Puppet: Ridgeview Prep Book 1 Read online

  Puppet

  Ridgeview Prep Book 1

  Londyn Quinn

  Contents

  Prologue

  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

  Chapter 19

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Also by Londyn Quinn

  Dedication

  For anyone who has ever felt like a puppet in life and fought back.

  This is for you!

  Prologue

  Xander

  My eyes roam over Charlotte’s lightly tanned skin as it glistens in the sunlight. She’s about ten feet away from me, knee-deep in the surf, so I can safely stare at her from behind my sunglasses without her witnessing the hunger in my gaze.

  Because it would be really bad if she did.

  Like, friendship-destroying bad.

  She can never know how I feel. I made that decision as soon as I realized I was in love with her.

  I never meant for it to happen. We’d been friends for so many years, I just figured we’d stay that way. But then I started noticing things like how her body was changing. She’d always been tall, but over the past few months, she stretched to almost my height. Since she’d been riding horses for years, her body was already muscular, but at fourteen, other things began to change, other areas that my teenage-boy eyes were now wide open to. Her shirts got a little tighter, her skirts a little shorter. And when her braces had come off right after eighth grade, damn. Her thousand-watt smile can make my knees weak from a mile away.

  The football whizzes past my head, and I dive head-first into the wet sand to catch it.

  “Are you with me? Or am I playing with myself, Xan?” Charlotte calls out, a teasing grin tugging at her lips.

  She had to mention playing with herself, didn’t she?

  I’ve been trying to think of every disgusting scenario possible since we got to the beach this morning to keep my dick from exploding out of my swim trunks. Roadkill, hair in my food, maggots on rotting meat, my grandparents fucking. But it’s hard. No pun intended. Watching her run around in that bathing suit has me in knots, and I need distractions. Lots of them.

  Playing football was supposed to be one of them.

  But I’m more focused on how amazing her body looks than her monster spiral.

  Puberty. It’s a real bitch.

  My fingers tighten around the ball, squeezing it so hard, I’m afraid I may pop it. I launch my arm back and release it into the air, watching it sail toward her and land cleanly in her arms, snug under her perfect tits.

  Lucky ball.

  I’d like to be you.

  Again, the ball flies in my direction, and this time I’m going to focus and catch it even though I’m more interested in staring at my best friend’s ass when she turns around to splash herself with the cool water. I reach out and jump into the air, stopping it with my chest before it gets away from me.

  A hearty chuckle rings out. “It’s about time you caught one!” Charlotte teases.

  “I was just warming up.”

  “For twenty minutes?” She sticks her hands on her hips, jutting one out. “So, now you’re really ready to play?”

  Uhhhh….

  More talk about playing. Jesus, I need to get behind a towel and fast before I pitch a tent in my pants.

  “I’m going for a quick swim, okay?” She waves and backs into the waves. “Come with!”

  “Yeah, I will. Just give me a second. I need a quick drink.” I need a lot of other things, too, and her head would spin off her body if she knew what they were. I back away from the water and trot toward our set-up on the beach. It’s early in the morning, the best time to get here to claim a spot. In an hour, the place will be a madhouse and people will be lucky if they can even claim a patch of sand.

  I take a long gulp of my water, letting the cold liquid put out the fires raging deep inside of me.

  This wasn’t supposed to happen.

  Not now. Not ever.

  And if she knew the person I really am, the one I’ve kept hidden, she’d take off like a shot, screaming her head off.

  Because that’s what happens when you come face to face with a monster.

  You run.

  You save yourself.

  I, on the other hand, cannot be saved.

  I turn back toward the water. The early morning sunlight glitters along the top of the waves. Charlotte’s blond head bobs in the distance, her arms flailing around. I grin and wave at her, and the thought of standing close to her in that skimpy bikini while my rogue junk is hidden beneath the waves sends me racing back toward the shore. After throwing my sunglasses onto my beach towel, I dive into the water, propelling myself toward her. I blink fast, the spray of water burning my eyes behind the sunglasses.

  “Char!”

  No response. No ‘here, turn’. No wave. No smile.

  Nothing.

  Maybe she didn’t hear me.

  “Char!” I yell it louder even though she’s close enough to have heard me the first time. My heart thuds against my chest with each lap. I close the distance between us and grab her around the waist, twisting her toward me.

  “Fuck!”

  Her once-tanned face is drained of color, her lips a sickly shade of blue. I tap my hand against her cheeks. “Charlotte!”

  Nothing.

  I look back toward the shore, but I already know the lifeguards aren’t on duty yet. We’re alone, and only one person can help her.

  Me.

  I need to get her out of here fast!

  I loop an arm around her waist, my pulse throbbing against my throat. My arm muscles burn with each stroke, my legs kicking furiously through the waves. Finally, my feet hit the shore and I drag myself onto the shore, laying Charlotte’s limp body down on the wet sand.

  Every muscle in my body tenses up as I part her lips and press my mouth to hers. I expel a few deep breaths into her before sitting back to press my hands against her chest. I don’t even know what the hell I’m doing, but if I don’t try something, I’m going to lose my girl.

  I can’t let that happen.

  Even if I can’t have her, the world still needs her.

  I swallow hard, my hands positioned against her chest. I press hard once, twice, and just as I’m about to lay into her a third time, her body jolts. I jump back, dragging my hand against her face. She coughs and sputters water, gasping for air, clutching my hands.

  My heart damn-near explodes out of my chest until her body is calm. I rake a hand through my hair and collapse onto the sand next to her. “Fuck, Char. You almost gave me a heart attack. What the hell happened?”

  She rolls over to look at me, color flooding her cheeks. “I got dragged under by a wave. Damn undertow. It flipped me all over the place. I tried to get your attention, but you were on the beach.”

  “I shouldn’t have left you alone out there,” I say through gritted teeth. “I’m sorry.”

  Charlotte leans up on her elbows, her perfect white smile gleaming in the sunlight. “Don’t beat yourself up over it. You saved my life, Xan.”

  I let out a shaky breath.

  Yeah, I did.

  But little did I know that by saving her this time, I’d give up my own in the process.

  * * *

  My iPhone alarm
blares, yanking me out of a fitful sleep where I came to drenched in dreams from years ago. Eighteen-year-old me really needs to get over the feelings I had when I was fucking fourteen. I scrub a hand over my face, letting out a low groan when the throbbing between my temples intensifies. I open my eyes a crack and squeeze them shut when the stream of sunlight peeking through the curtains temporarily blinds me.

  I press the pillow over my head, still haunted by the memories conjured up by my dream. Shit like that always happens after a night of drinking. My brain goes back to the days when I didn’t have to use alcohol to blunt my emotions and silence the demons.

  The days when my life was at least somewhat normal.

  Happy.

  Complete.

  It was a fucking fantasy world.

  And like all fantasies, it was ultimately destroyed by reality a year and a half ago.

  A year and a half.

  I ball my fists and slam them onto the mattress.

  Why the hell am I thinking about her again? Because I saw someone who might have looked like her at that club?

  When I walked away, when I left her house that night, it was forever.

  No looking back.

  No second chances.

  And as much as I’ve tried to forget about her, I can’t. I relive every single minute of that night, the taste of her cherry-flavored lips on mine, her soft skin beneath my fingertips, the way her body felt pressed against mine as I explored her mouth with my tongue.

  The way my heart damn-near stopped when she told me she loved me...

  Words I’d wanted to say for as long as I could remember, words I’d kept buried because I knew I could never have her in that way.

  Her father would never allow it, cocksucker that he is.

  I’d fought against all the trappings of my life for so long because of Charlotte. The expectations, the responsibilities, the havoc...I resisted it all.

  For her.

  For us.

  She kept me grounded. Centered. Sane.

  And then in the next breath, she told me she was leaving me. Forever.

  Over a year later, and I can still remember the ache that assaulted my chest in that moment, the rage that coursed through my body, the harsh reality that awaited me once I stormed out of her house.

  It turned me into the person I am today, the monster that always lurked close by, but never came out to play.

  That night, he finally broke free and he’s been running the show ever since.

  Blood bubbles in my veins as I recall the evil smirk her father flashed at me that night. He knew, that bastard. He knew what he was doing to me, to us when he booked her on that flight to London.

  He was staking his claim, protecting what was his. No matter the cost.

  And in doing so, he yanked her away from me, leaving me to sink into the darkness that loomed over me.

  She could have said no. She could have stayed here, with me!

  But she didn’t. She cast me aside to please her asshole family.

  Leaving me to do the same.

  She’d always been her daddy’s little puppet. Why did I think that would ever change?

  Ever since then, I’ve accepted my place. I stopped resisting.

  I’ve become the prick bastard everyone fears because I have nothing to lose.

  And I hate myself.

  But I hate her more.

  Chapter 1

  Charlotte

  I sniff the arm of my sweatshirt and scrunch up my nose. Ugh. I stink of airplane. My ears are still clogged from the eight-hour flight, my head throbbing. But I am finally home.

  For the first time in over a year.

  I take in the Newark Airport aroma with a long, shuddering breath as soon as I exit the boarding doors. It smells so foreign and familiar all at once.

  Tugging on the straps of my Louis Vuitton backpack, I start my journey to baggage claim. With my cell phone clutched in my hand, I rattle off a text to my mother letting her know that I have landed safely. It isn’t a surprise that she doesn’t respond right away. She is probably getting a massage or having a manicure in anticipation of my arrival.

  Because I give a damn what her nails look like, right?

  As I step off the escalator, a man in a dark jacket who is looking everywhere but right in front of him crashes into me, sending my phone clattering to the ground. It is a casualty of the airport. People are rushing in every direction trying to make flights, find loved ones, and get home.

  I am startled backwards as his almost-black eyes meet mine, the piercing gaze rooting me to the spot. They glow with an intensity that feels as if they can slice right into my soul. His wide, weathered hand rushes out, grabbing my forearm stiffly to steady my wobbling body.

  “Excuse me, miss,” he growls with a simper spreading wide across his stubble-covered face, revealing a pearly set of teeth too perfect for his scoured features. He stoops down to retrieve my phone still tightly gripping my arm.

  Taking a step back, I rip my arm out of his grasp. I smooth down my sleeve while taking a good, long look at him as he places the small device back in my hand. Tall and menacing with a jagged scar that travels from the crow’s feet next to his right eye, all the way down to his defined jawline. The pinkish gash unnerves me for some inexplicable reason as I try to wave off his innocent mistake.

  “It happens,” I offer quickly, glancing around awkwardly at all of the passersby consumed with their own agendas.

  “I should really pay more attention.” His deep, gravelly voice sends chills slithering down my spine.

  Why is he still standing here?

  He is blocking the way to the baggage claim. Taking a large step to my right, I force a smile and continue on my way.

  “Have a nice day,” he calls after me with a small wave. With one final glance backward, I catch his unwavering stare. I flip around quickly and rush toward my carousel, swallowing hard.

  People are so bizarre.

  I shake off the peculiar encounter as I make my way into the large, crowded room. Waiting for me with a colossal grin plastered on his face is the best sight for my very sore eyes. Rolland. He is holding a welcome home sign with my name on it, looking like quite the goofball. He definitely made the banner himself. It’s pink and purple with glitter all over it, and his goal was clearly to make it as obnoxious as possible to put the biggest smile on my face. Rolland is always incredibly sweet like that.

  I’ve missed him terribly.

  Hurrying into Rolland’s outstretched arms, I squeeze his broad body into mine for the first time in far too long. The only time that my parents had ventured across the pond for a visit, they traveled with other members of our staff. It was upsetting that they never thought to bring Rolland or Moira to see me, but beggars can’t be choosers.

  At least they came.

  Once. In a year and a half, my folks took the time to see their only daughter one time. That was it. They never offered to bring me home for the holidays or summers. To say it hurt was an understatement, but I knew the reason why. Xander. My father was resolved to keep me as far away from him as possible, and for a while, he succeeded.

  My lifeline had been severed when Xander cut me out of his life the night before I left.

  Not a single day went by that I didn’t think about the Iazetti boy who stole my heart and also crushed it in the same breath. I was constantly assaulted by the vivid memories of our last encounter. The pure bliss that erupted into bitterness, anger, and hate, and a final toxic farewell that tore my heart out, shredded it, and stuffed it back into my chest to flounder on its own.

  I’ll never forget that pain.

  It torments me every day, and I hate him for leaving me like that, for casting me aside like I was nothing more to him than a used tissue.

  I’m all too familiar with that kind of pain and rejection…I have my parents to thank for that.

  But Xander was different.

  Special.

  Hell, he was everything.

>   Until he was nothing.

  I tried to move on. I made a few friends in London, went to parties, and even dated a bit. Nothing seemed to heal old wounds. They were gaping, oozing, festering gashes that I hid deep down under makeup, designer clothes, and a forced smile. I never spoke about Xander or that night to anyone. It was the dirty, dark secret that stayed buried in my hollowed-out chest.

  But being home in Rolland’s warm embrace brings it all back like a rushing tidal wave. That and the fact that I’m only hours away from facing everything I left behind when I roll up to Ridgeview Preparatory School to complete my senior year.

  “It is so wonderful to have you home, Miss,” Rolland says, taking my carry-on from me and slinging it over his back.

  “I’ve missed you so much, Rolland. Thanks for coming to meet me,” I reply back to him while eyeing the luggage belt filled with bags of all shapes and sizes. “I guess Mom and Dad were too busy to join, huh?”

  Rolland shrugs, pretending to stare past me at the carousel. “Your father is out of town for a meeting, and your mother—”

  I put up a hand. “Ah, let me guess. Hot yoga?”

  Rolland quirks up his lips. “Hot yoga, eyelash fill, and a facial.”

  “Busy lady.” I lift an eyebrow.

  “Busy.” He nods. “But empty.”

  I let out a sigh. If that isn’t the fucking truth. Too bad she still hasn’t learned that all of that crap won’t ever give her life purpose, that she might feel more fulfilled if she actually had a relationship with her daughter.

  A year and a half later, and I’m walking right back into the exact same life I left behind.

  Thankfully, it didn’t take long for the three matching designer bags to come around the carousel. I tried to get them myself, but Rolland jumped in front of me, grabbing them with a flourish. I can’t help but laugh at how excited he is to help me with my excessive amount of luggage.