Angel (A Reverse Harem Bully Romance): The Brotherhood Page 2

  ‘What the fuck is up with the males at this school?’

  His military style buzz cut accentuates the sharp angles of his face and the dark color accents his smooth, olive skin. He has multiple piercings—one in his full bottom lip and two in his upper right eyebrow. It really makes me second guess this school’s tight dress code.

  I lick my lips as I pass by—unable to resist messing with him and his stupid sneer. My skirt swishes against my legs, brushing the skin of his arm where he’s rolled up the sleeves of his black dress shirt. Heat flashes in his eyes, but it's accompanied by . . . hatred?

  As I turn to sit, I feel myself falling through the empty air as my chair is suddenly pulled from beneath me. Luckily though, I have amazing reflexes and manage to thrust my hand out and catch my balance on a nearby desk with a loud curse. Snickers break out around the room, but nobody will quite meet my eye when I shoot them all an evil glare.

  Except for him.

  The guy stares right at me—making a point to slide his outstretched leg back underneath his desk, clearly letting me know he’d been the one to sabotage my chair. The move is freaking childish and leaves me with a bad taste in my mouth.

  “Cute,” I whisper, taking my seat for real this time.

  The guy swivels his head towards me, meeting my gaze with his icy grey glare. Those eyes are unlike anything I’ve ever seen before. It's not so much the color of them . . . but rather the distinct lack of color that does me in. They remind me of storm clouds or cigarette smoke—swirling like blown glass with an unfathomable depth behind them. It takes me a moment to get my head on straight. He stares right back. His face is a carefully practiced mask of boredom.

  “I heard you were giving Carter shit this morning, new meat.” His voice comes out velvety low with a slight growl to it.

  'Yep, I'm in deep shit.'

  “I’m sorry, who?” I ask as I pull out my notebook, turning my face away from the boy as if I’m already bored though I’m anything but.

  I know damn well who he’s talking about.

  “Don't be coy. You really pissed him off.” He leans over the aisle between our chairs and the teacher has yet to call him out on it. “Carters not a good person to piss off, baby girl,” he warns.

  I snap my fingers like I just remembered, “Oh! You mean Sunshine?”

  His eyes briefly light up—flickering with carefully veiled humor at the nickname I've given this . . . Carter.

  “Sunshine, hmm? I think I like it,” he teases, but there's a darkness in his tone.

  “How do you even know about that? It's been less than five whole minutes,’ I glance at my watch dramatically.

  The boy raises an eyebrow and stares at me like I’m the village idiot.

  “There's this little thing called a cell phone. Some people even use them to communicate with one another in the blink of an eye.” His words are condescendingly slow.

  These guys really are a piece of work.

  I sigh before settling back in my chair, ignoring everything else around us.

  “All this over a parking space? You people really need to get out more,” I tell him just at the teacher begins to call roll.

  A minute of silence goes by and I think he's finally decided to leave me alone. I refuse to glance at him, but I do learn that his name is Ellis after the teacher called out his name. He must have leaned in again because I feel hot breath brush my ear, making me shiver.

  “You need to watch yourself, baby girl. This place is going to eat you alive,” he whispers.

  I turn to him. His face is so close to mine that our noses brush and it's a wonder the teacher hasn't reprimanded us yet. Regardless, I lick my lips slowly and watch his eyes bounce to them and back up again.

  “Promises, promises,” I whisper back, watching as his pupils expand—darkening those grey eyes and sealing my fate only an hour into my first day.

  Chapter Three

  Angel

  Lunchtime.

  The epicenter of high school cliques, gossip and bullshit. I have no choice but to join the throng of students as they funnel into the cavernous cafeteria littered with long rectangular tables and chairs. The flooring is a fancy dark cherrywood and the walls are forest green. An entire wall along the back is made of floor to ceiling windows, providing an excellent view of the Pacific just outside the school grounds.

  I skip the lunch line in favor of the cold thermos of coffee in my bag and the juicy red apple I'd packed this morning. My stomach and my brain can't even fathom the thought of eating anything else as my nerves still bubble up, plaguing my body with aches and jitters.

  I hate that I’m like this, but I feel so out of my element here. I'm used to being at the top.

  But not here.

  Not yet.

  I take the table closest to the wall of windows, settling myself in for a long hour of scrolling through my phone when soon after, I hear the click of heels tapping along the wooden floor with purpose. I attempt to ignore it, but a body plops down in the seat across from me and they fold their delicately manicured hands on the tabletop.

  Looking up, I meet the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen, set prettily in a nicely tanned face and framed by luscious blonde hair that cascades down the girls back in waves. She looks like Surf Barbie—gorgeous and perfect in every way.

  My body tenses and I wait her out. I won't be the first to speak. I've seen this scenario a million and one times. She’s obviously head girl around these parts and now she's here to put me in my place. It's every high school cliché ever, but I just want to get it over with.

  “I like your work,” she states bluntly. I look up at her in confusion but she continues, “Please teach me your ways . . .”

  Her question actually seems genuine. It only serves to confuse me more.

  “Do we know each other?” I ask, tilting my head to the side to study her.

  The girl chuckles, thrusting a hand out for a handshake. I stare at it—light pink nails and all, just waiting for the serpent to take its bite. I think better of it though and only hesitate for a second before grabbing her hand in mine and shaking once.

  “We don't, but something tells me we’re going to be fast friends,” she assures me confidently.

  I snort, “Are we now."

  “You handled Carter pretty well this morning. That asshole needed to be knocked down a few pegs, and I must say it was deeply satisfying to watch.” She smiles again with a cheeky glimmer in her eyes.

  “Ah, seems to be quite the topic today. Does he do that a lot—brag even though the guy clearly lost?”

  The girl rolls her eyes, “Yeah, he’s an ass. But be careful because he’s an ass who can make your life miserable if he’s painted a target on your back so you better watch out.”

  I blink at her.

  “Quick, hold my coffee while I shake in my boots!” I feign a shiver and she just snorts.

  “Oh yeah, I forgot! I’m Bethany Lucas, but you can just call me Beth. You're Angel—”

  “Valentino, that’s me.” I nod unsurprised. “Word travels fast around here doesn’t it?”

  “Unfortunately . . . but don’t worry, I’m here to show you the ropes.”

  Narrowing my eyes in confusion I ask, “Why are you being so nice to me?”

  Beth furrows her arched blonde brows—looking slightly offended, “Why wouldn’t I be? You're new and stood up to Carter Draven on your first day without peeing your pants—that alone earns you some well-deserved respect.” She places a fist over her heart in solidarity.

  “This place is psychotic,” I whisper loud enough for Beth to overhear as I shake my head in exasperation.

  She doesn't get defensive though; she just nods and takes a sip of her diet Coke I hadn't noticed was there.

  “You don't even know the half of it, girl. Those guys run this freakin place. I wouldn’t have the balls to cross them and I like to consider myself pretty outspoken.”

  “Are we still just talking about Carter—or someone el
se?” I ask, my curiosity spiking.

  There’s no way one dude should be able to control people like this.

  But just before she goes to answer, a hush falls over the room as the double doors swing open and a group of four boys stalk through.

  “Shit, shit, shit!” Beth whisper-yells. “Listen to me, please—don’t do or say anything stupid. These guys will eat you for breakfast if you provoke them.” She glances over again. “It might already be too late.”

  “Is that who you were talking about? Who are those guys?”

  Her eyes widen in horror. “How do you not know this, you've been here for four whole hours already!" She scoots in closer. "They call themselves the ‘Brotherhood.’ That’s Carter Draven, Holden Kingsley, Captain Montgomery and Ellis Faux.”

  Watching them enter the room is something akin to a religious experience—though I'll never admit that to anyone and I'd deny it at gunpoint. They swagger and strut like gods among mortals. None of them look like they belong in high school. Sure, they look young enough, maybe eighteen or nineteen at the most, but it's their eyes that say the most about them. They all hold the same haunting clarity to them that reminds me of my own reflection.

  Like seeks out like, and something inside of me is calling out to them.

  As if sensing my attention, the guy in the middle looks right at me as he heads this way with the other three in tow. His hair his coffee brown and hangs just past his shoulders with a section swept behind his ears. That well-fitting black uniform is tailored to perfection and his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows—showcasing a single black tattoo on his inner forearm. His eyes are dark like freshly turned earth. His holier than thou attitude shines through them as the heat of his gaze licks over my skin like fire.

  Holden Kingsley, according to Beth.

  “Look at you, little bird, making some friends already?” Holden jeers as they come to a stop at our table. His voice is deep and rich, complementing his dark looks.

  I squint at him, “Am I supposed to know you?”

  Beth cradles her head in her hands in my peripheral, pretending she’s not watching this train wreck.

  “I’m sure Bethany can fill you in. You and I will get to know each other here soon enough. Sooner, rather than later I hope,” He winks, but it somehow seems mocking. He has charm, but it's the sort of charm I have no problem seeing right through. It's calculated and measured.

  “I’ll take your word for it. Was there something I can help you with, or do you just like to hear yourself talk?”

  A swift kick to my shin under the table warns me I may have gone too far. I don't glance at Beth, knowing she did it for my sake and I'm not going to throw my only new friend under the bus. The girl seems genuinely scared of these guys and the thought angers me more than it should.

  Another guy to the other side of Sunshine and Holden steps forward slightly, bringing my attention to over him.

  This place is fucking ridiculous.

  I can't believe it took me this long to notice this adonis. A shock of silvery blonde hair sits artfully parted to the side and shaved short on the sides, accentuating the light golden color of his eyes. His face is pretty like Carters, but something about him just screams power and control. He looks clean and shiny, pressed to perfection and I’d bet some good money that he smells nice too. This must be Captain Montgomery, the only guy I haven't met.

  The golden demigod doesn't say a word, but moves in closer to Holden, as if providing silent backup but his silence only intrigues me more. His eyes haven't strayed from my face as he calculatingly watches me. I want to squirm but resist. I can't show weakness around these assholes.

  Holden chooses then to capture my attention once more and I look back to him, though reluctantly.

  “I just thought I’d introduce myself before this goes any further,” He shoves his hands into his pockets. “I get that you're new and don’t know any better, but here’s your one and only warning.” He steps towards me, squatting down until he’s eye level with my sitting position. “You ever fuck with one of my Brothers again and I’ll fuck with you right back.”

  He says the whole thing with a calm, charming smile and it sends chills across my skin. Normally, hearing those words from a teen boy would make me laugh until I threw up, but something in the depths of those dark eyes assures me he’s serious.

  Dead serious.

  This guy is dangerous.

  They all are.

  I can’t play into it though. No matter how much they unnerve me, I’m the Alpha here. I’ve watched as grown men have had their fingernails pulled from their skin while they hung from a rope in Papa’s basement.

  I’ve killed a man with my own two hands . . .

  I shake the memory away as I stare him down. In the end, I slowly stretch my red painted lips into a soft, serene smile that causes his eyes to narrow, regardless of the way his pupils just clearly dilated.

  He likes what he sees.

  It's my only advantage here.

  “It's so sweet of you to stand up for your boyfriend like that,” I coo as I reach out to pat his hand which grips the side of the table top.

  “I might even be a little jealous,” I whisper, leaning forward slightly. Our lips are centimeters apart and I watch as his eyes lock onto my mouth, sparkling with amusement.

  Flicking my glare to Carter, “I’m not moving my damn car, Sunshine so get over it. Now if you’re done pouting, my new friend was just about to show me where my next class is, right Beth?”

  Turning to the beautiful blonde, I watch as her eyes widen a fraction before she covers it with an innocent but nervous smile.

  “Uh, yeah of course. Follow me.”

  Chapter Four

  Angel

  Back at home, I crawl into bed knowing I don't have a chance in hell of getting any real rest. The events of the day just won’t stop replaying in my head.

  Sitting up, I grab my phone from the nightstand and open up the familiar folder I've always kept hidden and password protected. It’s the one filled with pictures of Sofia. A few of them are pictures of pictures—things I found tucked away in Gianna's closet because I knew she would never have thrown them away. Mama can be sentimental when she wants to be.

  Flicking through them, tears sting my eyes and this time I don't even try to stop them. Nobody’s here to see them—to see my weakness. I don't cry in front of people. The Famiglia beat that out of me a long time ago. Nowadays, I hold onto my anger and bottle it up just like every other child of the mob. But right now I let the tears flow freely down my cheeks, soaking the dark red bed sheet I pulled up to my neck as my mind is flooded with precious memories.

  Sof and I used to take a town car into the city when Papa left on his trips overseas—which was often. Between boarding school in the winter months and tutoring in the summer, it was almost impossible to find the time for sisterly bonding. Papa gave me a tutor for everything. No daughter of his would navigate this world unprepared and make a fool of the infamous Salvatore Valentino. So my days had been filled with language training, combat arts, financing and government. I learned it all.

  But my trips with Sofia were the real highlight of my childhood. Ten long years have passed since I've seen her, but those glorious days stick with me still. I remember the times she’d bribe the guards to look the other way while she took me to see a movie without them, or when we’d go to the zoo just for fun, knowing that Papa would have a fit if he knew. Papa didn't want people to see me—to know about me. It's not like I’m some dirty little secret or anything, but he definitely goes out of his way to keep me out of the spotlight while Sofia was paraded around like a prized pig.

  I still remember the last time I saw her…

  “Why can't you just stay here with me?” I beg as Sofia stands at the foot of her neatly made bed, folding the last of her silk blouses into the large black suitcase.

  Walking to me, Sof leans down and reaches out to lightly brush away a wayward strand of hair from my f
ace. She looks so much like me, only where my eyes are dark pools of midnight, hers are as clear and bright as emerald sea glass.

  “Look at me, Vita Mia,” she whispers—her slight accent lilting her words as I eye the man standing in the doorway with disdain.

  He's a big guy, with a huge fat face and stubby fat fingers . . .

  Sofia puts her fingers to my chin and makes me face her. “Don't look at him, he is nothing to you . . . I have to go, Angel. You have to be a big girl now and watch out for Mama,” she makes me promise and I shake my head defiantly.

  “But why?” I whine. I can feel the hot tears building in my eyes now. Papa would smack my face if he saw me crying but I don’t care. “I won't let you leave, Sof! I won’t!” I sob, flinging myself at my sister.

  With eyes shimmering with unshed tears, she catches me in her arms and holds on tight. She strokes my hair and sniffs it—inhaling deeply, as if savoring this moment. Soon though, a throat is cleared from the doorway and I know the man is becoming impatient. Over my sisters shoulder I glare right at him, sticking out my tongue and he scowls back.

  I hate him.

  I'd shoot him in his stupid bulldog looking face if I had the little gun Mama gave to me for my ninth birthday. But I know I can't. Not if I want to keep Sofia safe. She may be ten years older than me, but beautiful Sof has always been soft. She’s too delicate for this horrible world we live in.

  The man snaps something in Russian that I cannot understand, but I feel Sofia stiffen in my arms. She goes to pull away, but panic swells within me.

  ‘No, no, no, this can't be it! We should have more time!’

  “Let go, Angel. Do it now before they make you,” she urges me. Her breath is warm in my ear, and I hear the urgency in her voice. “We’ll see each other again, Vita Mia, I promise.”

  Letting go is the hardest thing I have ever done. My hands shake as I lose my grip on her delicate blouse. She backs away, grabbing her black bag while the useless blob of a henchman stands there watching—not even trying to help her.

  Papa never showed up to say goodbye to the daughter he sold. He’s still somewhere in Mexico, doing business and making more money while the Russians come to collect their prize.