Pretty Cruel Things: A High School Bully Romance (Edgewood Academy Book 2) Read online

  Copyright © 2019 by J.S. Madden

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  Chapter 1

  The ceiling was stained.

  Probably not the thing I should have been focused on when the delectable but entirely boring Skylar Quinn had her mouth wrapped around my cock. But while she had the face of a Greek goddess, and the body to match, she was as entertaining in bed as playing Scrabble.

  Scratch that.

  Playing Scrabble would have been more interesting than this.

  But, school for the year hadn’t officially started yet, so my options were limited. At least she was good when she was on her back and I was doing most of the work.

  “You like that, baby?” she moaned.

  Fuck no. “Mmm, yes. You’re fantastic.”

  I glanced down at her naked body and smiled to myself. She really was stunning. Long, blonde hair and legs that went on forever.

  After a while, I felt the familiar twitch and without warning, I let myself go right into her mouth. Another thing I enjoyed about Skylar Quinn?

  She never complained about it.

  She sat upright, wiping the back of her hand across her lips and grinned at me. Like a dog waiting for praise from its owner. Pathetic. I gave her a quick smile and slipped off the bed, grabbing my boxers and jeans.

  “You leaving already?” She pouted, flipping her hair over her shoulder to give me a good view of those glorious tits.

  “Sorry.” I shrugged. “Sophie needs me.”

  My phone had been blaring from inside my jean pocket, playing my twin sister’s designated ring tone, for the past twenty minutes.

  “Why don’t you come back after?” Skylar suggested, pulling her bed sheets up to cover her lush body.

  I slung my shirt on, a little irritated at the wrinkles it now had, and did a quick sweep of the room for anything I might have forgotten.

  “Maybe,” I finally answered.

  Satisfied that I had everything I came in with, I gave Skylar a quick wink and glided out of her dorm room. Once the door shut behind me, I let out a deep breath and rubbed a hand over my face. Sometimes, the hassle of these girls didn’t quite feel worth it.

  Sophie’s dorm was two flights of stairs up from Skylar’s. I took the steps three at a time and when I reached Sophie’s door, I knocked in the same sequence we’d created back when we were six years old.

  The door swung open almost immediately.

  “Luc! Where have you been?” she huffed, grabbing my arm and yanking me into her room.

  Like me, Sophie had her own room. It was the size of a normal dorm, but with one large double bed in the centre. The perks of being the principal’s child. Except, our dad was no longer the principal of our ridiculously over-priced and over-rated boarding school. Not that Sophie or I knew why.

  “Sorry, I was busy.”

  She scrunched her nose in disgust. “You smell like sweaty vagina, Luc. God, can you ever keep it in your trousers for more than a day?”

  I shrugged and flopped down onto her bed. “Can you ever be yourself for more than a day?” I countered.

  Her eyes narrowed. “Touché.”

  “What’s up, anyway?”

  She let out a long breath and then stalked over to her desk. “Dad.”

  A volatile rush of anger blasted through my veins, as it always did when our cunt of a father was mentioned. The man was a bully, a paedophile and a prick. The rest of the world, however, thought he was magnificent.

  “Did he hurt you?” I demanded, but Sophie shook her head.

  “Not since we came back to school. He has a task for me, though.”

  “He’s always got tasks for you, Soph. Why do you fear him so much? If we stand up to him…”

  “There is no standing up to him, Luc. If I tell, worse will happen to me. So just…stop, okay? Stop trying to get me to go to the police and help me.”

  I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to control the rage threatening to spill out. I wanted to hurt someone. Destroy something. Finally, the anger started to ebb away and I opened my eyes.

  “Better?” she asked softly.

  “Not the word I’d use,” I muttered, hating our father more than ever. “What do you need me to do?”

  My sister perched on the edge of her desk. She was dressed in ridiculously tight skinny jeans and a white blouse. Her clothes were always masterfully picked for the day depending on what activities were planned and who she was seeing. Sometimes, I envied Sophie. She had created an alter ego, perfect in every way, in order to deal with the complete and disgusting imperfection that was our family.

  She was who everyone needed her to be. The ideal.

  “Principal Brighton.” Sophie hissed his name like it physically pained her to do so.

  “Nice enough guy,” I said, lounging back on her bed.

  “Dad fucking hates him.”

  “Not surprised. Dude took his job. Maybe someone finally reported the asshole for molesting some poor student.”

  Sophie flinched. “Don’t say that, Luc. He’s…he doesn’t do it to anyone else.”

  “And that makes it okay, does it? That he can get away with doing it to his only daughter as long as he doesn’t rape some other poor girl?”

  Ignoring me, she turned and grabbed the recent Edgewood magazine from her desk. She hurled it at me, but I caught it before it whacked me in the head.

  A girl’s face peered up at me from the cover. An innocent, reluctant gaze and a pretty mouth. She had greenish eyes and dark hair. Pretty. Beautiful, even. But it was the kind of understated beauty that would probably blend in with a crowd unless you really looked.

  I was definitely looking.

  “Who’s this?”

  “That’s Isla Brighton,” Sophie announced. “The new principal’s daughter. Dad wants me to sabotage Principal Brighton. Do whatever I can to find information that can potentially destroy him or ruin his reputation. Apparently, you’re only successful in your role as principal here if you can get the investors on your side.”

  I glanced back at the magazine. “And this girl fits in how?”

  “She is what the new principal is selling to the investors.” She motions down to the magazine I’m holding. “Read what the nasty little cunt said in the article. You’ll understand once you do.”

  “‘Why I plan to be married before I lose my virginity’,” I read the headline aloud. I snorted. “Tell me this girl isn’t for real.”

  “It gets worse. Open it up, Luc. Read everything.”

  I flicked through the magazine until I reached her article. She had a double page spread. A picture of her again in the top right corner, and another of she and her dad in the bottom left. It was so fantastically staged, but also a little real. For a strange moment, I hated her.

  I hated her for having a father who gave a damn.

  I hated her for having morals.

  I hated her for being the kind of child a parent was proud of.

  Shaking away the random negativity, I began to read. With each and every passing word, my level of disbelief shot up. Ther
e was no way people like this girl still existed. She didn’t think teenagers were capable of dealing with the strong emotions that came with sex and thought people should be in love before they got intimate.

  What a bunch of horse shit.

  “I feel mentally violated,” I groaned, tossing the magazine back at Sophie in disgust.

  She let it fall by her feet and nodded sympathetically. “I know. Listen, this article has received some serious interest. Parents all want their kids to be like this stupid bitch. Don’t ask me why. It’s the most unbelievable bunch of shit I’ve ever read. Virginity! Who the hell is a virgin after the age of sixteen anymore?”

  Certainly not Sophie. After our mum died, our revolting excuse for a father – who hadn’t been so bad back when we were young – lost it and decided to take his grief out on Sophie and me. I got the physical abuse, and Sophie…

  We were ten when it started.

  “And where do I come in?” I demanded, though I knew what Sophie would answer.

  She gave me a wry smile. “Do what you do best, Luc. Give her your charm and take her to bed.”

  “How will that ruin her father?”

  “You just do your part. The Voice will take care of the rest.”

  The Voice. Edgewood’s anonymous version of a sleezy tabloid.

  “And what will you do? You seem to have gotten the light end of this scheme.”

  “Light end?” She snorts. “Ha! I have to pretend to like the freak. Try to get her to change her stupid, immature little attitude so that it makes your job easier. I have the hardest job of all. I have to completely ruin her by manipulating her every thought and action. All you’re doing is what you do to every other female in this stupid school.”

  I pretended to be offended. “You’re implying I’m some kind of sex fiend.”

  “Funny, Luc. Funny.”

  I rose from the bed and let out a long stretch. “Okay, fine. I’m only doing this for you, Sophie. And because she’s fucking gorgeous. I probably would have tried to fuck her anyway.”

  “Think of it as a game.”

  “I do like games,” I said.

  “I know.” She crossed the room, stood on her toes, and kissed my cheek. “You’re the best.”

  I looked down at my twin sister and smiled sadly. If I was the best brother, I wouldn’t be afraid to go to the police. I’d be able to put an end to her suffering. I’d kill the bastard who claimed to be our father and abused his own daughter.

  But I couldn’t do those things for Sophie and so I’d do everything and anything else.

  Chapter 2

  The train station in the next town from Edgewood was a shithole.

  To be fair, most train stations around this part of the country were shitholes and this happened to be one of the better ones. Marginally.

  Ever since enlisting me on her mission yesterday, Sophie had been on overdrive planning every last part of Isla’s downfall, including my first meeting with her. I’d drawn the line when Sophie had wanted to judge what I was wearing.

  “She’s towards the end of the train. Second carriage from the back,” Sophie said, applying gloss to her already shiny lips using the rear-view mirror.

  I groaned. “Really? The back of the train?” I swore and shook my head. The station opened at the top of the platform which meant I’d have to walk all the way down to the other end.

  “She’s an idiot. I hate her already.”

  “You’d hate her regardless of where she sat,” I snapped. “How do you know where she is, anyway?”

  “Principal Brighton was so fucking excited about his precious daughter arriving, he couldn’t stop talking about it all morning. He told me what train she was getting while I was doing some filing for him. I got Emma to come down on that train, too, just to keep an eye out for the freak.”

  “Clever.”

  She shrugged. “Anyway, the train should be pulling in soon.” She ruffled my hair, and I slapped her hand away.

  “You better be waiting for me at the other end, Soph.”

  “You know I will.” She grinned widely at me. “Good luck! And remember to intrigue her, but don’t come on too strong.”

  “Telling me how to do my job, are we?”

  She cringed, then bit her lip. “I’m being annoying, aren’t I?”

  “Yes.”

  “Sorry. I just…this needs to go perfectly. It has to.”

  I pushed open the passenger door to the ridiculously ostentatious Range Rover our father had bought us last month. More hush money. I hated the fucking thing.

  “Ye of little faith,” I muttered. “See you on the other side.”

  She saluted me. “Go charm the pants off her. Literally.”

  I grinned and stalked into the train station. It was pretty empty, so it didn’t take me long to buy a one way ticket to the next stop. As far as plans went, this was stupidly overboard. I’d told Sophie so, too, but she got that hurt look in her eye that I hate seeing and I’d caved like I always do.

  The weather was still warm at least. I strolled down the platform, birds chirping in the trees surrounding the station, until I reached the end. A few minutes later, the train pulled in. It was an old train. The kind where you had private carriages. I climbed onboard and tried to pretend I wasn’t looking for anyone in particular.

  It wasn’t long until I walked past her carriage.

  Surprisingly, she was prettier in person. She was hunched over a – no, it couldn’t be – crossword puzzle? Her eyes were screwed tightly in concentration, a pen tapping the side of her face. I sucked in a deep breath and pulled open the carriage door, sauntering inside. I was thankful for the dark sunglasses because I couldn’t keep my eyes off of her, and that was so far from the plan.

  I chose the seat opposite hers, and as I sat, the rolled up copy of the school magazine hit my thigh. Her eyes darted to it and her face paled. Bingo. I wanted her to know that I had the magazine. I wanted her to wonder if I’d read it. I wanted to test how she really felt about the interview. Was she proud of it? A little embarrassed?

  By the expression on her face, I knew she was as mortified as she damn well should be for those disgustingly naïve words.

  Time for action.

  “Hey,” I said.

  She sprang upright, moving away from the crossword. “Umm, hi.”

  This was the girl Sophie was so focused on? So threatened by? I could have laughed. This girl was about as strong as an overcooked cooked string of spaghetti.

  “You got a lighter?” I slipped off my sunglasses and fixed my gaze on her green eyes.

  She blushed and a dreamy expression settled onto her face. And just like that, I knew I had her. I was plenty aware of what my bright, blue eyes did to girls – and some guys, but that wasn’t intentional. It seemed my eyes hadn’t failed me today.

  She stuttered that she didn’t smoke.

  Neither did I, but I liked to have one every now and again to piss people off. I mock frowned and began patting the pockets of my jacket, knowing I had a lighter all along.

  “No worries,” I said, and pulled the hidden lighter out of my back pocket. I only had one cigarette on me, purely for this purpose, and I grabbed it from behind my ear and lit it. All the while keeping a close watch on her face.

  “You know you can’t smoke on here, right?”

  I loved how indignant she sounded. What a fucking prude.

  I inhaled a large drag and blew it out right into her face. I’d heard of smokers doing something called a blowback. Inhaling smoke right out of someone’s mouth rather than the cigarette. And for some reason, I wanted nothing more than to do that with her.

  But she coughed and swiped at the smoke angrily, her eyes narrowing.

  I forced a laugh and knowing she would say no, offered her a pull of the cigarette.

  “Pass, thanks,” she snapped.

  I liked this girl already.

  I rolled my eyes and shrugged. “Your loss.”

  She went back t
o her puzzle, but I could tell she wasn’t focused on it. As expected and desired, her attention was all on me. Oh, this was too easy.

  “What you got there?” I asked, gesturing to the puzzle.

  “A crossword,” she answered simply.

  I fought the urge to mock her but instead relaxed my expression. “You like them?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Can I see it?”

  She slowly turned the book on the carriage table and then shoved it at me. I glanced down and one jumped out at me instantly. “Twelve down. It’s oxymoron. Try it. It fits.”

  Her disbelief when she realised I was right was a little insulting.

  “Wow, thanks.”

  “Smarter than I look.”

  I finished the cigarette and slipped the butt out the train carriage window. When I glanced back at her, she was engrossed in the crossword, my help seemingly spurring her to complete the puzzle. But that was boring. I wasn’t going to win any conquests if I’d been forgotten.

  “You have beautiful eyes,” I said, dipping my head so that when she looked up, we were inches apart.

  She startled. “Thanks. I think.”

  “No, they are. And you have a really unusual complexion. Where’re you from?”

  “My dad’s English, but my mother’s from Brazil. She’s gone back there actually to…” She trailed off. “No offence, but why are you so interested?”

  I shrugged. “I can’t be interested in a beautiful girl?”

  “Are you coming onto me?”

  I laughed and it was an actual genuine laugh. This girl kept on surprising me.

  “Yes.”

  Her cheeks flared a delectable shade of pink. “Oh.”

  “In fact,” I said, leaning my arms across the table and over her puzzle book, “you know what I think’s a mighty shame?”

  “What?”

  “Society.”

  She gave me a blank look, which was my intended response. “You’re going to have to elaborate.”

  “Society makes women feel like shit about themselves for wanting to give in to natural desires. You think cavemen were mutually exclusive? You think women walked around and fretted about what their fellow peers would think if they went out and just got dirty with the first rugged guy they saw?” I shook my head and sat back. “No.”