Beautiful Hell: A Contemporary High School Bully Romance Read online

  I tilt my head in the direction of the window and suck in a deep breath. The sun’s pink glow lights up the sky. It’s impossible how at peace I feel on enemy territory. How being here, with her by my side, soothes parts of me that have been aching for way too long.

  But what happens when she finds out that you’re planning on taking down her father? My conscience chimes in. The longer we do this, the further she’ll fall and the harder the betrayal will strike.

  “Kira, I need to tell you something,” I say, and she raises her head to give me her undivided attention.

  “What is it?”

  “You have to promise me you’ll keep calm. That you won’t act on any impulses…”

  She frowns. “Now I’m worried.”

  I give her a smile, but I know it’s strained. Uneasy… the truth is never easy. “It’s about your dad. And about Joe Fowler.”

  My heart races a mile a minute as I watch the expression on her face fill with terror.

  “Oh…” She sits up, pulling the sheet over her breasts. “Okay…”

  “There’s a second reason why I’m trying to get closer to your dad,” I tell her. “And I’m not sure it’s fair to keep you in the dark. If we’re planning on going anywhere with this,” I point between us, “then you need to make that decision knowing my motives where your family is concerned.” She nods once, but I can see she’s already worried. It makes me want to shove the words back into my mouth and force them down my throat.

  Carefully, I smooth my hand over her head. It’s impossible to miss the tension oozing off of her as she pulls her shoulders back, preparing herself for whatever the hell it is I have to say. “Just tell me what it is, Elias.” Her voice trembles, despite the strength imbedded in each word.

  Another deep breath and I allow the truth to spill from my lips. “I don’t think Joe Fowler killed himself.”

  She says nothing. I have to keep going, though I can feel the tension flooding the room, already. I might end up regretting this, but I’m past the point of no return.

  “In short,” I add, “I’ve had my people investigate. There were inconsistencies with the medical examiner’s report and the suicide scene. There were emails and messages that prove William’s intention to buy Joe out of Fowler & Malone, along with Joe’s refusal to sell his shares. Did you know anything about that?”

  Kira thinks about it, the dark crease between her eyebrows deepening. “Where are you going with this, Elias?”

  “I think that William had something to do with Joe’s death.”

  “That’s insane,” she replies, her eyes wider with every moment that goes by. “Dad was at home. He never set foot in Baltimore. He talked to the police about this, more than once. You’re reaching, Elias.”

  “According to Joe’s mistress, he and William had agreed to meet in Baltimore that day,” I continue.

  Kira chokes out a laugh, annulled of humor. “Joe’s mistress?”

  I’m afraid I started this conversation from the wrong angle. I’m afraid I don’t quite know where to end it.

  “I understand this comes as a shock, but… I need you to trust me on this, Kira. I know he’s your father, and the last thing I want to do is hurt you, but if there is any truth to my suspicions…”

  She stares at me, virtually speechless. Tears glaze her eyes, and I’m seconds away from punching myself for putting her through this. Maybe secrecy would’ve been a better option.

  She’s about to say something, when a hard knock on the door startles us both.

  “Kira!” William shouts from the hallway. “Kira, open the fucking door!”

  “Oh shit,” she breathes, horror draining the blood from her face.

  Cold sweat bursts through my pores, as I realize what’s about to happen. This is the worst possible time for something like this. The absolute fucking worst. As if jolted by 220 volts of electricity each, we jump out of bed, and I scramble to put my clothes back on, while her father keeps banging on the door.

  “Kira, I swear to God, if you don’t open the door now, I will tear it down!” There are some more voices. Did Malone really bring the entire fucking security team with him?

  “Shit,” Kira murmurs, shaking as she tries to figure out what to cover herself with. Her eyes are wide with fear as she manages to fish a shirt and some pants from her dresser, staring at me, hoping I might have a solution.

  “I can’t be here…” I tell her, putting my jeans on. It’s amazing how difficult it can be to put on a simple pair of pants when Satan is trying to break down the door.

  “Elias…” she manages. “I… What do we do?”

  I can’t be bothered with buttoning up my shirt, so I rush to the window. “I can climb back down,” I say. “We’ll talk about everything else another time…”

  She nods and I rush over to the window. I’ve only got one foot through the opening by the time the door bursts open.

  Kira screams.

  William Malone comes in.

  He’s heaving like a raging bull, his eyes bloodshot and filled with pure hatred. He’s not surprised to see me. Shit, he was expecting to find me here. “YOU!” he snarls, pointing a finger at me. “You son of a bitch!”

  “Dad!” Kira tries to stop him, but William pushes her out of the way, hurtling towards me.

  I’ve got two choices here, one shittier than the other, and only a split-second to make my decision. Kira somehow makes that choice for me, as she locks her arms around his waist to hold him back. “Go, Elias, go!” she shouts.

  “Get off me!” William growls.

  This is it. I have to run.

  Breathless and with a pounding heart, I climb out the window and use the growing vines of honeysuckle on the side of the house to make my way down to ground level. The plant is huge, each vine thick and sturdy enough to hold me for the few seconds I need to flee.

  I’m barefoot, but the grass I land on is soft, and a little wet from the morning dew. I hear William shouting. His figure inundates the window frame, but he’s not brave enough to do what I just did.

  “You fucking bastard!” he shouts. “You better run, Dressler!”

  For the first time in my life, I obey his orders. I run, as fast as my legs can carry me. I can’t afford any physical confrontation with Malone—not while I’m paying people to investigate him for murder. The last thing I need is any kind of bias against him when I do present the conclusions to the police.

  For now, I run.

  26

  Kira

  “Have you lost your fucking mind?” I ask, shaking with an unprecedented magnitude. I can’t even think straight, fear and shock mangling my brain to the point where all I can do is balk at my father, trying to figure out what is happening.

  “You’re fucking Elias Dressler?!” Dad replies. He’s offended. As if I’m fucking Grandma or something.

  “I’m thoroughly confused here. I thought you two were buddy-buddies, doing charity galas together now,” I snap, well aware that his hatred of Elias would never fade away, and that he’s merely good at pretending to tolerate him. Even so, with everything that Elias just told me, I’m having trouble reconciling the father I know with the man standing in front of me.

  “Don’t be stupid!” he snarls. “I’m not his friend! He’s a Dressler! A rat! A nuisance! A threat to my wellbeing and the wellbeing of my company, and now… clearly a threat to the wellbeing of my daughter, as well!”

  “You’ve pitted us against each other for years! We’ve already had this conversation, Dad!” I shout. “Also, I’m an adult. I can fuck whomever I want.” He doesn’t react to that with words. Before I can blink an eye, his hand is moving forward, and white hot pain shoots across my entire face as he connects with my cheek.

  I pull my hand to my cheek, shooting daggers at him with my eyes. Then, I look to the door, where his security guard stands, looking just as enraged by his actions as I am.

  “How fucking dare you,” I hiss, not giving into the pain. “How dare
YOU barge into my bedroom like this?! How dare you put your hands on me? Have you lost your fucking mind?!” I shoot back, unwilling to yield. Sure, there are father-daughter rules I’ve broken here. What he did, however, is a million times worse. He didn’t just break those rules, he obliterated them.

  My father grits his teeth at me. “How long has this been going on?” he asks. “How long have you been sleeping with the fucking enemy, Kira? How long have you been betraying me in MY house?”

  “How did you know Elias was here?” I spit back at him.

  He didn’t come to my room with rationality, wanting to wish me a good morning. He came here, already pounding his chest, like he already knew Elias was here.

  Janelle comes to mind, but I push the thought away. She wouldn’t have. She wouldn’t have… right? No, she promised! She was offended when I mentioned it. It couldn’t have been her. But no one else knew…

  “This is my house, Kira. My door. Your room? Mine, too. As long as you’re under my roof, you will obey my rules!” He’s moving closer to me again, that murderous rage in his eyes. I want to respond, but I know better. Now is the time that I keep my mouth shut.

  My father completely closes the distance between us. “You fucking slut,” he hisses. And then, without warning, his hand is on my throat, his other hand punching wherever his fist lands. Pain shoots through me, not just in the places he strikes, but in every corner of my heart.

  I taste blood.

  I taste anger.

  I taste hate.

  “Mr. Malone, Sir!” The security guards voice cuts through the air, bringing my father to a halt. It’s just one of them left standing here now. I assume the others went after Elias. My father’s hand is still on my neck, keeping me in place, but no longer squeezing my windpipe shut. I think about hitting him, about kicking him in the balls, but I know that that would just turn his rage all the way up.

  “You wanna prance around like a fucking whore, Kira? Huh?” His hand grips my shirt and it takes nothing for him to rip the cloth from my body. I didn’t have time to put my bra back on and so my breasts are on full display. I’ve never felt more hopeless and helpless in my life. My pants are next. He doesn’t manage to pull it all the way off. Still, he lowers it enough for my pride and my dignity to slip out of place.

  “You want a piece of this, Stuart?” His gaze switches to his guard, who looks nothing short of petrified.

  “Sir?” is all Stuart manages. He’s shaking his head in both disappointment and as an answer to my father’s question. I don’t know who I’m more embarrassed for right now. Me, for having Malone as my father. Or Malone for being the way he is.

  “It’s not virgin pussy,” my father hisses, “but it’s free and apparently open for anyone who cares to get their dick wet.”

  I won’t cry.

  I won’t fucking cry.

  Not now.

  Not with him watching.

  Stuart turns, not just to look away, but to walk away from my father. “Get the fuck back here,” my father yells. The icing on the cake would come if his stupidity allowed him to put his hands on Stuart. Lucky for him – as unfortunate as it is – he’s not that stupid.

  When Stuart is no longer in his line of sight, my father lends his attention to me once again. I stare at him long enough to see his foot jerk back, but I don’t watch as he rams it into my side. “Fucking slut,” he spits and storms out of the room like a man on a mission.

  I don’t immediately leave my spot on the floor, afraid that the pain will multiply if I do. Hands over my chest, I guard myself from the world. My pants are still halfway down, my ass still on display. I’m shaking, anger vibrating through me without an end. He’s reached a whole new height of disgusting with this one.

  As if summoned, the pain in my ankle returns, spreading like wildfire. It’s stronger than ever, making my calf muscles sting. Coupled with the pain in my ribs from where my father kicked me, I’m not sure how I’m surviving this. I suffocate my sobs in my chest. Not for the sake of not giving in to my weakness, but because it fucking hurts. Everything fucking hurts. Especially my heart. The burning sensation intensifies, followed by sharp cuts—as if someone is hacking my leg with a machete, trying to get to the bone. I can’t even stand anymore, so I slump into a chair by the open window. The window through which Elias jumped.

  A million thoughts pummel through my mind. A million emotions all mixed into one clump of all the right ingredients to race someone into a never-ending depression.

  Janelle. I’d messaged her. I’d told her Elias was here.

  She wouldn’t do that to me, would she?

  But how else would my father have found out? He doesn’t have cameras in my room. I’ve been checking ever since I was sixteen years old.

  Another round of pain threatens to cripple me. In the corner of my eye, I spot the bottle of Oxy. It’s begging me to reach out to it. To allow it to help me. And Jesus Christ do I want to. My mind spins again and my head takes the trip right along with it. I have the bottle of Oxy pressed against my palm. I’m not sure what my plans are with it, I just know that I’m hurting from the inside out.

  In the distance, I hear the engine of a car. Likely my father. He’s gone. That’s a good thing. Right? I think so. But what do I do now? Do I stay, knowing that his wrath probably hasn’t found a definitive end? Do I leave, knowing that no matter where I go, he will find me?

  The house is quiet. Darkness reigns supreme.

  My phone has been ringing. I’ve ignored every call, trying to focus on what I can do against my father. I have considered every possible scenario so far, and I only have two options.

  The pain in my leg is impossible to overcome. It’s more persistent than ever. Perhaps more persistent than the pain in my ribs from where he kicked me. And also the pain in my head from where he pounded his fists against my temples.

  I thought I was strong, but I only feel strong when things are good. As soon as something goes sideways, I lose myself… That’s not exactly the definition of a strong woman, is it? I’m pretty sure it’s not. So here I am, wandering around the house, hugged by darkness and despair, trying to make my choice, the Oxy gripped firm in my hand.

  I can do as my father says, and leave everything I know and love behind, or I can find something that incriminates him regarding Joe Fowler—or any other crime, for that matter. The only way I’m going to get any peace is if he’s in jail. Does that make me a terrible daughter, or just a terrible person in general? Who’s to say he isn’t right about Elias? Who’s to say that he isn’t just trying to protect me? I taste the blood in my mouth and the answer to that last question comes very easily. I feel the scratch marks from where his nails scraped along my skin as he demanded his guard to fuck me and I know for certain what I need to do.

  I listen for movements in the house. It’s hard to hear anything over the pounding in my head, but I focus hard. Eyes closed. Breathing stilled.

  I know better than to think that in a match between William Malone and Elias Dressler, Elias comes out the villain. We grew up knowing what hatred meant and that wasn’t because we were born that way, it’s because we were raised to hate. I’m no Juliet and Elias sure as shit is no Romeo and I’d be damned if I allow the war between our houses – between our last names – to end like some twisted Shakespeare tragedy.

  My father does not deserve to win. No matter how long my mom stuck with him, I know that if she were here, she’d be on my side in all of this. If she could see that the scattering of good that existed in him when she was alive had been completely erased, she wouldn’t stand by him any longer. She wouldn’t want me to stand by him either.

  But the truth remains, William Malone will not go down easily. He’s spent years building his reputation, making friends with the local police, tightening his connections and paying off the right people, in order to make his business flourish.

  If he did kill Janelle’s father – a man he valued more than his own daughter – then who’s to
say how far he’ll take things if I continue to disobey him.

  I’m in his study now. He’s not home. I don’t know where he is, but I’m inclined to assume he’s at his favorite bar, laughing and drinking, pleased with everything he’s accomplished today—at the expense of his daughter’s happiness and sanity.

  I keep the Oxy bottle in my pocket. I’ve been telling myself that I can do this, that I can resist the urge. But the more I live through this nightmare, the harder it gets. Checking my phone again, I see another missed call from Elias. He’s the one I need the most right now. But if I let him get close, Dad will hurt him… or worse. I made him run away this morning, but I regret that decision and I hate that he allowed me to make that decision for him. I resent him for running… it wasn’t his fault, but I resent him for it.

  After all that ugliness, I wish he’d stayed. I wish we’d both stuck together and fought my father with everything we had. Instead, I let him tear us apart. I let him tear me apart.

  There aren’t many books in Dad’s study, mostly technical and legal stuff with a focus on real estate development. He’s an avid reader of murder mysteries, though. He’s got about sixty titles from Patterson and the likes. Maybe that’s where he got his idea with faking Joe Fowler’s suicide, if he did do it.

  He’s gathered some decorative pieces from his travels. A brass figurine, a few painted trinket boxes, a ceramic bowl glazed in turquoise… but his favorite stash of souvenirs is in a large fishbowl he keeps on a wide shelf, close to the window. My phone rings again. It’s Janelle, this time. I don’t have the energy to deal with her betrayal. I need to figure out what I’m going to do, and how I’m going to do it.