to light, though. I’d rather she think I’m an asshole and leave because of it than drag certain things out into the open.
Chapter 2
Scarlett
He said he’d always protect me.
In the dark, I hurry down the long driveway. My mind races as I come to a halt to pull on my athletic shoes. I don’t even have my socks. A stuttered breath rattles around inside my chest as I start walking in what I hope is the general direction of my aunt and uncle’s home. I don’t know where my undergarments or socks ended up, but he can fucking keep them. I hope he feels like shit whenever he looks at them. Asshole. He’d fucked me, all right. First literally and then figuratively.
I don’t understand any of this. I thought I meant something to him. I thought we were together—that he was just waiting for Aria to get over her shit. I’d hoped in the end there would be an us.
The pain of it burns through my chest, my heart clamping down hard. I rub my hand over it, a sob ripping from my throat. Oh my God, I’m that girl. The one who is too stupid and naive to know when a guy is playing her to get into her pants. Fuck. Why hadn’t I listened when Aria warned me?
The answer is simple: because you’d been blinded by everything you felt every minute you were near him. Everything from the way he looked at you like he was going to devour you to the way he tasted on your lips. You were a goner from the first time you saw him. He must have recognized it. You made it easy for him.
And the fucked-up thing is, there’s only one person I want right now. One person I need. And she’s gone.
Grief washes over me in a way it hasn’t in ages. I stop, drag myself over to the curb, and collapse to ride out the pain. My head hangs between my shoulders, and I cover my face with my hands, letting tears sneak their way out of my eyes. I’ve tried to stay strong, tried to get my life back on track. But now it feels like a disaster all over again. Another cry wrenches its way out from deep in my gut. Mom, I need you.
A while later, I collect myself enough to realize I can’t sit here on the side of the road all night. It’s late, and I’d told my aunt I was going to be staying with Daphne after the game. I swallow past the knot of tears at the back of my throat. Now what the fuck do I do? I don’t have an Uber account or money with me for a cab. I bite down on my lip, glance at my phone for a second, and decide against calling anyone. I throw my bag over one shoulder and across my body and begin the long run home, letting the wind on my face dry my tears.
Finally home, I’m completely worn out, worn down. I drag myself through the door and up the stairs as quietly as possible, hoping not to wake Aunt Liz and Uncle David. Heading straight for my bathroom, I carefully assess myself. I’m a hot mess—a layer of sweat coats my skin, my face is red and mottled, my eyes are puffy, my hair is wild. And my heart is completely broken.
“Scar? Is that you?” A voice drifts to me from the direction of my aunt and uncle’s bedroom down the hall as footsteps sound on the carpeting.
I cringe and swipe at my cheeks before quickly heading to my bedroom doorway. Maybe I can head her off. Poking my head out, my aunt stands right outside my door, a funny, questioning look on her face. “I thought you were staying at Daphne’s tonight.”
I swallow hard and hope she buys what I’m selling. I don’t want to have to go into detail about my heartbreak tonight. “I wasn’t feeling well, so I came home.” I hope she can’t see that I’m not sick. I’m destroyed.
Tainted.
She takes a step closer to me, and as she does, her eyes widen. “What happened?” More frantic now, “What the hell happened, Scarlett?” I guess I look worse than I thought. She closes the distance between us and pushes my door open so more light falls on my face. Crap. If she looks any closer at all, she’s going to know something’s wrong. We’ve always been like this, even though we hadn’t seen each other often before Mom died. She knows me. She takes my head between her palms and tilts my face up so she can stare right into my eyes. Nope. My eyes slam shut.
“Look at me, Scarlett,” she demands. “Did someone hurt you? Why are you all sweaty and out of breath?” She backs me up and makes me sit down on my bed, then squats down in front of me.
I shake my head and cover my trembling lips with my fingers. “I can’t—”
“Is everything okay?” Uncle David appears in the doorway, his deep, rumbling voice hitting me square in the chest. When he gets a good look at me, a crease works its way onto his forehead. “Whose punk ass do I need to kick?” he growls.
Now that I’ve had a chance to sit down and breathe, shudders work their way through my body. Aunt Liz gazes into my eyes, her concern rising. She’s gentle as she pushes my hair behind one of my ears, then repeats the process on the other side. Softly, she whis
pers, “Talk to us, honey.”
“Xan-Xander …” I relive every word he’d said to me. How am I supposed to talk about this when I feel so raw and broken? Finally, I get the courage to blurt out, “He broke up with me.”
Uncle David cocks his head to the side and points his finger at me. “You told us he was just a friend.”
My aunt eyes her husband with a duh face as if to say, You didn’t really believe that, did you?
I press my lips together. “We were just friends.” I frown, looking down at my hands. “And then it was more than that.”
“I’ll kill him. I knew he’d do something like this.”
I wince and shake my head. “Why would you think that?”
“Because boys like him don’t date girls like you.”
My aunt sucks in a breath. “David.”
He grits his teeth, seeing my distress. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
I swipe my fingers under my eyes again. My cheeks feel itchy from the tears that have already fallen and dried there. “Why wouldn’t he date me? Do you think the same thing he obviously does of me? Am I somehow less than? Not a Rose. Not good enough?”
David sits on the bed beside me. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said it like that.” He runs his hand along the stubble on his jaw. “It’s just that with what we assume your mother went through at that damn school, I— Well, it makes me sick to my stomach to think about Xander messing around with you. I should kill him. I still might.” Anger radiates off of his body, but he appears to have it under a firm leash when he puts an arm around me to give me a sideways hug. “I’m sorry.”
