Mean Boy Read online

  Mean Boy

  Darkest Hearts Book 1

  C.T. Rhames

  Copyright © 2019 by C.T. Rhames. All Rights Reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of very brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  About The Author

  Books By C.T. Rhames

  Chapter 1

  My first day in a new school and I was late.

  In my defense, it was mostly because I had no idea how the buses worked here, but even so, it sucked. The guard at the door waved me inside and I trudged to the secretary’s office, already drenched from the rain outside.

  “Oh my, you look a little wet,” the secretary smiled at me. “How can I help you?”

  “I’m starting school here today.”

  “Okay, what’s your name?”

  “Cursi Taylor.”

  She tapped away on the computer for a minute, frowning. “No Taylor in my system, are you sure you were registered?”

  “Oh, try Talbot.” I shook my head. “My dad registered me and he probably used his name.” A name I hadn’t used since I was four. A name I thought I’d left behind for a lifetime.

  “Ah, there you are. Cursi Talbot.” She smiled brightly. “Just have a seat and we’ll have someone take you to your class when the first period is over.”

  I settled into one of the scratchy grey chairs that lined the office and waited. Outside, the rain continued to pour down. The entire state seemed grey, like it never stopped raining here. So different from sunny California.

  The bell rang and I heard the sound of hundreds of footsteps out in the hall. The secretary didn’t even look up. I wondered if I was supposed to go out or stay sitting.

  Finally, some blonde haired girl came in, looking bored. She glanced at me and leaned over the desk to talk quietly with the secretary. Then she turned to me and pasted on a bright, fake smile.

  “Hi, Cursi, I’m Emma. I’m going to be your student liaison today. Come on and I’ll show you around.” She flipped her hair over her shoulder, looking like she was interested in anything but helping me find my way around this maze of a school.

  She was bubbly in a way that I’ll never be. It kind of made me want to punch her in the face.

  Emma bounced her way through the tour, rapidly pointing out all the different rooms and classes. She finished up at the entrance to my English class. “This is where you’ll be next,” she said. Then the bell rings and the students rush into the halls. Emma is swept away with them and I’m left alone in a crowd.

  Once the rush of students trickled down, I stepped into the classroom and found the teacher wiping down the whiteboard. She turned and smiles at me. “You’re new?”

  “Yeah, Cursi Tay-Talbot.”

  “I’m Miss Ringlen. Have a seat.”

  I picked a seat at the back of the classroom, in the far corner. It felt safer to be in a corner.

  From my vantage point, I watched students filter into the room. Very few of them looked at me and when they did, it’s with mild curiosity, nothing more. I could already tell I wasn’t going to be making many friends around here.

  Then he walked through the door.

  He was gorgeous. Magazine front cover gorgeous. Muscled and hard, with chiseled cheekbones and a jaw that could cut glass. His icy blue eyes were so pale they looked like actual ice. As soon as he stepped into the room, those eyes found mine and there was a sizzle so strong I could have sworn it was audible.

  He strode toward me and I felt everything else fading away. There was no classroom, no teacher. Just those cold, pale eyes, fixated on mine.

  I stared back at him, but his eyes didn’t leave mine. Most people would look away. Not this boy.

  “Move.” His voice was deeper than any high school boy’s voice should be, rough and edged with the promise of something . . . something I couldn’t even begin to comprehend.

  “I was here first,” I said, surprised to find coherent words coming out of my mouth after he just knocked my brain for a loop.

  He leaned closer, making himself more threatening. He glared at me with a hatred that had no reason to be on that beautiful face. “This is my spot. Move.”

  “No.” I can’t say why I felt the need to stand up against him. Maybe it was the need to prove myself in my new school. Maybe it was a death wish. Who knows.

  His eyes flashed with anger and his facial features tightened ever so slightly. Somehow it made him even hotter.

  “I won’t say it again. Move.”

  “I won’t say it again. No.” I lifted my chin, staring into those clear eyes, feeling like I was going to tumble right into them and lose myself forever inside this guy’s head.

  “Ethan, take the seat in front of Cursi, please.” Miss Ringlen said.

  Ethan. It’s a name that suits him, from his blond hair to his scuffed boots.

  He stared me down for a long minute. I lifted my chin further and my hair fell off my face.

  His eyes moved to the scar I so carefully hide and I caught a flash of interest in his eyes. Then he abruptly whirled and threw himself into the seat in front of me. The spell was broken as soon as his eyes left mine and I sucked in a breath that I didn’t know I’d been holding.

  It’s then that I realized everyone was staring at me with wide eyes, boys and girls alike. I tipped my head forward, letting the curtain of dark, mouse brown hair fall back over my face.

  I turned toward the front of the class, silently cursing Ethan for revealing me like that on my first day. I glared at the back of his head until I was sure he must feel my eyes burning into his closely cropped hair. But he didn’t turn around.

  Chapter 2

  At lunch, I slid into a chair at an empty table, but it took only moments before a plump girl with shocking green eyes and rosebud lips sat down across from me.

  “You said no to Ethan Grant.” She leaned forward, looking excited. “How?”

  “What are you talking about?” I peeled the top off my yogurt and set the little tub neatly in the center of my tray. “I just said no. It’s not that hard.”

  “No one says no to Ethan.” She shook her head in amazement and I wondered if I’d landed in some alternate universe.

  “Why not?”

  “You just don’t.” She shrugged. “No one does. Not even the teachers.”

  “He’s not royalty.”

  “Oh, but he is. Around here, anyway. His dad is Malcolm Grant, of Grant Enterprises.”

  This time it was my turn to shrug.

  The girl stared at me, her cute mouth hanging open. “Grant Enterprises, the company that owns just about everything in this town?”

  “Haven’t heard of them.” I dipped my spoon in my yogurt and licked the rich creaminess off slowly. “I’m new in town, remember?”

  “Well, you might want to educate yourself, because you just messed with Malcolm Grant’s youngest son.”

  “How many are there?” I asked curiously.

  “Three. Jason, Adam, and
Ethan. They’re all ruthless like their father, so you should really be careful.” She looked nervously around the room. “They’ve done some pretty horrible things, I’ve heard.”

  She’d heard. I almost laughed. Unsubstantiated rumors most likely. The kind that I would rather avoid myself.

  “I’ll make a note of it.” I didn’t really care, though. Some rich kid thought he owned everything and everyone because his dad was some hot shot? That didn’t mean I had to bow down to him.

  “I’m Rosa, by the way.” The girl stuck her hand out and I shook it. “Cursi.”

  “I know. I mean, the whole school knows your name already. You’re Cursi, the girl who said no to Ethan.”

  So much for my worry about my scar. Apparently the word no had caught everyone’s attention instead. I felt a rush of relief. Maybe no one apart from Ethan had even noticed. One could hope. I didn’t want a horrific reminder of my past becoming what I was known for here. If I could wipe the scar off my face, I would.

  I made it through the rest of the day without any real incident. No one talked to me, apart from Rosa. Everyone just talked about me. I could hear my name in their whispers, feel their eyes on me.

  When the last bell rang, I trudged outside, already scanning the bus schedule on my phone, trying to figure out how to get back home. I was so busy scowling at my phone that I ran right into a strong, broad chest.

  Cruel fingers gripped my shoulders and I nearly dropped the phone. Looking up, I met those ice cold eyes again. He dug those fingers harder into my shoulders, his eyes piercing mine.

  When my nostrils flared with the pain, his pupils dilated, like he was getting high from hurting me. Despite the pain he was inflicting, I felt sparks of electricity shooting out of his fingers and sparking through me in a strangely exciting way.

  I wrenched out of his grasp. “Leave me alone.”

  His lips twitched. “I don’t think so.”

  “You better,” I warned.

  “Or what?” He sounded genuinely curious as he reached out and lifted my hair, his eyes latching hungrily onto the scar that ran down my face.

  “Stop it!” I slapped his hand away.

  “Why?”

  “Because you can’t just go around touching people without permission,” I grated out.

  “I can.” He reached out again and slid his hand under my hair, running a warm, rough fingertip along the raised ridge of the scar. The skin was still sensitive and his touch sent sparks shooting through my body.

  “Stop.” I stepped backwards and bumped into someone else, who gave me a shove and landed me right back against Ethan’s strong chest.

  “You’re the one running into me,” he pointed out.

  “Sorry.” The words fell from my mouth automatically and I darted around him and headed for the bus stop. Though he made my skin crawl, the sparks he’d trailed down my face with his touch had set me on fire and I was still burning long after I reached the bus stop.

  After waiting for the wrong bus for an hour, I finally made it home. At least, what passed for home right now. A run down house on the edge of a cliff, overlooking the ocean.

  Honestly, the house wasn’t that bad. It had a great location, and inside was fine. The outside lacked paint and the lawn was overgrown. The house looked out of place among the mansions that spread up and down the coast, but my father had told me he’d inherited the house and hadn’t had much time to do anything yet.

  He wasn’t home and I was glad. It had been an awkward ride home last night, with the stranger who made up half of my genes.

  Now, I walked through the house, trying to figure out who this man was. There were no pictures on the walls, nothing sitting on the mantel. There weren’t even curtains in the windows. The sofas were nice leather ones, but there were no side tables or lamps. It was like he’d just stumbled onto the house and bought the very basics.

  “You need a woman,” I muttered aloud. Apparently, my father was a very successful man who ran an architecture company. You’d never know it from his house.

  I went upstairs and stood outside his bedroom door. The inner sanctum was bound to show something else. Finally, I pushed it open and peeked inside.

  My father’s bedroom was plain like the rest of the house. Hardwood floors like the rooms downstairs, a king size bed with a dark blue comforter and two pillows. A dresser that held a glass of water, a clock, and a bedside table with a phone charging station sitting on it. There was nothing else visible.

  I crossed the room, feeling a little guilty, but curious. I pulled open the nightstand drawer and found it neatly ordered. There were condoms, a few pens and a pad of paper, plus a very old photograph of me as a baby. In it, my father was holding me and smiling and I was staring grimly at the camera, like I’d already seen what life had to offer. I flipped it over. My mother’s handwriting was scrawled across the back.

  “Cursi and Daddy,” it said. The familiar loops and swoops of her writing brought tears to my eyes. I’d never see her write another note. The pain unexpectedly rose in my chest, suffocating me and making me gasp for air.

  I carefully replaced the photo in the drawer and closed it, then went across the hall to my room. My father had decorated it before I arrived. He obviously had no idea what I was like . . . the walls had been painted a sunny yellow and the furniture was all white, except the cotton candy pink comforter with big flowers that covered the bed and the matching sheets.

  Sitting on the edge of my bed, I tried to take deep breaths like the therapist had told me to. The pain cut deep and I sucked in air, trying desperately to slow my breathing.

  Nausea welled up in my throat, the yogurt I’d had for lunch threatening to escape. My head spun and I had to close my eyes against the dizziness.

  It felt like an eternity before my breathing slowed again and my heart went back to beating in its normal rhythm. I crossed the room and opened the sliding door to the balcony. It was the one thing I liked about the room. The personal balcony that overlooked the sea.

  The ocean was grey and choppy and the grey sky seemed to blend right into it. Even the rocky beach below was grey. I missed sunny beaches.

  As if on cue, it started to rain and I went back inside, shutting the door and curling up on my bed to listen to music, feeling the cold dampness of this place seeping into my bones.

  Chapter 3

  “Cursi?” My father’s voice woke me and I sat up abruptly, my earbuds falling onto the bed, tinny music issuing from them.

  “Yeah?”

  “I’m heading in to work if you want a ride to school?”

  I shook my head to clear the cobwebs and looked at the clock. It was morning. Somehow, I’d slept right through the night and apparently missed my father coming home.

  “I’ll be down in a minute.”

  As soon as his footsteps retreated, I ran around getting ready, throwing on a fresh shirt and dragging a brush through my hair. I put on a little mascara before grabbing my backpack and running downstairs.

  My father stood in the hallway by the front door, dressed in a suit and looking tall and forbidding.

  “Sorry I slept last night,” I said, following him out the door to his car, a gleaming black Range Rover.

  “You probably needed it.” He started the car up and we drove down the long driveway that curved out to the main road. “How is school?”

  “It’s fine.”

  It was awkward sitting there with this stranger, trying to make small talk.

  “You’re not too lonely in the house?”

  “No, not at all.” I was, but I wasn’t going to tell him that.

  “Okay, good.” He drove in silence until we got to the school, then he pulled out his wallet. “I have to go on a business trip and I won’t be back until next Monday. Here’s some money, you can get groceries, take a taxi home, and order pizza or whatever.”

  “Okay. Thanks.” I took the money he offered, feeling my stomach clench at the thought of being alone for nearly a week in
that house.

  “You have my number, so if anything happens, you can call me.”

  “I will.”

  I got out of the car and he drove away, leaving me feeling bereft. There really wasn’t anyone left for me. I was just an unwanted intrusion, a responsibility thrust upon him, for my father. I was truly alone in this cruel world and it was obvious I couldn’t even depend on my own flesh and blood to help me.

  Schooling my face to keep from crying, I marched toward the school.

  Ethan was waiting by the steps. His cold eyes scanned me and then he stepped out to block my path.

  “What do you want?” I muttered. I was not in the mood to deal with this.

  “Skip school today,” he told me. It was a command, not a suggestion.

  “Screw you. I don’t have to do anything.”

  “Skip. Come with me and I’ll show you something special.”

  “Sorry to break it to you, but your dick isn’t that special,” I snapped.

  I pushed past him and he grabbed my arm in that bruising grip of his. His other hand went to my chin, holding me tightly and forcing my head up to look at him. His eyes held a mixture of anger and curiosity.

  “Why won’t you do what I say?”

  “Why should I?”

  “Because I say so.” His lips twitched.

  “Oh, right, I forgot, you’re fucking royalty around here. Well, I’m not from around here and I don’t appreciate being manhandled."

  I brought my knee up fast and hard, but he twisted just in time to avoid a direct hit to the family jewels. His eyes darkened and his nostrils flared.

  “I wouldn’t try that again if I were you.”

  “And I wouldn’t grab me again if I were you,” I retorted. “Let go of me.”

  To my surprise, he did, but not before he stroked my hair back, tucking it behind my ears, his eyes feasting on the scar. Then he let go of my arm and I pushed by, quickly arranging my hair to hide the scar again.

  What was his deal? I was already shaken and I hadn’t even stepped inside the school yet. But part of me wondered what he’d had in mind when he asked me to ditch school. What would happen if I said yes?