Wicked Royals (Elites of Macedon High 1)

“Did you hear about what happened to that little girl Tabitha? Her father traded her in like she was nothing.”

I freeze while recalling the day at the abandoned boathouse. Of course she heard about that. Every mob family has security accompanying their precious cargo. Nothing gets past them. And that realization just makes the lump in my throat widen.

“I’m making sure you have a proper place. There’s a goddamn difference, Alexandra, and I wish you gave me the fucking credit I deserve.”

I sneer as I retort, “I wish you would treat me like a person.”

“You don’t get to be treated like a person when you’ve been taking advantage of this family. Your father is dead. You’re next in line to receive his inheritance, but you have to marry someone. You’re taking too long, so I sped things up.”

“I don’t want to marry him.”

She laughs, her eyes closing to slits while her free hand rests on her waist. “Who said that mattered at all? Do you think that’s how these marriages work?”

No, I’m well aware of how these marriages work. Looking up at my mother now and seeing the way her eyes gleam with the prospect of riches makes me realize precisely the person she is—and how she’ll always be. Her allegiance is to whoever is the highest bidder, not to who might treat me with respect.

It’s then the weight of this world crashes on my shoulders. The criminal undertaking of my father’s business glares at me like a ravenous monster lurking in the darkness just beyond the window. It’s a massive beast, the kind of creature that will swallow me whole if I don’t learn how to tame it.

But how can I play this game when I’ve already lost? Everywhere I turn, there’s a new boss for me to fight like some never-ending fantasy RPG game that gets harder the more I lose. I’m battered from battle, exhausted, and unable to keep going at my current pace. I have to change tactics. I have to figure out how to get out of this—alive.

Tommy and Coach Neill are right, I think as I stand up slowly and face my mother. Staying sober is the only way I’m going to make it through this nightmare.

“You know,” I say in a low voice. “I really thought you were going to help me, but I was wrong.”

“I am trying to help you, Alexandra. That’s why I’m negotiating with Osmond.”

“You’re bartering my pussy so he can fuck me. This isn’t about me. It’s about you.”

She stands to her full height, squaring her shoulders as she takes a step toward me. Her voice is soft, but there is no mistaking the venom dripping from every word.

“I’ll let every man on the pier fuck you if that’s what it takes to stay on top!”

My stomach drops.

“Whatever you think you feel right now, it’s about to get worse if you don’t get the fuck out of my sight, Alexandra.” She waves me off, turning back toward her spectacular view of the backyard.

Her allegiance to my father bought that view. Her submission to his rule granted her the status she holds now and will grant her even better leverage once she’s positioned under Amos. All of it is a criminal game, a race to see who can step on the most heads.

I guess I need to start stepping on heads.

It’s not until I reach my bedroom that the anxiety slams into me like a semi. My hands shake as I retreat to the bathroom, bowing over the toilet while holding my gut. Nothing but dry gags surface as my mind spins with ideas. Everything Parker has done so far is awful—I can’t imagine what his father would do to me.

But I can’t escape, I think while leaning against the counter. The dry heaving has ceased, but the nausea remains, a medley of emotions worsening my spinning brain. Lev can’t save me. And I can’t save myself. What the hell am I supposed to do?

My bedroom isn’t as appealing when I return to it. The pastel-pink walls, brown furniture, and collection of porcelain cows on the shelves surrounding my bed feel too childish for me, especially with the potential for my virginity to be gone before the year ends. This is a girl’s room, but I don’t feel like a girl anymore. I just feel like a waste.

I pull out my phone, thumbs hovering over the screen without making any move to tap the appropriate keys. I don’t want any trace of this getting back to my mother.

So, I wait until night, when I know I can cover my tracks.