Page 1 of Lords Of Ruin

PROLOGUE

Don't say you wouldn't do the same thing. If your father was drowning in debt from your hospital bills, I know you would also find yourself standing naked before three gloriously beautiful guys with a proposition and a check for one hundred thousand dollars.

Trust me, no one in my situation would turn that cash away, no matter how proud they are. But in this case, you’re me, and your pride left you when you saw the foreclosure notice on your front door.

Your morals disappeared when you saw your giant teddy bear of a father crying as he held the only items you have left of your mother. You became fearlessly stupid when you heard him contemplate in hush whispers to your Aunt Nikki whether or not to sell your mother’s engagement ring to cover a couple of nights in a motel.

When you're desperate to protect the only person in this world you love and have no other options, you'll do whatever it takes,even if it means selling your soul to three guys who despise you more than anything, just like I did.

1

WILLOW

“This is a stupid idea, Will,” Jasmine mutters, fixing her mascara in the rearview mirror.

“Never saidthis was a smart idea; I just said it was an idea.” I mess around with the faux septum ring in my nose.

Now that I’m eighteen,I want a real septum piercing, but Dad won’t let me in case I get an infection. I have had this new heart in my chest for sixteen months, and most heart transplants are considered a success after four months, but my body can reject this heart at any time. I will never truly be out of the woods. This heart saved me, but it will haunt me for the rest of my life.

“You wantto steal from the King, Willow.” Jasmine enunciates every syllable in my name, and I flinch, looking away from her and at my reflection.

My black hairwith washed-out pink tips falls in loose curls around my shoulders, and my smokey eye makeup brings outthe green in my hazel eyes. My skin has lost most of its vibrant complexion, and I am just getting some of my curves back after barely eating during my two years of hospitalization.

Jasmine’s voicebreaks me out of the trance I’m in. She cocks her head at me as if to emphasize how stupid of an idea it is. “We’re going to get killed.”

I roll my eyes.“No, we won’t.”

“Okay,so what’s the plan, superstar? Are we just going to waltz up into the King of Thornhaven's place and enter like it’s nothing when we weren’t invited, and you're here to steal?”

I shrug,“He won’t miss anything I take, and we look good. They aren’t going to turn away two hot girls.”

“Honey,there are like hundreds of hot girls walking up to the party right now.”

I turnto look out the window at all the partygoers strutting up the driveway and into the 800 acres of the Beaumont estate for Vincent Beaumont’s annual and last ABC party -- Anything But Clothes -- Birthday party.

There is a group of guys standing shirtless, displaying their toned and chiseled bodies. Some dressed in duct tape, plastic bags, and strategically placed cardboard pieces, while others have wrapped Saran Wrap around their torsos, leaving little to the imagination, or just some duct tape with a box covering their private areas, exposing the rest.

The girls, on the other hand, take it to the next level. Their outfits are works of art: newspaper dresses and bubble wrap that perfectly hug every curve. One girl confidently walks by in an ensemble made entirely of silk ribbons that barely hold together, leaving little to the imagination. Another boldly rocks a patchwork design of neon post-it notes, held together by body glue, revealing her long legs and smooth shoulders.

I am wearing four boxes of cereal cut up into a tube top stuck so close to my body the tape nips at me, a micro skirt that is so small my ass falls out of it, and my platform white leather boots. I just hope the guard at the front, who is making sure everyone is following the strict anything but clothes rule, doesn’t make me take off my underwear. Jasmine doesn’t want to be here and sports a pair of black Converse and a black trash bag with three holes: one for her head and two for her arms. Her blonde mohawk has red highlights today.

“Look, I’ll walk confidently, and you’ll walk in with that glare you have permanently on your face, and boom! No one will turn us away, okay?” I nod at her before taking a deep breath and pushing the car’s passenger side door open. My sparkly silver purse is swinging on my arm.

Jasmine quickly follows me, pulling on my elbow to whisper in my ear. “Did I forget to mention that Damien Sterling hates your fucking guts? Wait, in fact, all of the Chessmen hate you: The King. The Knight, even the fucking Rook. They all hate you.”

“I thought best friends were supposed to be supportive?” I roll my eyes, pulling her forward towards the giant golden doors.

Jasmine isn’t wrong; they all hate me.

Vincent Beaumont, also known as the King of Thornhaven, is the heir to this massive estate and finance genius in his own right. He has black hair that is always styled perfectly, piercing blue eyes that see into my soul, and a tailored school uniform that fits him like a glove.

Juan “Cast” Castillo, the Rook, is said to have ties to the cartel, but you wouldn’t know he was crazy unless you saw him like I did. To everyone else, he is the silly class clown with messy, curly brown hair and a lazy smile that soaks panties and makes hearts do backflips. To me, he is a sadist who would love nothing more than to break me and happily lick the tears off my face.

But the one that really hates me and would love to see me fucking dead is the Knight, Damien Sterling. He isn’t as rich as the other two; in fact, his mother worked as a maid for the Beaumonts and the Castillos, and he met Juan and Vincent while he tagged along with his mother as she worked for them over the weekends.

He shares a bond with the Chessmen through their mutual affection for Rosemary Sterling. Despite their reputation for not caring about anyone or anything, I know they loved Rosemary dearly. It was evident in their actions when she was diagnosed with cancer; they spared no expense and visited her every day.

When my myocarditis was so bad I couldn’t leave the hospital, and everyone said I was a heart attack away from death, I would hang out with Rosemary in the hospital garden. She would give me her cherry jello and hug me tightly when no one else would in fear of breaking me. Her heart overflowed with kindness, making it almost overwhelming to be around her.

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