Renegade Hearts
Nikki J Summers
Contents
Other books by Nikki J Summers
* Trigger warnings *
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
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Epilogue
Epilogue Part 2
Author Acknowledgements
Luca
This Cruel Love
Hurt to Love
Obsessively Yours
Copyrighted Material
RENEGADE HEARTS
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual events or persons living or dead is purely coincidental. Any trademarks, product names or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners and are used for reference only.
Copyright 2020 by Nikki J Summers
All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced, scanned or distribute in any printed or electronic form without the express, written consent of the author.
A CIP record of this book is available from the British Library.
Cover Design: Sarah Paige at Opium House Creatives Editing: Lindsey Powell & Book Nook Nuts Proofreading
Interior designed and formatted by: Irish Ink Publishing
Stand-Alone:
Grey Romance
Luca
This Cruel Love
Hurt to Love
Joe and Ella Series:
Contemporary Romance
Obsessively Yours
Forever Mine
All available on Amazon Kindle Unlimited.
Only suitable for 18+ due to adult content.
This story is for readers 18 years and upwards due to sexually explicit content. It also deals with issues that some may find difficult to read and may cause distress. There is also bad language throughout.
That being said, I hope you enjoy this enemies-to-lovers, New Adult Romance.
I don’t know why I expected anything would be different.
Why would my parents change the habit of a lifetime and put me first? I mean, it’s only my eighteenth birthday. No big deal, right? And yet, when they told me they wanted to throw me a party, that little girl I usually kept hidden from the world, the one who’d lived in the shadows for all these years, craving any scraps of attention they’d throw her way, she became excited that maybe they’d do something selfless.
But no.
Their idea of celebrating their only daughter coming of age turned out to be a pretentious, black-tie garden party, full of people of influence that they wanted to schmooze, but secretly despised behind closed doors. Men and women I’d never even met before, who didn’t have the first clue what this day meant to me. To them, it was a golden ticket to grace the social pages of some brainless magazine. A peak behind the curtain that was the picture perfect Winters’ family homestead.
To me, it was as fake as their pumped up lips and Botox frozen smiles.
Why did I expect anything to change?
I had to hand it to them, my parents had done a stellar job of making our garden look magical; otherworldly. A simulated smokescreen of perfection that’d make even David Blaine marvel. There were fairy lights in the trees, waiters and waitresses milling about with trays of champagne and canapes. Even the custom-made flower arrangements were a feat of artistic engineering, twisting around archways my mother had had specially constructed just for today.
If you didn’t know better, you’d think this was a wedding.
Who brought flower arrangements into a garden already full of flowers?
My mother, that’s who.
My father had done his part too, overseeing the set-up of an extravagant stage inside the stifling, expertly orchestrated marquee, but there was no D.J. set, no band playing. This stage was for him to address his devoted audience. To let them know what an upstanding father, husband, and pillar of the community their Member of Parliament was.
Our whole lives were a photo opportunity. A press call.
We were his ticket to winning the next election, and that was what came first and foremost, always.
I still hadn’t forgotten how he used my brother’s death to increase his popularity in the polls. I’m sure he didn’t mean to do it, not directly, anyway. But the grief I felt everyday seemed to have drifted over him pretty quickly. There was no room for emotion in politics… and families, apparently. My father had taken the stiff upper lip to a whole new level.
Standing at the doorway, leading out onto our terrace, I prayed I’d blend into the background, camouflaged from the heat of their stares and pseudo friendliness. It usually worked. I was a shadow in my world. A bystander to my own life. The after-thought of the day.
I smoothed my hands down the boring white shift dress my mother had insisted I wear. The heavy wool blend of the material clung to every curve, but not in a sexy, seductive way. No, I felt like I was being smothered by a snake, suffocating my body and bleeding me dry. Beads of sweat trickled down my back as I tried to look like I was comfortable and at ease with everything around me. I wasn’t. I’d rather have stayed in my room watching a Netflix box set, eating the Doritos I had stashed under my bed, hidden from my mother. God forbid I should ever eat such filth and gain a few extra pounds. I looked and felt like I was heading into an interview, not a party. The skirt of my restrictive dress reached safely below the knee and my dark brown curls were pinned up into a twist that mirrored my mother’s.
The perfect package for the tabloids.
Smoke and mirrors had nothing on my family. We were a goddamn fire of contradictions and falsities. My eighteenth birthday, and yet this was the last place I wanted to be.
“Emily, stop slouching. Remember your posture and smile, for Christ’s sake. A Winters is always on show. The last thing we need is a picture of you scowling splashed all over the internet. You know what vultures they are out there.”
My mother breezed past me and glided down the steps, leading to the garden. Her floral perfume swirled in the air around us, making my already heavy chest feel like it was drowning. I glared at the back of her head but stopped myself from rolling my eyes. Instead, I gave a sigh.
“Thanks for the party. It’s lovely to see so many of my friends here. Oh, wait. You didn’t invite any of them. Was this party meant for me at all?”
She stopped in her tracks and gracefully spun around to face me, painting on that well-rehearsed smile of hers.
“Your father went to a lot of trouble to organise this for you. There are some very influential people here today. You could show some gratitude, young lady.” Her face re
mained calm and serene, but her tone was as sharp as a knife. If we didn’t have guests, she’d be a completely different version of my mother. This was the 2.0 version. I think I preferred the other one. At least that one was real.
“Grateful? Why should I be grateful about spending my birthday with people I don’t know? I’m the only one here under thirty. This party is shit.”
“Watch your language, Emily.” She marched back up the steps and grabbed my arm, leading me down onto the lawn and towards the marquee, like a child.
“It is though. It’s a chance for you and Dad to put on another show. Fool the press into thinking we’re the poster family for modern Britain. Too bad we’re so fucked up behind closed doors, Mother.” I tried to free myself from her grasp, but she wasn’t having any of it.
“Enough with the language. Not everything is about you, Emily.”
And there it was in a nutshell. No, nothing ever was about me.
Was I a spoilt brat, seeking out her parents’ attention? Maybe. But then, I’d never had it. Not even as a young child. I was a loner in my own family. I preferred to think of myself as a closet rebel. Doing the right thing in public, but secretly I fantasised about doing something to break free from these stifling chains of duty. I hadn’t chosen this life. Why should I conform to the restraints put upon me because of it?
“You weren’t complaining this morning when you saw the Tiffany necklace, were you?” my mother spat out. “Now, you need to earn that gift by toeing the line. Don’t let your father down.”
She plastered on her award-winning smile, dazzling the men and making the women clench their jaws and hold their partners a little tighter. That was my mother. The quintessential English rose. A beauty who knew her worth and wasn’t afraid to flaunt it.
We made our way into the marquee, where my father was holding court with a group of men, smoking cigars and laughing. I played my role of the perfect daughter and followed my mother, then when Dad saw us, he stopped and introduced us to the group, putting an arm around each of us and smiling. He kissed Mum and then kissed me on the top of my head. I smiled up at him, because despite everything, I did love him. They had their faults, but I loved them both. They were my mum and dad, after all, but deep down, I wished they’d realise that I needed them too.
“I can’t believe our little Em is eighteen today,” Dad said with pride in his eyes.
“Alec, Anthea, you don’t look old enough to have a grown-up daughter,” one of the men replied, holding up his glass in a toast to my parents. Not me. Oh, no. A toast to them for having me and continuing to look so youthful.
Welcome to my perfect life.
“It’s wonderful what a good plastic surgeon can do these days, isn’t it?” another suit guffawed, but my mother didn’t join in. Her face froze. Humour wasn’t her strong point.
Me? I couldn’t help but stifle a laugh. I doubt he’d be invited to one of their parties again.
“She’s a natural beauty, my Anthea.” Dad beamed down at her and she smiled back. I just stood there feeling numb, like an accessory in their perfect world.
“Isn’t it time for your speech, Alec?” Mum nodded over to the stage and guided Dad and me away from the red-faced truth-teller. I think he was glad of the reprieve too.
We made our way onto the stage as the crowds began to gather and a gentle hush ascended over the marquee. My father stood centre-stage, with my mother to his right and me to the left.
“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you so much for coming here today to help us celebrate something so wonderful and so important to our little family.” He looked down at me and smiled. “Not only is my daughter turning eighteen, but today we made a landmark victory in our campaign. Our war on the drug culture that’s plagued our younger generation for far too long is finally reaping its rewards. The gang mentality that’s desperately trying to infiltrate its way into our little town is dying. That’s all thanks to the support you’ve given me during my current term in office. But we aren’t finished yet.”
I felt the lump in my throat harden and I dug my nails into my palms to stop myself from tearing up.
“As you all know, my son, Daniel, was tragically killed in a car accident this past December. We still have many unanswered questions about the events leading up to his death. What happened that night still remains a mystery to us. Don’t get me wrong, the police have gone above and beyond, but there are people out there; young men and women, who know more than they are letting on. So, to them I say this… We will get justice for Daniel. We will find out the truth. And when we do, know that we are coming after those with blood on their hands.
“Not a day goes by when he isn’t at the forefront of our minds. We wish that life could be different and we never want another family to go through what we have. That’s why my wife and I have campaigned tirelessly to bring the issues of drugs and alcohol in the youth of today to the forefront. There’s a virus in our society; an evil that needs to be cut out. The statistics on the flyers being handed out explain a little more about…”
I zoned out. I couldn’t hear this speech again. I knew the statistics off by heart. I knew the message he was sending through his work, because I’d lived and breathed it for months. I loved my brother with every inch of my soul, but I couldn’t stand here and listen to another minute of his death being picked apart. I applauded my father, but on my birthday, the last thing I wanted was to remember why my brother wasn’t here to celebrate it with me.
“You need to ditch this lame-ass excuse for a party,” he’d probably say if he was here. “Get out there and have some real fun, Ems.”
I smiled, imagining him throwing some rude gesture Dad’s way, like he always used to, and while I drowned my father out, I got lost in thoughts of the Danny I remembered. Cheeky, insolent as mum called him, and a lover of life.
“So today, I would invite you all to make a donation to our cause and join us in this crusade in any way you can. We’ve made great headway in tackling the drink and drug culture and stamping out the criminal element that plagues our streets. Let’s do the same on our roads too. Take back this town and use our power; grow with it. Make this a safer place for all our children. I’m sure I don’t need to remind you, with the up and coming election, we need all the support we can get. Remember… Winters for the win. Thank you.”
The marquee erupted into a sea of applause and my dad held our hands and lifted them up, like he was championing himself at some political rally. My mother gave him the look of adoration that would secure the front page of the papers for them tomorrow. And I focused on breathing; wishing I could sink into the floor to escape the pitiful looks the room was giving me.
I heard raised voices in the distance and glanced over the heads of the guests, noticing some kind of commotion going on at the doorway into the house. The security staff were talking into their earpieces and marching towards it. When I saw my two best friends emerge from the house, I knew why. They didn’t want any uninvited guests, and my friends weren’t welcome at my eighteenth birthday party. Go figure.
I marched across the perfectly manicured lawn, like a woman on a mission, and made it to the doorway just as one of the security guards was manhandling Liv, getting ready to throw her out. She was giving as good as she got though, telling him in no uncertain terms what an asshole he was.
I couldn’t believe they’d shown up here. Word must’ve got to them that I was stuck in the parental twilight zone of hell. I smiled at their ripped skinny jeans and tight tops. They mustn’t have got the memo about the shitty dress code for my little shindig either. Hell, they hadn’t got any memo. They weren’t invited. They were my personal superheroes swooping in to save the day.
“You couldn’t have come at a better time.” I sighed and then turned to glare at the security guy still holding Liv in a death-like grip.
“You can let her go now. She’s not a gate-crasher.”
Liv sniggered and Effy just looked mortified by it all.
&nbs
p; “Their names aren’t on our guest list, Ma’am.” The security guy made the effort to look contrite in the knowledge that he was speaking to the boss’s daughter. Not that that made any difference. He probably had more say over this event than I did.
“You’re looking at the wrong guest list. Try the one entitled non-arse-lickers.” I elbowed him out of the way as his nostrils flared at my insolence. I didn’t care. He was rude to my friends, so that gave me free rein.
“Please tell me you haven’t come to spend the rest of Friday evening here in this Stepford wives’ tribute? As much as I love you girls, I really need a get out of jail free card.” I led us through the lounge to the hallway and away from the pomp and ceremony. Another minute in the company of my parents’ fake friends and I’d have self-combusted.
“Do you really think we’d be here to sip mocktails and suck ass with those oldies?” Liv laughed, turning her nose up. “We came here to get you and take you to where the real party is happening tonight, and it’s about as far away from shitty drinks and ass kissing as it gets.”
That’s what I loved about Liv. She was a no-nonsense, straight-talking kind of girl. If there was ever a feisty female you’d want in your corner, it was her.
Renegade Hearts (Rebels of Sandland Book 1) Page 1
