Chapter Two
Bridgette
I wake up to a loud banging sound from downstairs. Seriously? It’s bad enough that we had to open our house up to literal strangers, and now they can’t even respect decent fucking hours. Glancing at my phone, I see that it’s nine thirty in the morning. Normally, I would be up long before now, but it’s summer break, and I was out late last night with my friends.
Throwing my blankets off me, I stomp my feet into my slippers before I take off in search of the asshole ruining my morning. When I make it into the kitchen, the culprit is unsurprising.
“What the fuck, Bartlett? Some of us are trying to sleep!” I snap.
Margret Bartlett turns her head full of curly bright red hair to look over her shoulder. She’s wearing black lipstick, black eyeliner, and, oh wow, wouldn’t you have guessed it, a black t-shirt and shorts. She’s so fucking weird and yet so predictable.
She furrows her brows at me and shakes her head.
“It’s like ten in the morning. Get over it, sleeping beauty.”
“I don’t give a fuck! This is not your house?—”
“According to daddy dearest, yes it is,” she mocks with a fake smile that has me wanting to claw her goddamn eyes out.
Rage flares inside me. “Daddyyyyy!” I scream at the top of my lungs.
Bartlett flinches as she plugs her ears with her fingers and stares at me until I’m finished.
I wait to hear him emerge from the study or maybe even the gym downstairs, but I’m met with silence. I frown, and Bartlett takes her fingers out of her ears as she faces the stove and flips what looks like a pancake.
“They left.”
“Left? Where?” I ask.
“Honeymoon. St. Lucia or maybe it was Bali. I don’t know.” She shrugs.
“Well, when will they be back?” I ask with crossed arms.
“Two months,” Bartlett responds as she takes the pancake out of the pan and slaps it onto a plate before covering it in butter and syrup.
I watch her with scrutiny. My god, she has no style whatsoever, no class, and apparently no consideration for calories.
Wait.
“Two months? Why didn’t he tell me?”
“How should I know, Brenton? I thought daddy’s special little girl would know everything,” she sneers.
Her words grate me like nails on a chalkboard, and it takes everything in me not to physically react to them.
“Cool, so I’m stuck with just you for the whole summer. Awesome,” I scoff.
“Isn’t it?” She snarks as she cuts a piece of pancake and stabs it with her fork.
“Whatever. Just stay the fuck out of my way and I’ll pretend you don’t exist, okay?”
“The best plan I’ve ever heard,” she says as she plops the food into her mouth, speaking as she chews.
Disgusting.
Turning on my heel, I head back towards my room as I call out to her.
“And if you wake me up before eleven again I’ll fucking kill you!”
“I’d like to see you try,” she calls back to me.
Fucking bitch.
* * *
After going to the gym and getting lunch, I decided to go to the spa with Mercy Lewis and Angela Stroughton. I wouldn’t exactly call them my friends because in Salem, no one is really your friend, especially when you aren’t a Legacy. We hang out often, though, and they are semi-tolerable, so…sure, we can use the word friends, I suppose.
“So, how is it going with your new stepsister?” Mercy asks with a wicked smile.
I narrow my eyes at her. Little snake knows exactly how it’s going. She just enjoys reveling in my misery. Maybe frenemy is a more accurate term for her.
“Oh, fabulous.” I mock as an employee comes over to begin my pedicure.
“She seems to keep to herself. I’m sure you’ll forget she’s even there,” Angela says.
So sweet and na?ve. Such a sharp contrast from her big brother. Don’t we all attempt to be, though? At least she’s a Legacy. I mean, her family is. Her father is an Elder, and Jeremy is a Legacy. Women don’t earn titles in the Brethren, but still, better than nothing.
Angela’s brother has a future, power. My brother wastes his life away smoking weed and playing video games. He moved out when he was eighteen and got an apartment across town so Dad couldn’t breathe down his neck every five seconds. It didn’t deter him at first until I turned thirteen. Then his attention shifted, and he saw me as his only chance at having a child worth being proud of. I fucking hate my brother for leaving all the pressure on me.
Mercy’s fingers are flying across her phone as she speaks.
“Your parents are out of town, right?” she asks.
“My father is out of town with his new wife, yes.” I correct. “For two months.”
That pulls her attention as Angela’s mouth parts.
“Oh my god.”
“Yeah,” I say with a shake of my head, leaning my head against the headrest as I close my eyes.
“Well, what better way to celebrate than to throw a party?” Mercy says.
I shake my head again. “Too much work.”
“What is work? I’ll text a few people, and we’ll be set. I’m texting Liam. I can get him to bring Asherrrr,” she taunts, forcing me to pop an eye open.
“What makes you think you have sway over Liam Walcott?” I challenge.
Not only is he a Legacy, but he’s Asher’s bond brother. He’s his right hand man and his best friend. The two are rarely separated; where one goes, the other follows.
“Because he spent all last night and this morning fucking my ass.” She grins as I scoff.
“You’re such a slut.”
Mercy shrugs like the fact doesn’t bother her, because it doesn’t. The Brethren isn’t a large community by any means, and it is extremely looked down upon to date or even consort outside of the society, so we hook up with anyone we can. A lot.
I’ve slept with Liam a few times. He’s fun in bed for sure, and he will happily drown in your pussy if given the opportunity, but he isn’t the one I want, not by a long shot. I’ve wanted Asher Putnam since we were kids. He has always been the prize every girl wants to secure, but fuck he makes it an impossible task. I know he slept with Mercy in the past; he even took Angela’s virginity her freshman year of high school. There aren’t many out there he hasn’t fucked, honestly.
Asher Putnam operates under a very strict no strings attached kind of way. Despite that, when he’s looking to hook up, I’m always his first call, and I know women like Mercy are jealous of that. I understand that it sounds like he’s just using me, and don’t get me wrong, I’m not an idiot. I know he is. Still, I know he feels something for me, whether it’s just favoritism or whatever is fine. At the end of the day, I’ll be the one with his ring on my finger. I’ll be the one he takes to be his wife, and I’ll be the wife to the head of the Brethren one day.
“Fine. Let everyone know, make sure Asher is there, got it?” I say.
“Already on it.” Mercy smiles as she does what she does best.
* * *
I went through outfit after outfit, trying to pick something that would catch Asher’s eyes the best before I settled on a backless little red dress. The material starts just above my ass, showcasing my back dimples that I know he loves. It also has a scoop neckline that shows off my brand new tits, thanks to Dr. Korasik.
Smearing on my signature red lipstick, I give my hair a few tousled curls and apply some shimmery eye shadow that makes my blue eyes practically glow before smiling in the mirror.
Perfect.
When I come downstairs, the party is in full swing. In a matter of an hour, my house went from a white marble and white carpet museum to a summer festival. Literally, I see fire dancers outside by the pool, a DJ set up in the living room and another one in the backyard. Mercy certainly works fast.
I begin pushing through the throngs of people, which is easier said than done, before I finally set my eyes on my goal. Asher, Liam, and a few others are gathered around the firepit out back. Mercy is currently dry humping Liam in his chair. Wait, based on the angle of her dress she might be just fucking him. What did I say? Slut.
Shaking my head at her pathetic self, I put an extra sway in my hips as I approach the group. Angela gives me a small smile and a nod as she talks to Dane Lewis while her brother’s eyes are solely on me. I give him a quick smile, pacifying him before my eyes come back to Asher’s, practically willing him to look at me.
Unfortunately for me, he doesn’t even realize I’m present. Instead, his eyes are focused on some girl dancing before he points to her and curls his finger, beckoning her closer. My smile fades, and my brows dip as the girl eagerly rushes over to Asher, awaiting his next command. He pats his lap, and she practically jumps onto him, perching herself onto his thigh before he grabs her face and begins kissing her.
Hurt pangs in my chest, but I don’t let it deter me. Walking right up to him, I push my tits out a little more as I clear my throat.
“Hey guys, thanks for coming.”
Liam pulls away from Mercy’s mouth long enough to rake his eyes over me, winking before going back to devouring her. Dane nods at me in acknowledgment and Asher just continues making out with that fucking bitch. I feel anger rising inside me, visions of burying my hand into her mousy brown hair and ripping her the fuck off him flash in my head, but I don’t act on it.
Yet.
Instead, I figure reverse psychology might be the way to play things tonight. So, I turn my attention towards the man desperate for it.
“Hi, Jeremy.” I smile.
He practically lights up as he watches me from his seat. Jeremy Stroughton has always had a thing for me, but that little thing has evolved into a massive crush over the last year or so. We’ve never slept together, mainly because he gave off the vibe that he’d be too clingy, which I’m well aware how ironic that is. Maybe a little heavy flirting with Jeremy will wake Asher up and make him realize how desirable I am, how if he doesn’t lock me down soon, I could be swept away. I’ve been too available to him. Maybe I need to play hard to get.
“What do you think of my outfit?” I ask, drawing out my words as I run my hands over my curves.
He sinks his teeth into his lip as he nods.
“Fucking love it.”
I practically preen under his attention as he holds his hand out.
“C’mon, do a spin for me, baby.”
I slip my hand into his, doing a little spin as he speaks.
“Oooo, girl. Now, what are you doing looking this delicious and still not underneath me yet?”
“Keyword there is yet,” I say as I face him, not letting go of his hand.
His eyebrows raise in surprise, but a satisfied grin takes over his face. With a quick yank, he pulls me to his lap, and I end up falling onto it sideways. He smiles down at me as his arm wraps around my waist, and he buries his head into my neck. Inhaling softly, he places a few kisses against my skin.
I moan loudly, even if it is more than a little forced, as I keep my eyes on Asher who is now dragging the mousey bitch against his jeans over and over again.
“Jeremy,” I moan again, giggling for good measure.
“You like that, baby?” he asks, and I’m forced to give him at least a little attention.
Turning my head to face him, I nod as I loop my arms around his neck and begin kissing him. Our tongues tangle together, sloppier than I like, as his hand snakes up my dress. I sigh and moan loudly, grinding myself against his body and pulling a moan from his chest.
I hear Angela excuse herself, and Dane follows along. I don’t really give a fuck if she’s upset or grossed out, though. I’ll leave her brother just how I found him as soon as Asher fucking looks at me.
“Oh, Jeremy. I want you,” I whimper as I toss my head back.
Asher’s eyes open, landing right on me.
Finally .
“I want you more, baby,” Jeremy says as he tears his mouth away from me. “You mind if I steal her for the night, Putnam?”
Asher frowns, his mouth still not moving from the bimbo on his lap as he waves us off. After another second, he finally comes up for air before pushing the girl off his lap. My heart swells with relief. He doesn’t like the idea of me with someone else. He is jealous. I knew he had feelings for me, I just knew?—
In the next second, Asher is pulling out his cock and forcing the girl’s mouth down onto him. I watch in shock for a moment as Asher settles back into the seat and begins fucking the girl’s throat.
“Do whatever you want with her,” Asher says to Jeremy as he closes his eyes and faces the sky.
I feel a crack in my chest as Jeremy chuckles in celebration. His slobbery lips land on my neck once more, but I can’t take it.
“Get off me.” I sneer as I shove him away and climb to my feet.
“Where you going?” Jeremy calls out. “C’mon, baby.”
He fucking wishes. I’m shoving my way through people, doing my best to keep my cool as I finally make it into the house. Somehow there are even more people in here than outside, and right now I just want everyone the fuck out. This party was stupid, this night was stupid, I was fucking stupid. I don’t even know why I try some days; it’s always going to be the same with him. I just?—
Before I can finish my thought, I’m slamming into someone. A pair of hands reach out and catch me, stabilizing me before I fall on my ass and make an already shitty night that much worse. When I look up, I’m caught off guard to see that it’s Bartlett. My eyes move to see our neighbor, Tatiana, under her arm. Jesus, she’s worse than Asher, I swear to fuck.
Bartlett looks at me with a curious gaze before what looks like concern enters her eyes.
“You good?”
For a moment, I want to break. No, I’m not fucking good. Nothing is fucking good. I’m obviously not going to say any of that, though. So, I do what I do best. I turn the bitch scale to an eleven.
“Get your nasty fucking hands off me! I’m not a pussy lover like you,” I spew, forcing several pairs of eyes to land on us.
She doesn’t react, just lets me go with an impassive look as she holds Tatiana just a little closer.
“No, you aren’t. It’s too bad for you. Instead you’re dick whipped over a guy that barely tolerates your existence. Take a look out there, whose throat is his cock down? Spoiler alert, it’s not yours.”
Anger rages inside me, and I don’t even think, I just react. My hand winds back, slapping her across the face as hard as I can. Shockingly, she doesn’t even flinch. For a moment, I question if I even made contact. The reddening of her cheek tells me I definitely did, though.
“Feel better?” Bartlett goads. “You slapped me, and yet Asher Putnam still doesn’t want you. You’re pathetic,” she scoffs with a shake of her head. Tatiana’s hand gently cups her face as she assesses the damage.
Her words are like barbs, stabbing at my every insecurity in front of a room full of people. In my own fucking house. A million warring emotions fill me, and all I can muster up the courage to do is head to my room. Shoving through people, I grab a bottle of tequila in someone’s hand, ripping it away as I lift it to my lips. The sharp taste burns as I continue gulping it down all the way up the stairs.
By the time I make it back to my room, I barely get the door shut before I throw the bottle against the wall and fall to the floor, sobbing. I hate that she’s right. Look at me, I’m beyond pathetic. Sitting here crying myself to sleep over a guy that treats me like shit, fully knowing I’m going to come crawling back for more. I hate myself for it. I hate it here. I hate…everything.