Page 6 of Chaos at Westbrook High

“I don’t know,” Callie answers, laughing lightly when I narrow my eyes suspiciously. “I really don’t know, fuck boy. I never asked.”

Fucking fuck boy.

Maybe that’s why it seemed like she’d rather die than waste her time talking to me. She’s probably heard all about my antics, and she’s decided I’m not worth the time of day.

Fuck, I’m not used to this.

I huff out a breath and fall back in my seat, sulking while I stare at the busy girl on the other side of the room. I’m sure she can feel my eyes on her, but she doesn’t look at me while she bags a cookie for the guy in front of her, a small smile on her face as she listens to whatever he’s saying to her. I have the strangest urge to punch him.

I see it now. This cute little coffee shop down the street with its homey, bookish vibe and its delicious coffee… She’s what’s so special about it.

She’s the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.

And she’s mine.

Chapter 2

HAILEY

Present

Hiding around 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?”

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