Fallen Heirs : A Dark High School Bully Romance (Windsor Academy Book 3)

by Laura Lee

  I smirk as I imagine clocking this guy in the jaw. “Right.”

  “What about the blonde with the big tits? The Devereaux heiress? Weren’t you two discussing marriage? You still keeping her on the line for some variety?” He holds his hands out in front of his chest like he’s grabbing a pair of breasts and wags his eyebrows.

  Douchebag.

  Neither he nor my dad sees how wrong their misogyny is, nor do they understand why objectifying someone who’s barely eighteen is not okay. Ivanov is in his early forties, so the age gap isn’t nearly as significant as it is with my father, but still. There’s something fucking wrong when a middle-aged man is lusting after a teenager.

  “Nope. Peyton has a problem sticking too many dicks in her mouth. And other places, I’m sure.” I briefly glance at my father. “She’s rather indiscriminate in that regard. You never know who she’s going to give it up to next.”

  My father’s eyes narrow, but I’m not sure if it’s because I’m putting Peyton’s inheritance at risk or because he suspects I know he’s fucking her. Probably both. Oh, the tangled webs we weave when we conspire to deceive.

  Alexander blinks a few times before he figures out how to respond to that. “Well, if you ask me, you traded up.”

  Look at that: a kernel of truth amongst all the bullshit.

  “I’m not going to argue with you on that.”

  I scan the room, relaxing marginally when I find Jazz. As our eyes meet, a genuine smile stretches across her face that I can’t help but return. Charles pulls her into his side, introducing her to yet another rich prick, causing her to frown. My brows draw together as I mimic the gesture. I hate how uncomfortable she is, being so close to Charles, acting like the perfect daughter he’d like her to be.

  I turn back around and find both my dad and Alexander staring at me. Ivanov is giving me a good for you, son wink, but my father’s gaze is suspicious with a healthy dose of jealousy. It’s odd seeing this man be anything but cold and robotic. He’s been so closed off my entire life, yet lately, he’s practically hemorrhaging emotion. It’s fascinating how Jazz’s arrival has lifted the veil we all worked hard to maintain over the years. Charles, Madeline, Peyton, my dad, Bentley, me—no one’s immune. Jazz just has that effect on you. Fighting it is futile.

  “If you’ll excuse me, I’d like to speak with a few more people before I need to leave.” My eyes flick to Alexander. “I’ll get back to you about the party as soon as possible.”

  He nods. “Please do. If it helps convince your lady friend, your sister will be there.”

  That gives me pause. “Why’s that?”

  The question was directed at Ivanov, but my dad answers instead. “Alexander’s good friend is the dean of the Los Angeles School of Performing Arts. Alex was kind enough to arrange an introduction. I know your sister has her heart set on Juilliard, but it doesn’t hurt to have other options, especially one so close to home.”

  Fuck. Now I have to go, regardless. There’s no way in hell I’m leaving Ainsley exposed like that. Who the hell knows what the guest list will look like?

  I take a deep breath, reminding myself to stay calm. “We’ll talk soon. It was nice seeing you.”

  On a mission to get to Jazz, I cross the room, but I’m stopped about halfway there when a thirty-something dark-haired man steps in my path.

  “Mr. Davenport.”

  I try to place this guy, but I’m coming up empty. “Do I know you?”

  He shakes his head. “No, but we have a friend in common.” The man reaches into the breast pocket of his tuxedo jacket and produces a business card.

  Rafe Garcia, Financial Analyst

  “Oh, yeah? And who’s that?”

  “John Peterson.”

  My eyes instinctively scan the room, looking for anyone who might be listening to this conversation. What is this guy playing at? Did my dad somehow find out about John? Did he hire this guy to get information out of me?

  “I’m sorry, but I don’t think I know anyone named John Peterson.”

  Rafe smiles softly. “I understand your hesitancy. I wanted to introduce myself so you could put a face to a name. The number on that card leads to an untraceable cell. Talk to John; he’ll vouch for me. Afterward, give me a call, and we’ll arrange a time to meet.”

  I don’t like being caught off guard like this one bit. Tucking the card into my jacket pocket, I say, “Like I said, Mr. Garcia, I don’t know anyone named John Peterson. If you’ll excuse me, I was on my way to speak with someone. Enjoy your evening.”

  He nods. “You as well.”

  I reach Jazz and Charles right as a senator and his wife are walking away. “Charles, do you mind if I steal my girlfriend away?”

  He looks irritated, but he’s not going to make a scene. “Of course not. You kids have fun.”

  I wait until we’re out of earshot before speaking. “You ready to get out of here?”

  “So ready.”

  Neither one of us says a word until we’re inside my car, away from any prying ears. I didn’t get to speak with nearly enough people tonight, but my instincts were screaming at me to get Jazz away from my dad. He’s in a mood, and my gut has never led me astray before, so I wasn’t about to ignore it now. Besides, since attending Ivanov’s party is no longer optional, I’m confident I’ll have another chance. He and my father have multiple friends or business associates in common.

  Jazz sighs as she buckles her seat belt. “I swear, if I had to meet one more congressman, or judge, or whatever, I was going to scream. You should’ve heard some of the sickeningly sweet things my sperm donor said about me. He had them all eating out of his hand.”

  “I’m sure. To Charles, it’s all about the show and how many people he can stuff in his pocket.”

  “Ugh. I don’t know how someone lives their life being so fake. They all had the same shiny veneer.”

  I shrug. “When you grow up in a world where material possessions or power determine your worth, you get used to performing. It’s all most of us have ever known.”

  “Well, if you ask me, that’s a shitty way to live. I don’t know how anyone could do that long term. I could barely handle it for what? Half an hour, maybe? I had to physically bite my tongue as Charles paraded me around like a goddamn trophy. Every time he touched me for whatever reason, even though it was only my shoulder or arm, I was fighting the urge to recoil or cuss him out. I couldn’t stop wondering about my mom. If she ever had to work a crowd like that and how she handled it. Or if she ever looked at me growing up and was reminded of him somehow.”

  “I highly doubt anything about you reminded your mom of him.”

  “Yeah, but you don’t know that for sure,” Jazz challenges. “He’s half the reason I exist, and considering what you suspect about how I came into this world, how could she never look at me and be reminded of that time in her life?”

  She has a point, but I’m not about to let her think she shares any traits with that man. I’ve known Charles Callahan my entire life, and he and Jazz couldn’t be more opposite.

  “Well, I made it out of there without throwing any punches, so I think we should consider the evening a win. I’ve no doubt my dad would’ve somehow used a distraction like that to his advantage, which was the main thing holding me back.”

  “The fact that I didn’t throw any punches in Peyton’s direction after all the snide comments she made makes this evening a win.”

  I laugh. “But it would’ve been fun seeing the look on Peyton’s face if you did.”

  Jazz’s full lips curve. “Yes. Yes, it would have.” After a moment of silence, her smile morphs into a frown. “There is an end in sight, isn’t there? We won’t always be chasing monsters, right?”

  I grab her hand over the console and press my lips to her knuckles. “Not if I have anything to say about it.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  JAZZ

  “What about this one?” Ainsley holds a red lacy bra in front of her. “It’s hot, ri
ght?”

  “It is,” I agree, thumbing the price tag. “But are you really going to spend four hundred dollars on a bra?”

  She holds the lace to her chest, looking at herself in the gilded mirror. “Why wouldn’t I?”

  I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Because you could probably get almost the exact same thing at Victoria’s Secret for ten percent of that?”

  Or Walmart for about three percent of the cost, but I leave that thought to myself.

  Her delicate chestnut brows furrow. “But... this is La Perla. Handcrafted Italian lingerie. And it’s a Black Friday deal, so it’s really only like three-hundred and twenty.”

  I love Ainsley to death, but she really has lived a sheltered life when it comes to things like money. I legit almost turned around and walked out the door as soon as I saw the first price tag in this store. I mean, we’re in Beverly Hills—on Rodeo, no less—so I knew stuff would be well out of my pay grade, but I had no idea the designer markup was this ridiculous. It makes me a little sick knowing my own dresser is filled with equally expensive lingerie, no doubt, thanks to Madeline. That scrap of lace in Ainsley’s hands could be almost a month’s worth of groceries for some families.

  “Never mind.” I shake my head. “It’s pretty. You should get it.”

  “I don’t want pretty. I’m looking more for I-want-to-rip-that-off-with-my-teeth sexy. This is part of Reed’s Christmas present, after all.”

  “That it is.” I wag my eyebrows. “Grab some matching panties with cutouts in the back, and you’re golden.”

  “Jazz!”

  My lips kick up in the corner. “What? You’re the one who decided to give the gift of anal for Christmas.”

  My voice was quiet enough that no one else could’ve possibly heard us, but Ainsley’s cheeks turn crimson anyway. God, she makes it so easy to give her a hard time about Reed’s inner freak.

  “That reminds me... I need to buy some things online when I get home.”

  “Like what? Lube?”

  A snooty blonde picks that moment to walk by and scoffs in disgust, making me laugh.

  Ainsley covers her face with her hands. “Oh, my God.”

  “C’mon, Ains. You know I’m just giving you shit.” I pull her hands away. “See what I did there?”

  She shakes her head with a smirk. “You’re ridiculous.”

  “Maybe.” I shrug. “But you love me anyway.”

  “I do, Jazz. I really, really do.”

  “Likewise, babe.” I give her a soft smile. “Hey, what do you know about this party next weekend?”

  When Kingston told me about this holiday party, my first instinct was, hell no, but when he mentioned Ainsley would be there, I had to consider it.

  She picks up a yellow balconette bra and holds the satin garment out before deciding against it. “Not much. Just that some guy my dad works with on occasion is throwing it. But apparently, he’s connected to some other guy at the Los Angeles School of Performing Arts. There might even be a few instructors in attendance. I thought it would be good to make that connection, and my dad agrees, which is why he invited me to come along.”

  “So, you’re going to the party with your dad?”

  “No. Reed’s coming with me, but my dad will be there.”

  “I thought you were dead-set on Juilliard?”

  “I was.” Ainsley grabs a few pairs of panties. I have to remind myself not to mentally add up how much money she’s spending.

  “But?”

  “But... I don’t know if I want to move across the country anymore.”

  “Because of Reed?” I guess.

  She sighs. “I don’t want to be the girl that skips out on her top choice for a boy, but it’s not just Reed that I’d miss. It’s my brother, Bent, you. You all plan on staying in Southern Cali, and I don’t want to be that far away from you. I know we could visit, but it’s not the same. Besides, it’s not like the LASPA is a crap school. They have one of the highest post-graduation placement rates in the country. They’re constantly funneling graduates into the Los Angeles Ballet.”

  “Why are you at Windsor anyway?” I quirk my head to the side, surprised I haven’t thought of this before. “You’ve known you wanted to dance professionally since you were little. It’s not like there aren’t several performing arts high schools in the area.”

  “I actually got into one of the best, but my dad guilted me into attending his alma mater. ‘Davenports graduate from Windsor, and you are a Davenport, Ainsley.’” Her voice drops a few octaves on the last sentence. “That’s why I take so many classes. They even offered me a teaching job after winter break, which would look great on paper, so I think I’m gonna do it. I don’t think many people realize how many hours dancers need to practice each week to go pro.”

  “So, you can’t hone your skills during the day—even though that was an option—and you have to maintain a full academic course load? Then, not only keep up with homework but attend dance classes for hours after school, leaving very little time to just be a normal teenager.” I shake my head. “What a selfish ass.”

  “I’m used to it.” She shrugs. “He’s been that way for as long as I can remember. That’s why I’m always trying to do stuff on the weekends. I want to have a normal teenage experience, like boyfriends, and parties, and hanging out with my friends. As much as possible anyway.”

  “You really think you’ll stay in LA?”

  “I guess it depends on where I’m accepted.”

  “Well, I’m not going to complain if you do because I can’t leave Belle.” I point a stern finger at her. “But only if you stay for the right reasons, not for a boy.”

  Ainsley smiles. “Reed actually offered to go wherever I go. He’s been applying to schools in New York just in case.”

  I raise my brows. “Things between you two are that serious already, huh? Damn, when you commit, you commit.”

  She chuckles. “A, Reed and I have known each other almost our entire lives. This thing between us has been brewing for years. And B, you’re one to talk, lady. You do realize I see the way you and my brother look at each other, right? How different he is since you’ve been around? I was really worried about Kingston for a while, but you make him happy, Jazz. I think it’s the first time I’ve seen him genuinely happy in over ten years.”

  Since before their mom died.

  I can’t imagine how awful it must’ve been for Kingston and Ainsley growing up with their cold-hearted, absentee father after losing their mom. I may not have had much during my childhood, but I was loved. Belle and I never wanted for affection, even with as often as our mom worked. We knew she did that because she was trying to make a better life for us.

  And when the three of us were together? My mom would always ensure it was pure quality time. Whatever we chose to do—whether it was playing games, going to the beach, or having movie nights—all three of us were involved and actively engaged. I’d give anything for another chance to snuggle with her and Belle while we watched Disney movies.

  Will I ever stop missing her so much?

  My phone buzzes in my pocket, making me jump. I smile when I pull it out and see a text notification from Kingston.

  Kingston: Are you two done yet??? How long does it take to buy shit?

  Me: Impatient much?

  Kingston: When I’m waiting to see you? Always.

  “See!” Ainsley points at me. “That look on your face. A minute ago, you looked sad, but now you’re practically glowing.”

  I roll my eyes. “I am not.”

  “Sure, Jazz. Whatever you say.”

  I give her the finger before typing a reply to her twin.

  Me: We’re at La Perla, but I think this is our last stop.

  Kingston: Tell me more... Better yet, send me a pic from the fitting room. *prayer hand emoji *prayer hand emoji

  I chuckle, still getting used to the fact that this broody boy likes to use emojis. I would’ve pegged him as more of an only-type-in-complete-sen
tences-using-proper-grammar-all-serious-all-the-time kind of texter.

  Me: Sorry, but I’m not the one doing the shopping. Your sister is picking out skimpy lingerie to wear for Reed right before they get it on. Or maybe WHEN they’re getting it on.

  I can just imagine the horrified look on his face right now. As dirty as Kingston can be, he wants no part of sex talk when his sister is involved.

  Kingston: You are the *devil emoji

  “What’s so funny?” Ainsley asks as she sees my amused expression.

  I hand her my phone so she can scroll through my convo with Kingston.

  “Oh, man, you’re so awesome. I bet he’s literally gagging right now.”

  “Probably.” My thumbs fly over the screen as I type my reply.

  Me: I’ll make it up to you with a *kiss emoji *tongue emoji *eggplant emoji *OK hand emoji

  Kingston: You’re forgiven. And I’ll GLADLY return the favor *tongue emoji *peach emoji

  I snort-laugh as I shove the phone back in my pocket.

  “Now what?”

  My lips twitch. “You don’t want to know.”

  Ainsley has the same no-go zone rule when it comes to talking about her sibling’s sex life.

  “Ugh.” Ainsley’s face is scrunched like she’s sucking on a yellow Sour Patch Kid. “New subject. Have you decided what you’re doing for your sister’s birthday?”

  Belle is turning eight soon. This will be her first birthday without our mom, so I want to make sure it’s extra special.

  “Kingston said he’s working on something, but he won’t give me details until he gets confirmation because he doesn’t want to get my hopes up.”

  “What kind of confirmation?”

  I shrug. “Dunno. I told him I wanted to be involved in the planning because she’s my responsibility, but he said it’s a surprise for me, too. He promised I would be happy with the outcome if he could make it work. He’s never failed to deliver a good time when he makes Sunday plans, so I’m sucking it up. Making the day great for Belle is what’s most important.”