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He was staring a hole right through me, not even sparing a glance at the fawning housekeeper.
I turned around and picked up my torn book, shoving the pieces into my backpack.
“I’m just going to help my mom,” I mumbled, avoiding the angry boy’s glare and Mrs. Linton’s disapproval.
What was it she’d called him?Master Beckett.Kill me, what a rich jerk.
“What’s your name?” Beckett demanded and reached out to grab me when I tried to slide past him.
I stopped, trying to tug my wrist from his viselike grip. “Why?”
“Don’t ask why, girl. What would your mother say about your manners?” Mrs. Linton chided. “Tell us your name, or you can both go home right now.”
I swallowed down my refusal. What did it matter if he knew my name? It sounded like I might have cost my mom the job, anyway. Guilt coated my tongue, and I raised my eyes to the bully’s.
“It’s Eve. Eve Martino.”
“Eve,” he repeated. “Eve Martino.” It sounded like he was committing it to memory.
I didn’t like the calculating glint in his eyes one bit. He leaned in and held me in place while he whispered lowly. “You’re dead meat, Eve Martino.”
“I-I have to go,” I muttered, pulling out of his grip and hurrying toward the room where I’d last seen my mother.
This time, he let me go.
Beckett
FIFTEEN YEARS OLD
My fifteenth birthdaywas my first big party at Cliff Point. My father was barely home, so he didn’t really care. Since my mom had died, he rarely showed up at our house in Hade Harbor, leaving me with my stepmom.
Colette.
After my mom died, it had taken me a long time to feel like Cliff Point was home again. I tortured myself with thoughts of that day, regrets. I imagined I could see her disappearing down hallways and slipping into rooms. Still, it felt like home with her ghost.
That all stopped when Colette arrived. My father married her before I’d even met her. That day when Eve Martino had seen me cry, I’d only known Colette for two weeks. Back then, I’d only thought of her as an annoying wannabe parental figure in my life.
I’d had no idea she was so much worse than that.
So, so much worse.
My fifteenth birthday party was Hawaiian-themed, for some fucking stupid reason. The pool was full of themed floats, there were fruity mocktails being served to kids (and seriously strong ones to parents), and everyone was dressed up in their best Hawaiian-style apparel.
I was wearing a T-shirt and swim shorts, exactly what I’d wear in Hawaii.
Colette’s friends were all in attendance. Luckily, she’d let me invite some school friends. I only needed Marcus Bailey and Asher Martino, my two best friends and hockey teammates.
Unfortunately, Asher had brought his twin sister, Eve.
Eve, the girl who had spied on my broken family at the worst possible time. Eve, the plucky little Cinderella who had annoyed me from day one, but was safe from my wrath because of who her brother was.
“Beck!” Colette insisted on calling me by the same name my mother had used. Every single time she said it, I hated her a little more. That was some feat, considering how much of my heart – frozen in time when my mother had passed – was already black and rotted with hate for the woman who lived with me. Still, I managed it.
“Come and help me with something in the pool house,” she said, clipping past me in a white bathing suit and high heels. The woman thought she was hot, but really, her inner bitch showed through no matter what she wore.
I trailed her dutifully toward the pool house. Lately, Colette had been different with me, and I didn’t like it. Her looks lingered when I was swimming, and her hands sometimes skimmed my arm or patted my thigh. She probably thought we were growingcloser, forming a real familial bond. She had no idea that I had zero intention of giving two fucks about her, ever.
The pool house was stuffy inside, given the warm August weather.
