Little Plaything: A Dark High School Bully Romance (Reighton Preparatory Academy Book 1) Read online

  LITTLE PLAYTHING

  __________

  A Dark Reverse Harem High School Bully Romance

  Reighton Preparatory Academy, Book 1

  __________

  USA TODAY Bestselling Author

  Belladona Cunning

  COPYRIGHT © 2019 by Belladona Cunning

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without prior written consent from the author, except for quotations in a book review.

  All places, people, and instances are merely coincidental and are in no way a direct reflections of persons living or deceased.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  LITTLE PLAYTHING

  COPYRIGHT

  BLURB

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAPTER 22

  OTHER BOOKS BY BELLADONA CUNNING

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  BLURB

  Telling the truth was supposed to set me free, but all it did was shackle me.

  I didn’t think my life could get any worse.

  My mother is gone. My father got remarried. Now he’s forcing me to move and enroll in a pretentious academy at his new wife’s behest.

  He may follow the money, but my mother always told me to follow my heart.

  I just didn’t expect to piss off three of Reighton Prep’s golden boys by doing so.

  Brett, Dorran, and Chaz give me chance after chance, but when I snub their advances one too many times, I find the error of my ways pretty quickly.

  But it’s too late to make up for it, even if I wanted to. Because they’re not going to allow my disobedience to slide.

  I just didn’t expect them to go this far.

  How much is a soul worth?

  According to them, money can buy anything.

  Even me.

  CHAPTER 1

  I want to burn this place to the ground.

  Set fire to the nauseatingly perfect, little shrubs they probably have planted just outside the picturesque front door. Possibly pour a can of gasoline in their hallway, then light a match and blaze it while I walk away.

  I’m kind of a pyromaniac, and I thrive on the very idea of flames eating up the entirety of a building at a rapid pace. I want to watch as it completely engulfs all the medieval architecture. Watch with glee as the flames lick up toward the jagged edges and stone points that make up RPA, because you know with a place called Reighton Preparatory Academy, it’s probably reminiscent of something that reminds you of a fifteenth century cathedral.

  Fuck me, you even have to produce a keycard to enter the city limits of Reighton! It’s possibly population six-hundred, and they pretend the president lives here. I get they have money and all, but, what the fuck? It’s just a small town that offsets North of La Jolla. It’s over forty-five minutes away from the place Laura and Xavier will live full time in her home on the beach. A house I haven’t got the liberty of seeing yet, only to hear about it from the two of them.

  If it had been any other situation, I could probably get on board with this. But, as it is, I loathe the fact they’re forcing me to do this. Forcing me to go to a school that more than likely has lovely, vibrant colors year-round—you know, because it’s California and everything is much bolder out here than on the East coast. It could be full of life and energy, beckoning its students to lose themselves in what RPA offers, and I still won’t bite.

  Ha, that’s not me. While all those other students laugh, joke, and mess around with their friends, I’ll just be the cynical bitch stuck in a bad mood swing, flipping off every Tom, Dick, and Harry as they walk past. But don’t fret, I’ll keep a smile on my face as I do it. At least, I’m not that hostile. Yet.

  No one asked my opinion on coming here. Hell, they didn’t even worry about my view on the subject. They just did what they wanted with no thought of how I’d feel. They ripped away me from my school, a place I have been attending since I was five; an independent school that caters from preschool all the way until senior year.

  I had to walk away from my friends, my now ex-boyfriend, Trevor, and leave them all behind. Nothing I said or did stopped them, and I did a lot to keep from coming here. My last trip to the police station comes to mind, making me smile.

  You want to know what the kicker here is? What really chaps my ass from here to kingdom come?

  One of my ‘parental’ figures seems to think it’s their right to tell me what to do, and I don’t even freaking know her like that. She came out of nowhere, swiping up my father, Xavier, into a world of money and prestige. He’s nothing more than a trophy husband to her, one she can cling to at elegant functions and business dinners. Just sucks for her we come as a package deal.

  My mother isn’t even cold in the ground yet, and already, Xavier remarried and moved on with his life. Well, it’s been two years since she passed away, but that’s not the point. The fact of the matter is, he knew moving across the country would piss me off; moving away from her. He also knew that taking me away from everything I know, then shoving me into a world I couldn’t even fathom being part of, would be icing on top of the proverbial shit cake.

  They can both kiss my ass. They brought me here, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it. In fact, I know I won’t.

  “You’ll love it here, Ariyal!” Laura gushes, ignoring the way I shoot scathing looks her way. I’ve been doing that since I disembarked at San Diego International, loving the slight tick in her jaw when I hit that nerve. She pretends she doesn’t have one, but I wasn’t born yesterday. She loathes the idea of having a stepdaughter; especially one like me.

  “How much longer to Hell?” I inquire, garnering a disapproving glare from my father. One I completely disregard.

  Our eyes meet in challenge. We’ve both always been level-headed in big decisions, but this time, Xavier really flopped. To be honest, I sincerely believe he should have his adult-card taken away, because it’s clear him and decisions don’t mix very well.

  He’s one reason I’m alive, so he’s had seventeen years to get used to my shit. He knows what he’s doing pisses me off, but he doesn’t seem to care. The moment he met Laura, thirty freaking days ago, that was all she wrote. She enamored him; had my father following around after her hand and foot like some love-sick puppy with attachment issues.

  “Oh, we’re here!” she coos, clapping her hands.

  She shifts in her seat until she perches on the edge. A terrible idea forms in my mind as I peruse her. She’s so precariously sitting on the end of the seat, that if I kicked out …

  “Don’t. Even. Think about it, Ari,” Xavier whispers harshly.

  My eyes snap to his, narrowing behind my shades, even as a smile twists my full lips into a sneer. “You should have just left me in New Jersey,” I voice, then shift forward and kick behind Laura’s ankles with the speed and precision of a viper. A scream claws its way out of her throat as she loses
balance, ending up on the floor of the limo. She grunts when her ass hits the forgiving plush carpet, and she mutely stares up at me, as if I’ve done her wrong.

  “Ariyal Nikohls!” Xavier slaps at the leather console, the boom echoing through the interior of the limo. Does it scare me? Hell. Fucking. No. I’m ready to go to war anytime he is. I may love him, but I don’t have to like him.

  “D-Did I do something wrong?” Laura whispers, always the damsel in distress, this one.

  It actually sounds like she’s about to cry. If I didn’t know her type, I’d feel sorry for the shit I’m giving her. But considering I do, there’s no remorse coming from this gal, I can tell you that right now.

  He sighs, wearily. “No, precious, you didn’t.”

  My father peers down at me with utter disappointment shining in his chocolate brown eyes. He reaches for Laura with a gentleness I wish I didn’t yearn for myself. Instead of helping her back into the seat next to me, he drags her into his lap. I have to glance away from them when she snuggles into his chest, releasing a sigh of content. It’s hard to see Xavier Nikohls with another woman besides my mother. Especially one wearing his grandmother’s wedding ring—the same one that used to be on my mother’s finger.

  I have to fight the tears burning at the back of my eyes, because they’re there and they’re ready to unleash any moment. It’s hard to keep up the facade of ‘frigid bitch,’ that pushes everyone away with her tough words and inconsiderate actions, but I have to do something. No one will catch me with my pants down again when it comes to someone I love. If I get too close, it will only hurt that much more when it’s time for them to go.

  It nearly crippled me when I had to say goodbye to my mother. My father and I had to watch as the cancer devoured her, taking her softness and grace until she was nothing more than an empty shell. Until there was no pigment left to her skin, and it looked like her flesh was thrown over a skeleton.

  I still have nightmares when I dream about her, wondering why it had to be her instead of someone else. Someone in their seventies or eighties—someone that had already lived such a full life. My mother was only thirty when she passed away. She and Xavier had me when they were super young, but they never allowed that to stilt their parenting. They loved me, wholeheartedly. There was never a day that went by I couldn’t revel in the existence that was my family.

  There were days, mostly weekends, that she needed to get away for some job she was doing. But neither my father nor I said a word. She would leave on a Thursday evening and return on Monday morning. She always came back with little trinkets and memento’s to give me here or there, and I absolutely adored them. Her last visit is where the boots now on my feet came from.

  I would miss her terribly when she was gone, but in hindsight, I believe she was unknowingly trying to get me ready for her early departure. However, we all didn’t know how soon she would go. It still nearly killed me when she did.

  But now, it’s just the two of us. We were two peas in a pod. It took me months to get used to not having my mother around. I got to grieve in peace, crying myself to sleep almost every night, because the pain was just too crippling.

  My mother would have allowed me to mourn as long as I needed if it had been my father to pass away. She would have been right there with me, holding me and whispering sweet coos of nothings into my ear. She would have made it her mission to see a smile on my face again. Unlike him, my father, who married the first heiress he could get his hands on, and permanently turn my smile upside down.

  I hear him shift, releasing a sigh. “Ari …”

  “Leave me alone,” I retort.

  For the first time since he brought me here, I’m actually glad they’re about to drop me off. Not that I want to be here, per se, but it’s the fact I won’t have to see them if I don’t want to. They will return to La Jolla, and they can go back to pretending it’s just the two of them. I’ll stay in Reighton, by myself, which suits me perfectly.

  Maybe I can fake it for a few weeks, then leave. I’m almost eighteen anyway, so it’s not like he can do anything if I go missing. By the time they find me, I’ll be eighteen and perfectly legal to be on my own. If I do that, I won’t have to answer to anyone. I can do what I want, when I want, and maybe, I’ll end up back in New Jersey.

  I press my face against the glass moments before we drive through an archway of trees and roll to a stop. Without moving my head, my gaze takes in as much of the campus as I can see. It looks just like I thought it was going to. Pretentious as fuck. I scoff.

  “You have to be kidding me,” I murmur. Leaving sounds a lot better the more I think about it. There’s no way I’ll fit in here.

  I’m already planning the ways to get myself kicked out, because it will happen, I can already see it. This place is too rich for my tastes. The students that attend here have blue running through their veins, and I’m lucky if mine is the color of ink.

  The academy screams ostentatious assholery, like one of those multi-billion-dollar cosmetic companies my new stepmother inherited the moment her father stepped down as CEO. He did so mere weeks prior to hers and my father’s wedding. Coincidence? I think not. They planned it. I just wish I knew why.

  I’d much rather be back in New Jersey, shaking a can of spray paint so I can graffiti up the cement walls of an abandoned bridge. Allow my artistic side to take me over, while I create something beautiful that will stay there forever. At least, with that, I feel more like myself than I do here. Not like I’m some rich, stuck-up snob.

  Student’s mill around the campus, probably going to and from their ‘uppity-up’ classes. Again, like I predicted, there are a plethora number of them laughing and teasing one another. They appear as if they have not one care in the world, and I guess they probably don’t. Their parents make sure of that, giving them anything and everything they want.

  My eyes scan the trees, which appear to comprise of mostly oak or maple, I really don’t know, but they look as if they were transplanted here. They don’t seem like they belong, which is something we already have in common, because I don’t belong here, either. There is a tall fountain right in the middle of—what I can only describe as a courtyard of sorts—with a lion bearing the weight of a crown atop its head. Streams of water shoot high into the sky, the mist soaking the students closest to it.

  “Please, tell me you’re joking.” I groan.

  “Can it, Ari!” My father loses his cool.

  I shake my head, staring out at the large, looming structure before me. The main building has two towers on either side, fitted with jagged spears at the tip that go around the top in full circle. Every window is gleaming, shining to perfection, much like the landscaping. It looks too perfect, and the artist in me wants to mess it up a bit, make it more chaotic.

  “So, you’re dropping me off here and leaving?” I ask, already knowing the answer, but needing the confirmation, anyway.

  “The term just started a few weeks ago,” Laura says. “You can come home during Thanksgiving break.”

  Home? Not fucking likely. My home is in New Jersey. And I will not go anywhere with … what?

  My head snaps toward them. “What about fall break?”

  She shoots a guilty look toward me. “Um, your father and I will be in Europe during that time, so you must stay here. Didn’t he tell you?”

  Just. Perfect.

  “No,” I reply angrily, giving Xavier a mean look, to which he has the gall to look guilty. “He didn’t, unfortunately. Probably just an oversight.”

  Yeah, right. I know he loves me, but he’s firmly in the “pussy” bubble. The only thing he cares about is Laura and what she offers him from between her thighs and the flaps of her wallet. The Amex she gave me when we got in the car is testament to that.

  I huff, then leave myself to fate as I grasp the lush door handle and pull it open. Hot, humid heat takes my breath away as I step out. Instant sweat trickles down the back of my neck as I scan my gaze over the students maneuvering
across campus. Some stop to get a gander at the new circus freak, their eyes practically popping out of their sockets.

  I’m absolutely positive I will stand out, and I know the exact reason why. I pulled up in a luxury limo, yet I look like I just walked right out of the ghetto. Torn jeans, a white tank that pulls tight across my ample chest, and shitkicker boots on my feet. I bet if they look closer, they’d even see the sharpie I used on my boots, so they don’t look so worn and used.

  My chestnut brown hair hangs down to mid-back, but it’s up in its usual French braid. There’s a pair of large Aviator sunglasses resting on my button nose, and bracelet upon bracelet donning each wrist. Just enough, but not quite, to hide the tattoo of the feather I got for my mother when she passed away.

  I look nothing like these conceited kids. There is no way I will fit in here even if I wanted to. A Zebra can’t change its stripes, just like Ariyal can’t change into a vivacious blueblood.

  Taking a finger, I put it on the side of my sunglasses, tipping them down to the tip of my nose. I catch a guy running his eyes up and down my body, hungrily, and merely wink and push them back up.

  My eyes pass over shrubs, rolling, then peer toward the mounds of green as far as the eye can see. However, my gaze doesn’t roam for long, because seconds later, they land on something—or should I say someone—that piques my interest greatly.

  “He’s fucking hot,” I say just as the door behind me slams shut.

  “We aren’t sending you to school to hook up, Ari. We’re sending you here for an education.”

  I shrug, smirking. “Too bad I can do both and you will never know about it.” Not that I ever will, because I’m not some slut that will jump in bed with anyone. A guy has to pet me and ease me into the idea. Wine, Dine, then fuck me. I’m an expensive bitch like that.

  I catch my father’s gaze, seeing his mouth thin with displeasure. He’s staring in front of him, and I follow his eyes until mine land back on the guy a few yards in front of us. He has to be the sexiest piece of muscles I think I’ve ever seen, and that’s saying something, because my ex, Trevor, is quite the looker.