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Simple.
The V-card has to go and it has to go now. I refuse to do the three knuckle shuffle one more time.
The large brick walls of the mansion tower above me as my feet crunch over the pebbled driveway. Before I came here, I would have thought having money would be the perfect life. It’s not. Money just seems to create an illusion of quality and happiness. It all feels stiff. Like this house and the perfect decor inside are just props.
I remember how villainous this place looked when I first arrived. With the dark shutters and the perfectly trimmed hedges all dripping in money that I’ve never had.
Not to mention the boys.
Also villainous looking. Also dripping in money. Intimidating but alluring all at the same time.
I pass through shadows of the large balconies that jut off the building that’s been my home for a month now, heading toward the neighbors. Damon is going to be a senior too. He’s friendly with Knox, in the neighborly way, but not friends with Knox.
Not many are, after all.
Warm, smooth metal meets my fingertips as I let my hand playfully run against the grand fencing that separates the two estates. I feel like a predator in a way. I like it. Damon doesn’t know what I’m coming for. The poor boy doesn’t have any idea about the sinfully good intentions I have for him and me.
At a distance I can see Delores Sienna playing in the dirt. She doesn’t protect the delicate lace on her pretty dress while she sits in the dirt kicking up a cloud of dust. She’ll be grounded again the moment her mom sees that dress. She’s a sweet girl with more expensive items than I could ever dream to own and all she wants to do is play with mud.
She has no idea what she has at her fingertips.
None of them do.
Delores turns and locks eyes with me, the sparkling glimmer of unscared youth reflects in them as they widen. It takes me back to the first day I came here. Her face was pressed so close to the fencing I swore her head would get stuck between the black bars.
However, that’s not what scared me the most.
“Knox Reyes is a murderer.” That’s what the little girl had whispered when the Reyes’s family driver dropped me off at their front steps.
Her voice was so quiet that I had to walk up to her and ask her to repeat herself.
It was clear as day when she said it in slow, crawling words.
Knox Reyes is a murderer.
I glanced up the steps at the boys who waited for me then, the three of them looming in the big expanse of the doorway.
The brooding quiet one with eyes as dark as sin didn’t greet me, he didn’t say a word as he took my few belongings inside with his butler.
Her harsh whispered warning has echoed in my mind daily. A daunting alarm that’s waiting to go off at any moment.
Knox Reyes is a murderer.
He didn’t look like a murderer. Not in his neatly ironed sweater carefully tucked into pressed khaki pants. The red tie, perfectly knotted, seemed a sinister color peeking out over the neckline of his shirt directly under the white collar of the button up underneath it all.
It screamed rich.
Rich boys don’t murder. They don’t have unsettling rage within them.
They have money and that’s all they need in life.
At least, that’s what I thought before I met him.
Knox Reyes is all harsh lines and sharp angles. Deep brooding eyes set under thick dark brows, a jaw that could cut glass, and lips pressed tightly together in constant suppressed anger.
It radiated from him.
Those large hands of his, always clenched at his sides, were scarred and calloused underneath expensive tattoos. Working hands that shouldn’t belong to someone of his status.
