Little Devil Read online

  “Not really,” I mutter, dropping my eyes to play with the yellow strings of my bikini bottoms.

  She perks up at that, suddenly interested in me and what I have to say. “Why not?”

  I shrug and look off to the house on my right, watching my lifelong boyfriend while he makes himself a drink at the kitchen island. He’s got sandy blond hair and bright blue eyes, his navy blue designer swim shorts hanging low on his hips in a way that makes him look hot as hell. He’s gorgeous in a pretty boy type of way, but that doesn’t change the fact that he’s an egotistical dick who thinks he owns me and the ground I walk on.

  He doesn’t own me, and I don’t want him to.

  Not anymore.

  Just as I think it, his eyes hit mine and he narrows them into slits, laughing lightly when my best friend bumps his hip to get him to move out of the way. Penelope flicks her chocolate brown hair over her shoulder and smirks at whatever he’s saying to her, shamelessly moving her eyes over his bare chest and abs. He smirks back at the attention and leans back against the counter beside her, boldly returning the favor despite the fact I’m sitting right here.

  “JJ?”

  “He’s not the same anymore, Mom,” I whisper, hesitating a second before I decide to elaborate. “He’s distant and selfish and he doesn’t care like he used t–”

  “Nonsense,” she cuts in, waving me off as if I’m ridiculous for even thinking such a thing. “That boy’s been the love of your life since before you could walk. You were made for each other, sweetheart.”

  I disagree, but just as I open my mouth to plead my case, she shakes her head and raises a hand, done with me and this conversation, apparently.

  “Go back inside and work it out with him,” she orders, hitting me with a look that screams do as you’re told and smile while you’re at it. “I’ll be home as soon as I can and we’ll have a spa day together, okay?”

  “Mom.”

  “I have to go, JJ,” she sighs. “I’ll call you later.”

  “Okay,” I say weakly, struggling to keep the tears at bay. “Bye, Mom.”

  She hangs up on me and I swallow, pulling my feet out of the water to slide my heels up to my ass. I rest my forearms on my knees and hang my head, silently counting backwards from twenty while I attempt to calm my wounded heart.

  Poor, sad little rich girl.

  How cliché.

  I roll my eyes at the thought and shake it off, reluctantly pushing myself up to walk back inside. I toss my phone down on the kitchen island and open the fridge, ignoring Noah’s judgy little eyes on my ass while I pour myself another soda. I suck my stomach in the way my mom taught me to do when I was nine and turn around, pulling out the bar stool beside him to take a seat.

  “Well..” Penelope draws out, dropping down on my other side to toss a grape into her mouth. “What did she say?”

  “She’s not coming.”

  She sticks her bottom lip out and wraps her arm around my neck, scooting over to pull my head down on her shoulder. “I’m sorry, sweetie.”

  I shrug her off and look up at the monitor in the corner of the room, frowning when I spot the black van pulling up on my driveway. “Who’s that?”

  “Oh, it’s the party people.” Penelope grins, jumping up to hold a hand out to Noah. “You got the cash, babe?”

  My skin crawls at the endearment but I hide it with a sip of my drink, side eyeing him while she skips off through the house to answer my front door. “You’re throwing a party?”

  “Is that a problem?”

  “No, but I wasn’t even supposed to be here tonight,” I remind him, laughing lightly when it hits me. “You knew my mom wouldn’t show up, didn’t you?”

  He sighs at that, slowly turning my chair until I’m forced to face him fully. Instead of answering my question, he dips his head and presses his mouth to mine, squeezing my jaw with his fingers when I make no move to kiss him back.

  “For fuck’s sake, JJ, it’s your birthday,” he hisses, speaking through his teeth. “Can’t you at least pretend to be happy for five fucking minutes instead of bringing everyone else down with you?”

  I smack his hand from my face and he pulls his head back in surprise, looking up over my shoulder when a throat clears from somewhere behind me.

  “The alcohol’s heavy,” Penelope informs him, feigning awkwardness when all she wants to do is laugh. “Can you come help me carry it inside?”

  He nods and looks back to me, brushing a loose strand of hair behind my ear in a way that’s more threatening than sweet. “Go take a shower and fix your hair the way I like it,” he orders. “It looks better when you curl it.”

  I keep my mouth shut and he kisses my forehead, stealing my drink to pour it into the sink on his way out. My eyes burn with unshed tears but I force myself to smile at him, partly because I’m not about to let them see me cry but mostly because I’m Jordyn fucking James, and I have nothing to be sad about.

  3

  Xander

  Aunt Karen takes one look at me and scrunches her nose, blatantly moving her disapproving gaze over me and my form while I jump out of the car I bought just now. My dad said I could get whatever I wanted so I chose Nik’s dream car – a black on black Chevy Camaro with chrome wheels and a badass leather interior. I would’ve bought one before now, but my mom already hates me enough. I didn’t want to piss her off even more by buying something that would remind her of her dead son every time she saw me pull up outside.

  My lazy ass dog refuses to move from the passenger seat so I give him a little tug, laughing lightly when I catch the look of horror on Karen’s face.

  “He’s really good, I swear.”

  “He better be,” she says, walking down the front steps to hand me a set of keys.

  She’s wearing a white formal pantsuit and black heels, her dark brown hair pulled into a flawless bun at the nape of her neck. Her entire demeanour screams don’t fuck with me, and I won’t deny I’m a little bit scared of her. I don’t know her that well considering she and my mom had a huge fight just before she moved to LA to chase her dreams of becoming an actress twenty eight years ago, but what I do know is that she’s a take no shit type of girl who just so happens to be the principal of Lakewood Academy – one of the top private schools in the country and the place I’m about to spend five days a week at for the next seven months.

  “Still not a hugger, huh?” I joke, awkwardly rolling my lips when I realize she doesn’t find me funny.

  “You’re staying in the pool house,” she informs me, straight down to business, as usual. “Clean sheets and towels are stored in the linen closet next to the bathroom. Don’t stay out all night without calling me first and do not break the law. While you’re living under my roof you will clean up after yourself and keep your grades up. I am your principal and your guardian until you graduate this summer, not your maid or your get out of jail free card. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Yes ma’am.”

  Seemingly satisfied with my response, she nods and turns around to walk back inside, leaving me alone to see myself in. I shake my head at her and grab my shit from the trunk, walking around the side of her house to get to the pool house at the back. It’s a modern, one story building with gray stone walls and wooden finishes, a wide set of four steps leading up to the sliding glass doors covering the entire front wall. There’s a huge bed made up on the back wall with two matching nightstands either side of it, two wooden doors that I assume lead to a separate bathroom and the linen closet she mentioned just now, a fully stocked kitchen on my left, and a sunken living room with a corner couch and a flat screen TV on my right.

  Bear immediately jumps up onto the bed to claim his rightful spot and I grin, lifting my suitcase up off the floor to drop it down beside him. I open it up and take out the photo frame I stashed beneath one of my hoodies to keep it safe, carefully running my thumb over the glass covering my brother’s face. This is the last one I took of us together – my arm wrapped around his in
ked neck while he flips me off through the front facing camera on my phone.

  “Damn, boy, you got big.”

  I raise a brow at that, glancing over my shoulder to find Travis standing behind me dressed in a pair of gym shorts and a tight t–shirt. I’ve only met my cousin twice in person – once when our grandmother died when we were seven and once again when Nik died three years ago – but we’ve kept in touch over the years through Instagram and FaceTime and shit.

  “You talkin’ to me or the dog?”

  “The dog, dipshit,” he fires back, stepping closer to bump my fist with his. “They kicked you out, huh?”

  I nod and set my picture down on the nightstand, grabbing a few shirts from my case to hang them up inside the free standing closet on my right.

  “What’d you do this time?”

  “Crashed my teacher’s car.”

  “Of course you did,” he mutters, gesturing to my face with a flick of his wrist. “What happened there?”

  “I fucked this college girl last night and she hit me, then her big brother picked her up and hit me, as well.”

  He snorts and hops up onto the kitchen counter, side eyeing Bear every few seconds like he’s afraid he’s about to jump up and eat him.

  “You can touch him if you want,” I offer, gently scratching the spot beneath his chin. “He won’t bite.”

  “I’m good, thanks.”

  I laugh and continue unpacking my shit, chewing the inside of my cheek when my aunt’s raised voice rings out in the distance. She’s arguing with my uncle, and I don’t miss the words your delinquent nephew and disaster waiting to happen leaving his mouth. An awkward silence stretches between us and Travis clears his throat, shrugging it off like it’s nothing.

  “It’s not you, man,” he says, sighing while he runs a hand through his dark brown hair. “Last night they had a bust up over a broken lightbulb. I swear they pick fights out of thin air just to get a rise out of each other.”

  Their screaming match gets louder and I close the doors, moving for the fridge beside him to grab a couple bottles of water. “At least your parents still care enough to argue,” I mutter, passing him one before I sit down to uncap my own. “Mine don’t even talk to each other anymore.”

  He nods, looking over at the picture on my nightstand, and I can tell he wants to say something about Nik. He doesn’t, of course, but fuck, I wish he would. I wish people would grow some fucking balls and stop treating my brother’s name like it’s a dirty curse word set out to offend, but I’m not naïve enough to believe that’s about to happen any time soon.

  Death makes people uncomfortable.

  That’s just the way it is.

  “You wanna stay in and order a pizza?” he asks, tipping his chin at the big screen in the corner. “Grab some beers and watch a movie or some shit?”

  I frown at that, pulling my head back to emphasise my outrage. “It’s Saturday, Trav.”

  “Yeah, so?”

  “So where’s the party at?”

  h

  I pull up outside some big ass mansion a little while later and Travis releases the breath he’s been holding, only just letting go of the oh shit handle to drop his head back on the seat. “I’m never getting in a car with you again.”

  I laugh at him and kill the ignition, jumping out of the driver’s seat to fall in line beside him. “Who the hell lives here?” I ask, side eyeing the six square shaped pillars out front and the full on water fountain set up in the middle of the driveway. “The president?”

  “Don’t be a dick,” he chuckles, pushing the front door open to let himself inside. “Her name’s Jordyn but we call her JJ. She’s Elizabeth James’ daughter.”

  I nod and look around, frowning when he eyes me like he’s expecting a bigger reaction than my non existent one. “What?”

  “Elizabeth James, Xan,” he draws out, walking me across the massive entryway and through to the kitchen. “The designer chick with all the fur coats and the dresses and the shoes? That’s who lives here.”

  “Fuck off.”

  “I’m dead serious,” he laughs, grabbing two shot glasses and a bottle of vodka from the island. “I’ve known them since kindergarten.”

  Well, shit.

  He pours our drinks and I look around again, confused and a little put out by the vibe in here. The high school kids where I’m from spend their weekends on stained couches in grungy basements, smoking weed and licking cocaine from their fingertips while getting their dicks sucked by hot girls who have no problem getting their tits out for all to see.

  These people don’t play like that.

  This house is immaculate and white and.. sterile. No one’s smoking inside or yelling or breaking shit. No one’s throwing punches in a fit of drunken rage or fucking on the staircase. Instead they’re all wearing designer dresses and clean shirts, drinking expensive liquor from pink plastic cups and grinding on each other in a way that’s more hot than disgusting.

  “Is it always like this?”

  “Pretty much, yeah.” Travis nods, passing me a shot glass to knock it with his.

  We throw them back and he tilts his head for me to follow him, easily moving through this maze of a house like he’s been here a thousand times before. He introduces me to a colourful looking guy with blonde hair and I bump his fist, raising a brow when he moves his eyes over my form like he’s fixing to eat me.

  “Kian,” Travis says, speaking through his teeth.

  “What?”

  “He’s not gay.”

  “Really?” He frowns, looking genuinely confused by that. “Honey, you look a little gay.”

  “Yeah, I get that a lot.”

  “I’ll bet,” he muses, still checking me out despite the solid glare on the side of his face.

  I hide a grin and run a hand over the back of my neck, looking up at the curved staircase when a flash of wavy blonde hair steals my attention.

  “That’s JJ,” Travis informs me, laughing lightly when he catches the look on my face.

  He carries on talking but I don’t hear him because fuck me, Jordyn James is fine. She’s got long hair cut down to the curve of her back and a body built for sin, her tiny waist and round ass wrapped up in a black strapless dress I wouldn’t mind peeling off with my teeth. Her hips sway with every step she takes and she smiles politely at the group of girls at the bottom, but I don’t miss the way it looks a little.. forced.

  She belongs in a place like this the same way sharks belong in the ocean – that much is clear – but she also looks like she’d rather be a million miles away.

  Bored.

  Happy but not happy.

  Here but not here.

  “Don’t even think about it, Xan,” Travis warns, but it’s a little too late for that.

  I’m already thinking about it, picturing myself shoving her down on her back, having her look up at me from beneath those thick lashes of hers while I push her dress up over her ass and sink my cock into her pussy.

  “Dude, she’s got a boyfriend,” Travis says, tipping his chin at yet another blond guy who looks like a pretty boy douchebag. “That’s Noah Campbell, the mayor’s son. They’ve been together since they were kids.”

  “Is that right?” I mutter, unable to take my eyes off her while Noah steps up to block her path at the bottom of the stairs.

  He glares at her and I glare at him, watching him while he hisses words out through his teeth and waves a hand over her form like there’s something wrong with her.

  There’s nothing wrong with her, the stupid fucker.

  She’s fucking flawless.

  “Xan, she’s taken,” my cousin stresses. “And even if she wasn’t, she’s not that type of girl. She’d never go for someone like you.”

  “The fuck’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You know exactly what it means,” he laughs, clapping a hand down on my shoulder to guide me away from her. “You’re the guy who’ll fuck her once and ruin her life just to ignore her fo
r the rest of yours.”

  I smirk and slide my eyes back to the princess, still picturing the way those sexy black heels are gonna look wrapped around my waist. “Hey, Trav?”

  “What?”

  “Do you dare me?”

  He shakes his head at that, knowing I’ll do pretty much anything I’m told when it comes to the game. It’s the reason for all this purple shit in my hair and the ink covering my skin and the piercings on my body.

  It’s the reason my brother is dead.

  “You’re a real piece of shit sometimes, you know that?”

  I nod and pour myself another drink at the kitchen island, looking over again to find Jordyn turning away from Noah to walk back upstairs. Some dark haired girl appears at his side a few seconds later and I knock Travis’ arm with my elbow, tipping my chin at them.

  “Who’s the girl?”

  “Penelope Sanchez,” he answers. “JJ’s best friend.”

  I raise a brow at that, not missing the way the so called best friend moves in further to rest a hand on Noah’s chest. He leans over to say something in her ear and I click my tongue at him, shamelessly grinning to myself while I lean back against the counter to neck my shot.

  This’ll be easier than I thought.

  4

  Jordyn

  Go change, he says.

  This dress makes you look like a slut, he says.

  I slam my bedroom doors behind me and grit my teeth, folding my arms behind my back to work the zipper down. It gets stuck three times where I’m so agitated with myself, but I finally get the stupid dress off and toss it into the corner of my closet, walking over to the rail on the back wall to grab the white one he demanded I wear instead.

  You’re asking for it, he says.

  What an asshole.

  I should go down there and tell him to go fuck himself, tell him I’m no one’s goddamn property and I can wear whatever the hell I want, fuck him and his opinion.

  I don’t do that, though.

  Instead I pull on the outfit he chose for me and switch my heels out for a strappy nude pair, turning around to face the free standing mirror set up in the corner. It’s a skin tight, long sleeved dress with a cleavage cut out showing the top halves of my breasts and a little bit of thigh, but not too much. Sexy but elegant, my mother called it when she designed it for me a few weeks ago.