CONOR
I’m a dead man walking.
I promised him I wouldn’t go near her, promised him that I would treat his sister like she was my little sister.
But that was a lie.
Because Darcey Sawyer was not my sister.
She was my best friends’ sister.
She was forbidden fruit. Forbidden fruit that I have waited four years to touch, four years to have one little taste.
Tonight was that night.
Because Darcey fucking Sawyer was turning eighteen, and of course her rich as fuck parents were throwing her the biggest party known to man.
I am Conor ‘King’ Royce, and this king needed his queen.
DARCEY
Four years ago Conor Elijah Royce came into my life, crashing in when I was least expecting it, and it hasn’t been the same since.
He was my brother’s best friend. They met in Buck Hall Private School and have been inseparable ever since their first meeting.
From the moment I laid my eyes on him, I was addicted.His light green eyes with dark, almost black, rings around his iris’ pulled me in.
I wanted to kiss his perfectly-pink, plump bow lips.
His chocolate hair was long on top and shaved round the sides, which had me wanting to run my hands through it.
He made my insides squirm with something I couldn't quite put my finger on.He’s hot, he’s an alpha, he’s vicious, and he’s set his sights on me.He had everybody fooled, thinking he was God’s gift, especially my brother.He was the 'King' of Buck Hall and everybody knew it.
He was everything I shouldn’t want.
Forbidden fruit.
I hated him but wanted him, now more than ever.
Tonight is my eighteenth birthday party.
Tonight is the night that I will get my moment with Conor fucking Royce.
The king was about to take down this princess in his kingdom, and I was going to fall to my knees and bow in front of him.
CONOR
I still remember the first day I saw her. I had just turned sixteen. It was a week or so after I had met her brother Chase at Buck Hall Private School. Every rich kid in Exeter went there if their parents could afford it.
My parents couldn’t.
I managed to get in on a gifted scholarship. I didn’t want to go, but meeting Chase made it bearable. I couldn’t stand the stuck-up kids who looked down their noses at the transfer kid, like I didn’t belong there.
The truth was I didn’t, but I was going to make sure they never looked like that at me again.
Chase invited me over to his house one afternoon after school, and to be honest, I jumped at the chance.
You see, my home life isn’t great. I have a dad who comes and goes as he pleases, and an addict for a mother who couldn’t give two shits if I was dead or alive.
When my dad is home, he makes my life hell. I am his human punching bag. At six-foot-six, I am a lanky, scrawny kid who doesn’t have a hope in hell of standing up against him.
But I made a promise to myself that one day I would.
After school, Chase and I walked towards the bus that took us to a stop just outside his house; the kid had it made. Me on the other hand, had to walk three miles just to get to school. I was gifted a uniform that I had to wash and look after myself. I had no hope in anyone doing it for me.
“Thanks for coming back with me,” Chase said, nudging me with his shoulder. His blonde hair messy, like a curly mop, his grey eyes smiling at me
“No problem, dude,” I replied, nudging him back, a small smirk gracing my face. “Nice just to get away from my shithole of a home.” I sighed.
Chase leant across and wrapped his arm around my shoulders. “Don’t worry, man, I’ve got you. I promise you.” He smiled then dropped his hand and pulled out his phone.
“Is there anything I need to know or not know? Don’t want to put my foot in it.” I laughed, nerves kicking in.
“Not really, all I will say is, I have a younger sister, she is a no-go. Like never. Understood?” His eyes flitted up from his phone, his grey eyes narrowing on me.
“How young?” I asked, teasing.
“Conor...” He glared at me.
“I’m joking, man.” I laughed a light chuckle. “Yeah, cool, I wouldn’t go there, bro. I promise you,” I said, holding my fist up for our infamous fist pump that we have done from day one.
“Then you have nothing to worry about.” He smiled as the bus approached the stop outside his house. He stood up, grabbing his ruck-sack off the floor and swinging it onto his back. I stood up after him, shrugging my bag onto my back and taking a deep breath as we walked off the bus.
Once off, I stood, jaw hitting the floor at the size of his house as the gates started opening slowly, the sound of them dragging along the stony driveway. There were black iron gates at the entrance, and a gravelled path behind them that was long and winding towards the front of the house. The gravel path was lined with huge oak trees. You couldn’t see much from the outside due to the thick green hedges that were neatly trimmed into rectangles, keeping what was hidden behind a mystery. The house was something else.
We walked down the gravelled path in silence. I felt his eyes burning into me, probably not sure on my facial expression. I literally couldn’t get over this house. This is what dreams were made of. I was like a kid in a candy shop for the first time. When you’re piss-poor and come from nothing, you want every single bit of it. I wanted it. All of it. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t envious.
Jealous? No.
But envious, yes.
I was only human after all.
He walked slightly in front of me, jogging up the six steps that lead to the double front doors. The house was built in light, cream bricks and was even bigger up close. The double oak front doors both had gold lion knockers on. Tacky if you asked me, but that is just what pompous people do. Have to have something extravagant just for a knocker. I rolled my eyes at my thoughts.
All the windows were large, sash windows with white Georgian bars running down them, separating the panes into six squares. I walked into his house behind him, my eyes scanning the hallway. It was a bit out there, that was for sure. Every door handle was gold, the staircase had a solid gold bannister that swept all the way up.
Evenly placed up the stairs were those god-awful portraits of weird looking historic people. Honestly, they freaked me out. I stood, kicking the floor with the toe of my converse as nerves crippled me. I felt so out of place. I had never felt more like an outsider than I did right now.
I looked through to the lounge and there was a white, solid marble fire place with slightly burnt logs sitting inside it, and a large gold ornate mirror sat proudly above it. Just underneath were your typical family portraits, then two single ones of Chase and, I am assuming, his sister. It was hard to see from where I was standing.
The carpet in the lounge was a thick, luxurious cream. I wanted to take my shoes off and feel it between my toes. Carpet was a luxury from where I came from. Shit, any floor was a luxury. I had hard-wood, you know, the floor that you lay the carpet on top of.
My eyes scanned the high ceilings, the skirting at the top looked decorative, and the huge gold chandeliers hung from ceiling roses which finished this over-the-top room of perfectly.
“Mum,” Chase called out. “We’re home.” He dropped his bag on the floor, and I copied.