Chaos at Westbrook High (The Kingston Brothers #3)

Chapter 2

Present

Hidingaround the corner outside Kingston Palace, my heart is racing with adrenaline and fury, my fingers clutching the envelope I found under my door a little while ago. I’ve been standing here for ten minutes, watching people coming and going, waiting for my opportunity to move. Or waiting for the nerve to do what I came here to do.

I feel like I’m being watched. I don’t know why. I don’t have proof. But ever since I can remember, I’ve had this feeling that there are eyes on me everywhere I go. It’s more intense here somehow, as if they’re surrounding me on all sides, getting ready to pounce. It makes me so nervous that I consider leaving and never coming back. But I’m too angry to walk away now. I’m about to give this guy a piece of my damn mind.

The sound of loud, obnoxious engines hits my ears, and I press myself back against the wall. Unable to help myself, I peek around the corner to watch the three Lamborghini Uruses pull up at the entrance of the hotel. Damon, the oldest of the three, is the first to pull up with his wife, Callie, followed by Wren and Levi, and then there’s Kai, Wren’s twin brother and the current bane of my existence.

I heard Wren just got married in Vegas—the second Kingston brother to get married this year. It’s April. And they’re high school seniors for fuck’s sake. Whatever. Not my life, not my problem.

Once they’ve all climbed out of their cars and gone inside, their cars being parked for them, I wait a few moments to ensure they’ve had time to get into the elevator, then I take a deep breath and attempt to act casual, to act like I belong here. I don’t.

I walk around to the front of the building and adjust my ball cap to cover my face, instinctively checking left and right while I slip through the large, revolving doors at the top of the steps. This place is a huge, five-star hotel owned by one of the richest businessmen in America. There’s a black marble check-in desk on my left, manned by three immaculate looking people dressed in black and gold. The floor beneath my feet is also marble—black with flecks of gold to match the Kingston brand. Everything matches, and it’s weird and intimidating as hell. I don’t think I’ve ever seen so much money in one place before. Even the chandeliers above me and the paintings on the walls look like they’re worth more than I’ll ever make in my entire life.

A couple guys dressed in black suits look my way when I pass them—the boss’s security, I’m guessing. Their mouths move as they talk to each other, but they make no move from their position on the east wall. They don’t stop me. I keep going and press the button for the last elevator on the right, grinding my teeth while I wait.

I’ve never been here before, but he left me clear instructions on how to find him if I needed to, so I already know exactly where I’m going.

Once I get up to the twenty-first floor, I step out of the elevator to find yet another immaculate looking person—a woman with a phone wedged between her ear and shoulder as she taps away on the keyboard behind her desk. I sneak by and scan the long wall of fancy offices on my right, squinting my eyes to read the name plates on the doors. The biggest one in the middle. That has to be it.

“Excuse me!” the woman calls, but I don’t turn around, my fingers cramping around the envelope while I use my other hand to bang on the door. “Hey,” she snaps, running toward me. “You cannot go in there without an appointment.”

The guards on the other side of the room haven’t moved an inch, but this chick clearly means business. Fearing she’s about to grab me and drag me out of here by my ear, I twist the door handle and push my way into her boss’s office, coming face to face with the other current bane of my existence. He’s sitting behind his desk—black and gold marble because of course it is—his elbows resting on the arms of his chair, his fingers locked together on his abdomen. His eyes are already on mine, and he doesn’t look at all surprised by my presence here, meaning the two guards downstairs probably know who I am and warned him I was coming. I already knew that was going to happen, but still, it sucks to be me when the enemy always seems to be three steps ahead of me.

“You went to my apartment?” I bite out.

A dark brow lifts at my tone. It’s only now I realize he’s currently in a private meeting of some sort.

“I’m so sorry, Mr Kingston. She was so…quiet. I didn’t see her in time. She just barged in,” his assistant rushes to explain. “Should I have security escort her out?”

“That won’t be necessary,” he tells her, dismissing her with a flick of his wrist. Then he turns to face the man sitting across from him. “What are you laughing at?”

Instead of answering, the other man grins and shakes his head, clearly amused as he stands up to button his suit jacket. “Tell your boy he can call me anytime.”

“I will.”

They shake hands. The other man walks toward the door—toward me—and I narrow my eyes, moving my gaze over his fancy clothes as if that’ll clue me in on his job description. “Are you his lawyer?”

“I am…” he drawls, confirming my suspicion that yes, this is the man they use to bury all their dirty little secrets—the same man who helps the Kingstons get away with murder. “Why?” he asks, looking at his client, then back to me again. “Do you need legal advice?”

“Keep walking, Claude.”

Claude chuckles, nodding at me before he leaves and closes the door behind him.

“What was that look for?” I ask the man I came here to see.

“He probably thinks I’m sleeping with you.”

I scrunch my nose, my stomach twisting in disgust. “Ew.”

Silence follows. Elijah looks at me intently, seeming to assess my mood, lifting his palms up as if I’m a ticking time bomb about to go off on him. “It was just a standard meeting about my new son-in-law’s inheritance.”

“If you say so,” I mutter, stepping closer to drop the envelope onto his desk.

“Hailey,” he says, completely ignoring the papers in front of him, his dark eyes assessing my face and the dark circles beneath my eyes. “Are you oka?—”

Before he can finish, I snatch the envelope back up, ripping the papers out to shove them down in front of him. “What is this?” I press my fingertip to the first page, where my name is written at the top.

“What does it look like?” he asks, still not looking at them.

“It looks like you went to my home and stuck your nose where it doesn’t belong. Again.”

“Again,” he echoes flatly.

Yes, again. God, the amount of shit he’s holding over my head should have caved in and crushed me by now. This is the man who’s been controlling what happens to me my entire life. The man who came to my aunt Valerie ten months ago and told her he could save the business that’s been in our family for thirty-seven years. My grandfather named it after her, his youngest daughter. She was just a baby when he built that coffee shop. She didn’t want to take Elijah’s money, but I was the naive little fool who begged her to let him help us. Now my aunt is gone, and he owns everything. My shop, my apartment, not to mention the debt and everything else she left me. His name is on everything I own, everything I care about, and I’ll be damned if I’m about to let him take control over this aspect of my life, too.

“I’m not going to that school.” I sneer. “Not with them.”

“Yes, you are. You got yourself kicked out of Bridgeport?—”

“That was one mistake,” I cut in. “One.”

He continues as if I never spoke. “So now you’re going to graduate from Westbrook High.”

“The fuck I am.” I shake my head. “Why can’t you just pay Bridgeport to take me back?”

He cocks his head at me, and I roll my eyes.

“Don’t look at me like that. You’ve gotten your own kids out of deeper shit than this. What I did was child’s play compared to the shit they’ve done.”

Jesus Christ, I’m pathetic. Desperate. Sinking this low and comparing myself to his children like I’m entitled to the same special treatment. I’m nothing to him and I never will be.

He leans back in his seat and studies me while I begin to pace, my heart pounding with anxiety at the thought of transferring to their school. To Kai’s school.

My aunt was paranoid and terrified of losing me, which is why she sent me to school in Bridgeport, the next town over. Elijah never liked it, but it wasn’t up to him. Valerie did everything she could to keep me away from here, to hide me from those who wanted to hurt me.

The first day I went back to school after she died, one of the girls who’s been giving me shit for years pushed me too hard, and I punched her in the teeth. I was immediately dragged away before I could get a second hit in, but that one was enough. It felt good to fight back for once. Really fucking good. But that feeling is gone now, because within just a few weeks of Valerie’s death, I’ve gone and screwed up everything she did for me.

“Elijah…” I trail off, unsure what to say to get through to him, but I have to try. “You can’t do this. You’re not my dad…”

“When you were a baby, Valerie fought me so hard I thought she might beat my ass to get to you. She swore to me she could protect you.”

“She did protect m?—”

“But she also made me promise that if there ever came a time when she couldn’t, that would become my job.”

I’m shaking my head before he’s even finished, swallowing the brick-sized lump in my throat.

“You’re a smart girl, Hailey,” he continues. “Why do you think social services haven’t come to get you yet?”

I don’t answer that, my eyes welling with helpless tears as I wait for him to say what I already know.

“You’re seventeen years old,” he states, and even though his tone is final, it doesn’t sound cruel like I thought it would. It’s soft, which makes it even worse if that’s possible. “I am your legal guardian and you are my responsibility.”

I turn away and pull the hat off my head, dragging a hand through my hair as I look out at the city below through the floor to ceiling windows. “Why?” I whisper, my vision blurring with tears. “Why would she do this to me?”

“Probably because I have more money than everyone you know combined.”

I glare at him for that, partly because I wasn’t asking him, but mostly because he’s wrong and he knows it. That would never have been the reason.

“Or maybe it’s because I’m the only family you and your brother have left.”

“You are not my family,” I grit out, furious with myself for these stupid tears that won’t stop slipping.

I wish I wasn’t falling apart in front of him right now, and judging by the look on his face, he shares that same feeling. He looks uncomfortable as hell, his finger hooked beneath the collar of his shirt as he pulls on the black tie around his throat.

“Hailey…” he tries, but I’m not listening.

All I can think about is the fact that Valerie would hate this. She sent me to Bridgeport for a reason, and even though all I ever wanted when I was a kid was to go to Westbrook where I was born and raised, I don’t want it like this. I don’t want him to give it to me.

“What happens if I don’t go?”

“You already know what’ll happen,” he says quietly—almost apologetically—and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out what he’s talking about. My coffee shop. After Valerie died, he promised it would be mine on my eighteenth birthday, but his promises don’t mean shit to me these days. And would you look at that? He’s going back on his word already. I don’t know why I’m surprised. He is a Kingston, after all. Most of them are ruthless, entitled, lying motherfuckers who only care about staying on top. I used to like him, but my respect for him died around the same time Valerie did.

“You’re a real son of a bitch, you know that?”

“Yes, but this is about you, not me.” He sighs, seemingly unbothered by my name calling. “I know I’m not your favorite person right now, but you need to stop letting your pride ruin your life before it’s even really started. Go and finish high school, Hailey. Make some new friends. Go to college this fall. It’s what Valerie would have wanted.”

“You don’t know shit about Valerie.”

“You know that’s not true.”

“She wouldn’t want this,” I whisper, more to myself than him, my heart aching at the thought of the woman who loved me like I was her own. She wasn’t my mother, but she was the only one I ever knew. “She never would have agreed to this…”

“She was paranoid and afraid, but she always wanted the best for you. She’d want you to be happy.”

“And you think this will make me happy?”

“Maybe. Maybe not.” He shrugs. “But you’re gonna try it and find out.”

I take a breath and wipe the skin beneath my eyes with my fingers, turning my face to look at him out of the corner of my eye. “It’s really this or I lose my shop?”

He nods, but I’m not sure I believe him.

“What’s the catch?”

“Convince him to talk to me.”

I laugh a little at that, shaking my head as I snatch the envelope to shove the papers back inside. “No.”

“Hailey—”

“I said no!” I raise my voice, struggling to control the sudden temper I’ve developed over the last couple months. “I might be your responsibility, but I’m not your errand girl. You tossed him away like he meant nothing. Now you have to deal with the consequences.”

He stares at me for a long moment, and I almost think he’s about to argue with me, but then he shuts his mouth and nods, conceding. “Fine. You’ll go to Westbrook?”

“As long as you promise not to tell them.”

“About?”

“Everything. I don’t want your three little monsters knowing a thing about me or my life.”

He raises an eyebrow at that, once again leaning back on his throne with that stupid, smug expression on his face. “You expect me to lie to my children?”

“Don’t give me that shit. You’re lying to them anyway.”

He doesn’t respond, so I move to leave, stopping when he calls out, “Hailey.”

“What?”

“I have five children, not three,” he tells me. I don’t turn around to find out if his face matches the warning in his tone. “Damon, Callie, Wren, Levi, and Kai. If you do anything to hurt them, I will make you regret it. Do you understand me?”

I’m not planning on hurting them, but I still sneer at his audacity. Me hurt them?

“Give me a fucking break, Elijah,” I mutter, opening the door to let myself out.