Everyone knows Trent fucks around on me, but provided he’s discreet, it’s permitted.
Drew is engaged too, but he treats his fiancée with respect, while Charlie doesn’t lower himself to bedding high school girls. However, if they wanted to whore themselves out whenever they felt like it, they’d get pats on the back.
Jane and I can barely piss without someone breathing down our necks.
Jane Ford is my best friend—my only friend—and she’s also Drew’s intended.
My twin and I are both destined for arranged marriages once we graduate a few weeks after our eighteenth birthday, thanks to the “business” deals our father made with the other elite patriarchs.
Trent rubbing my nose in it is not considered gentlemanly.
Mostly, I don’t care.
But Rochelle grates on my nerves. Making sly digs in contravention of the code. Shooting me filthy looks when the guys aren’t watching. Playing juvenile pranks, like stuffing stupid shit in my locker. Thinking she’s someone important because Trent screws her sometimes. But she comes in handy, occasionally.
Like now.
If Trent thinks I’ll change my mind because he intends to fuck my enemy, he’s another think coming. “Knock yourself out, stud,” I say, smiling pleasantly at him. “And make sure you wrap it before you tap it. Wouldn’t want you to catch an STD.”
Trent throws back his head, laughing. “Jealous much?”
No. Definitely not.
He grabs hold of my arm, yanking me into his hard body. “I’ll ditch the bitch. Just spread those pretty legs nice and wide, and let me fill you up.” He nips at my lower lip, dragging it between his teeth, drawing blood.
“I will never voluntarily have sex with you.” I attempt to wrestle out of his arms, but it’s futile because he’s way too strong. He could overpower me easily, and it’s happened too regularly to count. “You repulse me.” I glare at him, watching his nostrils flaring as he grips my upper arms tight. “You’ll have to force yourself on me if you want any because I will never make it easy for you.”
His fingers dig into my flesh, hurting me, but I refuse to cry out. To show any signs of weakness. “You say that like it turns me off.” He jabs my stomach with his hard-on while one hand slides down to cup my ass. “Like it would stop me.” His finger prods the crack of my ass through my clothes, and I flinch. “Hate sex is the best.” His mouth crashes down on mine, and I press my lips together, denying him access, refusing to kiss him back. His kiss turns vicious, his mouth punishing, as he bites my lips, drawing more blood, but I don’t back down.
I’m used to his game.
When he pulls back, his eyes almost black with fury, he grabs my crotch, squeezing hard, and pain slices through my core. “This is mine. And I’ll have you. I’ll rip you apart, tear you to pieces until your resistance is futile.” He shoves me away with such force I lose my balance and tumble to the ground.
He may well deliver on that threat when he finds out I’m not untouched, but I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.
“What the fuck, man?” Drew barges into my bedroom, shoving Trent in the chest, his handsome face red with rage. “How many fucking times do I have to tell you?!” he hollers, extending his arm and helping me to my feet. My twin tucks me beside him in a protective stance, scowling at the blood coating my lips. “Quit this shit, or we’re done, Trent. I fucking mean it this time.”
Trent slants an amused grin in Drew’s direction. “You say that like you’ve any choice in the matter. We’re in this for life. You’re stuck with me, whether you and your bitch of a sister like it.”
“You can’t speak to Abby like that. And I won’t let you treat her like this.”
Trent squares up to Drew. “She’s mine to do with as I please. Butt the fuck out. I don’t tell you what to do with Jane.”
“Because I treat Jane with respect,” Drew retorts, dragging a hand through his dark brown hair.
Trent snorts. “You’re so fucking pussy-whipped. Why you want to tie yourself to the same pussy for life is beyond me.” Trent slaps him on the back, shaking his head. “You should pound as many chicks as you can before you settle down.”
“Ugh.” I step in front of the warring boys. “You’re gross. They love each other, that’s why.” I know it’s a foreign concept to him, but I hate how superior he acts around my brother. Like he deserves some life medal for being a player. “Go, Trent.” I push him toward the door. “Go to that skank and fuck her up the ass. See if I care.”
“You’re going to Rochelle’s?” Drew queries, raising a brow.
“Your sister won’t spread her legs, as usual, and I’m all fired up.” He winks at me. “Lucky for Rochelle.”
“We had an agreement,” Drew protests, and it’s the first I’ve heard of it. “And you’re already breaking it.”
“You decided I should cut Rochelle loose. I didn’t voice an opinion either way.” He saunters toward the door, and a layer of tension lifts from my shoulders. “Convince your precious sister to put out, and I’ll consider it,” he tosses over his shoulder, before leaving, the noise of his shoes echoing in the wide hallway as he walks away.
Drew slowly turns around, inspecting me quickly. “Did he hurt you anyplace else?” he asks, pulling a handkerchief out of his dress pants and gently dabbing at my lip.
The guys were at some function in the gentleman’s club downtown with their respective fathers. Hence why Drew is dressed like he’s attending a funeral. And why Trent is wasted. I hate the way women are treated within the elite social circles, but there are times I’m glad we’re excluded from things.
I harrumph. “You have to ask?” I push the short sleeves of my dress up to my shoulders, skimming a finger over the bruising already blossoming on my upper arms.
Trent never leaves a mark in a visible place.
Appearances and all.
That’s something else he has in common with my father. That and the obvious shared psycho gene. Thankfully, Drew seems to have escaped that trait, although he’s as arrogant and power-obsessed as Daddy Dearest, so he definitely inherited some of his DNA.
I like to believe there’s more of Mom in me.
Drew rubs a tense-looking spot between his brows. “He’s on edge because of this upcoming trip.”
The guys are leaving next weekend for Parkhurst, some bullshit elite training camp they attend a few times a year. Although the guys will go on to college after graduating high school next May, they will each assume some official responsibility within their family business, fulfilling more public obligations, and this month-long camp trip is part of their preparation.
“Don’t make excuses for him,” I say, turning around and holding my hair up.
Drew unzips my dress, casting his warm brown eyes to the floor as I slip it off and pull on my silk nightdress. “I’m not. You don’t understand the pressure that’s on our shoulders.”
I whirl around on him, my eyes blazing. “Don’t talk to me about pressure! At least you get to have a career and a life! What choices do I have?” I flap my hands about.