Page 8 of Reckless at Westbrook High

Chapter Three

Levi

I hate this fuckin’ place.

My hand flexes on the steering wheel of my black Audi R8 and I remove my thumb from the scanner, hitting the gas to drive through the iron gates towards the big ass mansion at the end of the driveway. My parents’ so called home sits right on the edge of the water, about a half a mile from Ryan’s house and a couple miles from Kingston Palace at the other end of the beach. It’s all high stone walls with black wooden finishes, three stories and thirteen bedrooms, yet the entire place is left untouched for at least six months out of the year.

Empty.

Lifeless.

Meaningless.

I don’t have a single happy memory here. As far back as I can remember, my parents have been nothing but distant and cold. I was raised by spineless nannies and scary motherfuckers dressed in black suits who were ordered to protect me with guns rather than warmth and love.

Ryan’s dad was the one who taught me how to ride a bike when I was five, how to drive on the beach when I was thirteen, how to pick up girls when I was fifteen – whatever good that did – and Ryan’s mom takes care of me like I’m one of her own, always makes sure I have a home cooked meal and a warm bed to sleep in whenever I need it.

They’re the closest thing I have to family.

Killian and Joyce Matthews are less than strangers to me, and just the thought of being here with them makes my skin crawl with disgust and self hate.

They’re not supposed to be here.

Last I heard, he was taking her to New York for the grand opening of his latest business venture.

I shake my head at the thought and climb out of the car, grabbing my case from the trunk before I head up the steps towards the front door.

Everything is fake.

It’s all for show.

A life built from lies, greed, and a helluva lot of blood money.

To anyone on the outside looking in, my father’s a respected businessman and the proud owner of a few dozen casinos and nightclubs scattered across the country. That might be true in a sense, but it’s not the whole story. On the inside, he’s a paranoid, psychotic prick with the temper of the devil himself and my mother chooses to look the other way because it’s easier than the alternative. She knows damn well what kind of monster she sleeps next to every night, but she allows it because she enjoys the money, the cars, the private jets, the month long vacations and all the other shit that comes with being the boss man’s wife.

And me?

I’m a disappointment, a failure and a burden that’s become more trouble than I’m worth.

All because I refuse to follow.

Three years ago, my father and his best friend took me out on one of their jobs, said it was time to teach me the family business and show me the ropes. I was fifteen, a clueless fucking kid, and they made me watch that shit, kicked my ass when I tried to help her and fucked her harder when I begged them to stop.

That was without a doubt the worst night of my life, but it’s also the night I made a promise to a stranger I had no business protecting.

And it’s a motherfucking promise I intend to keep.

I slip through the front door as quietly as possible, hoping I can sneak upstairs to grab some fresh clothes and get the fuck out before they even realize I’m here, but I already know that’s pointless. Armed guards and security cameras are hidden in every corner of this place, meaning he already knows I’m here.

“Levi.”

A cold chill travels up my spine at the sound of his voice and I stop where I stand, turning around to find my father standing behind me in the middle of the stone archway that leads to the office on the west side of the house. Less than ten feet away from me, he’s dressed in a black and gray designer suit with his dark blond hair slicked back over his head, and I don’t miss the way his eyes flare with a clear mix of disappointment and rage.

“You let her marry him.”

I laugh lightly at that, leaning back against the side table behind me because I’m not stupid enough to leave his men at my back. “I didn’t let her do shit.”

“Watch the attitude, idiot,” he seethes, speaking through his teeth. “She’s supposed to be yours.”

---