Chapter 6

I stood back, out of breath but with a smirk on my face, admiring the last bubbles fizzle out in the lake behind my dad’s mansion. It took tremendous effort to jump from the moving Stingray as it propelled straight into the lake–with me crashing into hard dirt and stones in the process–but it was worth every single stab of pain.

The best part of it all? This lake wasn’t deep enough for the Stingray to disappear entirely. You could still see the top of the car as you walked by. But, it was deep enough to make it impossible to retrieve it with ease, as the base of the lake was made out of clay mud, swallowing the bottom of the car and locking it in place.

The lake would have to be drained and would require a lot of manpower and machines to remove the car.

I would know this, as it wasn’t the first car that ended up in that lake. With family parties and alcohol, to date it had eaten more than its fair share of metal.

Take that, shithead.

With a smug look on my face, I dusted my hands at the thighs of my jeans, and rounded the large property toward the front gate. It took quite a bit more walking than I was up for, but it was a tiny price I had to pay for destroying my lift.

I had no doubt that Jace would come looking for his Stingray. I would tip off the staff of its whereabouts if he comes searching–while banning him from the mansion altogether.

With all the security cameras around the property, your best bet I’d get to witness the moment he discovered it and had a full-on meltdown.

He was an all-out jock. Bet he had meltdowns to match too.

Sticks and grass crunched beneath my shoes as I rounded the corner, noticing a flashy black car parked inside the grounds near the gate. I didn’t recognize the model or the vehicle, as Dad only got around in his limos. If anyone came for visits, he never allowed them to park on the ground for safety reasons. What those reasons were in specific, I have yet to find out.

It also couldn’t belong to the staff either, as there was no way they would afford something like this.

Then I was struck with one conclusion. “Oh, great. Another one.”

Dad had another girlfriend. Or, fiancé, considering the rate he went through women. Heck, he might be married at this point. They were the only ones besides the residents of this place allowed to park inside.

With a dismissive sigh, I stabbed a finger at the intercom button. Not a second later, our butler–a short, scrawny and balding man called Harris–greeted me through the intercom. “Miss Cartwright, what a beautiful sight for sore eyes!”

The gate rolled open. I directed a genuine smile toward the camera facing the gate, offering a small wave. “I missed you, Harris!”

It wasn’t a lie. He was like the grandpa I never knew and more of a father figure to me than my actual dad.

“I’ll have a bowl of skittles ready with a side of coke, yes?” he replied attentively.

“You know me,” I grinned, walking through the entrance. “But I’m afraid I’ll need something strong to drink today.”

A pause followed. Then, in a low voice, Harris said, “You’re going to need a few bottles of tequila, Miss, if you know what awaits you.”

I froze, facing the gate as it was already closing again. “What do you mean?”

My thoughts shot toward the ‘new girlfriend’ conclusion. “Let me guess, he’s getting married? Or is he married and already filing for a divorce because of the new mistress?”

A click sounded as Harris hung up on me. Harris never hung up on me. Unless Dad was nearby with prying ears.

“Just lovely,” I murmured, stalking toward the front door. I barely reached the steps when a woman dressed in a skimpy maid outfit stepped out. Naturally, she was around my age and had a bust the size of two large watermelons.

Exactly how Dad liked them.

I felt sorry for the maids because I knew they needed the job and had to clean while tolerating an old man leering at them, who dropped constant, inappropriate comments about their bodies.

“Miss Cartwright, welcome home!” she flashed a toothy smile and held out a small, wrapped gift to me. “Your father couldn’t be here to welcome you himself. He’s on a business trip. So, he wants you to have this instead.”

“Oh.” My lips turned down as I peered at the silver wrapping coating the present, then lifted my gaze to meet hers before I took it, forcing a smile. “Hi. I prefer to be called Elise.”

“Elise, of course.” She nodded. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

As I tore the wrapping apart, I asked, “What’s your name?”

Her eyes shot wide as if I had just asked something scandalous. Which was kind of true amongst the rich. As far as they were concerned, the staff was nothing but nameless ghosts to them.

But I wasn’t them. “You won’t get in trouble. My dad–your boss–knows I prefer to know the staff.”

She offered a smile, but it seemed reluctant. “E-Elizabeth.”

I peered at her. “Do you really go by that, or do you prefer Liz? Or Lizzie?”

Her smile grew softer, more genuine. “Beth.”

I grinned. “Beth. It’s nice to meet you too. And thank you for this.” I held up the gift before pulling off the lid.

Beth took the crumpled wrapping paper from me and waited as I peered into the small box with a note inside.

The smile on my face was replaced with a frown as I pulled it out and read it aloud. “Welcome home. We will talk when I get back. Stay out of trouble.”

Beth’s smile evaporated. “Oh.”

“Yeah, I should have known.” I handed her the empty box. “Thank you, anyway.”

She offered a final smile and rushed toward the front door, and held it open for me.

I thanked her again as I walked through the threshold. Harris half-ran toward me, pulling me into a tight hug when I entered the foyer.

“Ah, Miss Cartwright.”

“Stop calling me that.” I smiled and hugged him back. He’d been our butler since I was in diapers, and despite my protests, I knew I wouldn’t change any of his habits regarding name-calling. I still tried, though.

When Harris stepped back, he peered up at me with a wide smile. “Your breakfast and snacks are waiting for you in the kitchen, Miss. Will have it sent out once you’re settled.”

“Thank you, Harris.” I peered across the foyer. “So, where is this woman?”

Harris stiffened, and Beth suddenly spun around and ran out of the room.

I blinked. “Harris?”

“No woman, Miss.”

“Then what is going on?” I asked, my heart beating fast. “Is some of the gang here to chew me out?”

“No, Miss.”

“Harris?” I gritted.

“Miss, I feel you should see for yourself,” he replied, shifting his weight. “I’d sworn loyalty to your father when I signed up for this job, but I…” his voice trailed. He swallowed, speaking in a low tone. “You should watch yourself, Miss. Never trust one who runs outside a pack.”

My eyes bulged. “A rogue? There’s a rogue in here?”

Harris nodded in the direction of the dining room. “Go have breakfast, Miss. But don’t eat anything from the table. You know, it might be spiked. The staff will bring you your own food.”

Harris left me, staring with a confused expression after him. He didn’t comment on the scratches on my arms or the state of my hair. Of course, he wouldn’t, as it was normal for me to look like this. But if there was anyone important in the dining room who might wish me ill, or someone from the gang, I’d best clean up first.

It took me the whole of fifteen minutes to dress in new jeans, pull on a clean white-lace top and fix my hair. I couldn’t do much about the scratches, so I headed straight for the dining room to get it over with.

My posture stiffened when I entered, and it felt like someone punched me in the stomach. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

Hunter glanced up from a piece of bacon he held between the tips of his fingers as he sat by the table, his expression as cold as the last time I’ve seen him. However, he wasn’t the one who answered my question.

“Oh look, the princess decided to grace us with her presence.”

My eyes shot toward the mocking voice on the other side of the table, where a potted plant stood, blocking the view. But I didn’t need to see him to know who it was.

It was Darius freaking Monroe.

The Savage.