The First Time: Rogues of Everly Prep Read online

  “Welcome home, Miss,” he replied.

  “Please, call me Chaz,” I begged.

  The formality, on top of my opulent surroundings, was quickly becoming too much to handle. Gerald opened his mouth to respond, but Atticus and Mom stepped from an open doorway, causing him to snap it shut.

  “Seth, get out here, son,” Atticus bellowed.

  The brick wall appeared through another doorway, looking just as sullen and condescending as he had before. He stepped forward without a word, presenting himself to them.

  “Trisha, honey, this is my son, Seth. Seth, say hello to my fiancée, Trisha.”

  “Hello,” the mountain said, no actual welcome in his voice.

  My mother nodded in greeting, then turned to smile at me, saying, “This is my daughter, Chastity. I believe you two are about the same age.”

  Seth. Somehow, the name suited him.

  His brown eyes darted in my direction, but never really focused as he gave a short nod. He looked back at Mom and Atticus, mumbling something about having a previous engagement before spinning on a heel and walking out the front door without a backward glance.

  “Well, isn’t he friendly?” I mumbled under my breath.

  “You shall adapt,” Gerald whispered, repeating his earlier words.

  Awesome. I wasn’t so sure I wanted to “adapt” to this incredibly strange situation. Besides, this ridiculous farce of an engagement would be over soon, and Mom and I would be moving back to our trailer.

  It wasn’t much, but at least it felt like home. This place…it was like a fucking museum.

  “I’ll show you to your room, Miss Chaz,” Gerald said, pulling me from my musings.

  He lifted an arm toward the grand, curving staircase to indicate I should precede him. I glanced toward Mom to see if she was coming, but she was preoccupied with Atticus. Her cheek rubbed against his chest as she giggled at some undoubtedly bawdy remark he whispered in her ear.

  Yuck.

  Giving Gerald a shrug, I turned and headed toward the stairs. He stayed behind me, guiding me up to the third floor with soft-spoken words. With every scuff of my ratty shoes against the gleaming wood of the staircase, the kernel of foreboding in my gut grew.

  I didn’t belong here, in this behemoth of a mausoleum. I felt like an imposter, sullying the place with my mere presence.

  I didn’t know what my mother was thinking. We would never fit in here. This could never be our home.

  3

  “You have got to be fucking kidding me.”

  I mumbled the words under my breath, but Gerald heard them if his quiet snicker was any indication. I was frozen in place, staring at the horror show before me, so he brushed past me to set my bag on the bed.

  The bed that was at least four feet off the floor and covered in white lace. A mound of pillows—also white—covered half its surface and intricately carved bedposts held up a gauzy canopy that resembled a puffy cloud.

  Eventually, I pulled my eyes from the white monstrosity of a bed and let them roam across the rest of the room. The space was bigger than our entire trailer, artfully decorated with uncomfortable-looking chairs, plush carpeting, thick curtains, and two delicate night stands. All in white.

  Was this some kind of joke? How the hell did they expect me to keep this place clean?

  “Your closet is through there, and the other door leads to your private bathroom,” Gerald said, pointing toward the right side of the room.

  I shuffled forward and pulled open the French doors he indicated as the closet space, and my insides churned as my mouth fell open. The space was huge…and already full of clothing and shoes.

  “Are you sure we have the right room, Gerald?” I squeaked, turning back to face the old butler. “It looks like someone else lives here.”

  I motioned toward the full wardrobe, but he just smiled.

  “Yes, Miss, this is your room. Those are your things.”

  “Uh, no they’re not,” I shot back quickly.

  “Yes, they are,” he replied in a firm voice. “Mister Kincaid had his personal shopper buy you a few staples to get you through until you get settled and are able to go out and buy what you need.”

  “A few things?” I asked, my wide, unblinking eyes burning. I squeezed them shut for a moment refocusing on the full-to-brimming closet. “It’s like an entire store in here.”

  Dresses, skirts, blouses, and silky pants hung from long rods on two of the walls. The third wall was comprised entirely of small shelves, each of them holding a pair of shoes. Fancy heels, practical pumps, sandals, leather boots, and even furry slippers lined the space. I walked over and plucked a shoe from a shelf to examine it.

  “This is my size,” I said, my voice hollow.

  “Yes, Miss. I believe everything here should fit, and it if doesn’t, it can be replaced or altered.”

  I placed the shoe gently back in its place before turning incredulous eyes back to Gerald. “How?”

  “Your mother, Miss. Mister Kincaid inquired as to both of your sizes.”

  “She got all this, too?”

  “Even more, I believe,” he said, the corner of his mouth lifting for a brief second before he smoothed his expression. “I shall leave you to explore and make yourself comfortable. You’ll find the bathroom fully stocked, as well. There is a thermostat by your bed should you need to adjust the temperature, as well as one in the bathroom for that space. And the controls for the fireplace are in the drawer of your night stand.”

  I stared at him wordlessly when he finished, a slightly uncomfortable silence falling between us. He gave me a patient smile before clearing his throat.

  “Will you be needing anything else from me, Miss?”

  “No, I don’t think so,” I said, still dumbfounded. I shook myself out of it, calling out his name as he turned to go.

  “Yes, Miss?”

  “Can you please call me Chaz?”

  I’d asked him before, but we were interrupted before he could respond. I had a feeling he was going to be my lifeline in this absurdly unrealistic fantasy life I found myself living, and I longed for some sense of normalcy.

  Gerald gave me a kind smile. “Of course. But only when Mister Kincaid is not around. He prefers the more formal address.”

  I’d take what I could get. “Thanks, Gerald.”

  “You are very welcome, Chaz.”

  Then he was gone and I was left alone in my new bedroom. I didn’t know if the room had always been decorated like this, or if Atticus had tasked his personal shopper with setting it up just for me, but either way, it was ridiculous.

  I blew out a snort at the thought of the imposing man having his own personal shopper. Seriously? I shook my head. The rich really did pay people to do everything for them.

  I wandered around the closet, pulling open random drawers. I sucked saliva into my windpipe and choked when one of them revealed rows of neatly folded thong underwear in every color of the rainbow.

  Once I cleared my throat and was able to breathe, I picked up one of the scraps of silk and pinched it between the fingers of both hands. It was soft to the touch, obviously of the highest quality. I checked the tag still attached and almost choked again.

  Not only was it exactly my size—which was just plain creepy when I thought about my mom discussing underwear for me with Atticus—but the price listed nearly boggled my mind.

  “One hundred and twenty-five dollars?” I mouthed, no sound escaping my lips. “What the fuck?”

  I dropped the panties back into the drawer, my eyes wide with horror. There were at least thirty pairs folded inside. Who needs thirty pairs of underwear?

  I slammed the drawer closed and held my breath as I slid the one beneath it open. Rows of padded bras stared back at me, in what appeared to be the same colors as the thongs. Matching sets.

  I closed the drawer and walked away. There was no need to inspect them. I knew they’d all be in my size and I didn’t even want to know what they’d cost. I was sure it was some exorbitant amount of money that was nothing more than pocket change to these people.

  I felt like I was in some fantasy land, a dreamscape that I’d wake up from at any moment.

  A delicate chime caught my attention as I walked back into the main bedroom, and my gaze chased to a gold-filigreed clock on the wall. As I realized the time, I rushed to my bag and unzipped it before digging around for my uniform shirt and pants.

  I barely had enough time to shower before my shift at the convenience store.

  I paused for a moment, my hand wadded around a pair of my own cotton bikini panties. My eyes skittered back toward the closet as I thought of the silk thongs.

  “Should I?” I whispered.

  No. I shook my head and darted for the bathroom. I’d deal with the Kincaids’ generous gifts tomorrow. Today, I would wear my own clothes and feel like myself for just a little while longer.

  I forced my feet to keep moving as the opulent bathroom tried to blind me with its gleaming white and platinum surfaces. I bypassed an enormous claw-footed tub and went straight for the shower, turning the various knobs until warm water poured from a large grate in the ceiling and jets pulsed from the back wall.

  I stripped and stepped inside, groaning in pleasure as the jets beat against my back, soothing the muscles there. The rain-shower above me poured down, wetting my hair as it sluiced down my body.

  I decided within seconds that this shower was one luxury I wouldn’t mock or resent. It was glorious.

  In far too short a time, I turned off the water and got out, quickly towel-drying my hair and dressing in my uniform. I stared longingly at the stoned-accented stall, anticipating my next shower. I had a feeling I’d be spending a lot of time in there.

  At least, until all this
was over and Atticus kicked me and my mom to the curb—which would no doubt be sooner, rather than later.

  Once I was fully dressed, I rushed from the room and skipped down the staircase, keeping my eyes firmly on my feet. In part because I didn’t want to trip and make a fool of myself, but also because I simply didn’t have time to waste studying the fancy artwork and lavish appointments. I couldn’t be late for my shift.

  “Mom?” I called out when I reached the foyer.

  “In here, Chastity,” she called out, and I followed her voice to the doorway she emerged from earlier.

  I stepped inside, and my eyes rounded. It was an honest-to-God parlor, with red velvet settees and fancy-looking rugs. The walls were made of dark wood paneling and a fire roared in a large fireplace.

  My first instinct was to spout off some sarcastic remark about having a fire in August, but I bit back the urge. I didn’t have time to debate the idiosyncrasies of the rich. I scanned the room to find Mom curled up against Atticus’s side on one of the dainty couches.

  “I’ve got to get to work,” I said, ignoring their close proximity and their matching puffy, red lips. “Can I have the keys?”

  “Work?” she asked, her voice confused. “You’re not going back there, honey.”

  “Excuse me?” I barked. “Of course, I am.”

  “If I may, Trisha-baby,” Atticus cut in, silencing my mother’s next words before they escaped her lips. “Chastity, there is no need for you to work there anymore. I can provide for all your needs. Yours and your mother’s.”

  Okay, ew. Something about his choice of words skeeved me out, even though I knew he didn’t mean them that way. At least, I hoped he didn’t. Gross.

  “That may be true,” I said, choosing my words carefully, “but I still want to work.”

  What I really wanted to say was there was no guarantee this thing between them would last. That the odds were strongly against this working out. He was obviously enamored by Mom’s beauty and her sweet disposition, but how long before the shine wore off and the imposing man saw us for what we were? How long before he was over slumming it and found some distinguished, high-class lady to parade around on his arm?

  “It’s not safe, Chaz,” Mom whimpered, and my heart melted a little at her use of my nickname.

  It felt like a little bit of normal in this fucked up situation.

  “I have to go, Mom,” I pleaded. “I don’t want to be late.”

  Her mouth fell open, no doubt to argue once more, but Atticus’s voice cut off her words.

  “Marcus, bring the car around,” he said into his phone before tapping the screen and slipping it back into his pocket. He looked at me. “Marcus will drive you and return to pick you up after your shift.”

  I stared at him, mixed feelings churning in my gut. While I was grateful he’d taken my side, I was annoyed that he’d cut off Mom and made the decision without her. And his decision to make me ride in his chauffeured car frustrated me, too.

  “I’d prefer to drive. What if I need to leave early or there’s an emergency?”

  “Oh, that reminds me,” he said, his voice light and pleasant. He plucked a small velvet bag from a nearby table and held it out to me. “This is for you.”

  I took it from him, my breath baited and my fingers gently plucking open the ties as if there was something poisonous waiting inside. There wasn’t.

  A sleek white rectangle spilled into my palm, its screen lighting up with the brush of my thumb.

  “A phone?” I mumbled.

  I’d never had my own phone. We couldn’t afford it. We had a landline at the trailer to make and receive calls on, and I used the old dinosaur of a computer at work to use the internet. The device in my hand looked fancy…and expensive.

  “I’ve taken the liberty of programming in my number, your mother’s, Gerald’s, Marcus’s, and Seth’s,” Atticus said, and my eyes flicked from my new phone to Mom.

  She wiggled her own phone at me, a huge smile on her face. This day just kept getting weirder and weirder.

  “Call Marcus at any time, and he’ll pick you up. No questions asked.”

  The way he said that made the hairs on the back of neck stand on end. It sounded like he thought I was going to need Marcus to get me out of trouble in the dead of night, or something. Like he expected it.

  Like he knew it would happen, and he didn’t mind.

  “Go on, now,” Atticus said, shooing me toward the door. “You don’t want to be late.”

  Weirder and weirder.

  4

  “Hey, Sandy.”

  “You’re three minutes late.”

  I arched a brow at my coworker, and she rolled her eyes before waving me toward the back room. She’d been late to relieve me after long, boring night shifts more than once. Hell, more like a few dozen times. When I reemerged, having stowed my bag and punched the timeclock, she was staring through the hazy glass of the front window.

  “Nice ride,” she mumbled as she stuffed her deposit into an envelope and slid it through a slot in the cabinet safe beside her.

  I followed her gaze to see the shiny, black SUV pulling from the lot. I briefly wondered why Marcus was just now leaving, but brushed off the thought as the bell jingled to signal a customer.

  “I’m out of here,” Sandy said, and I looked up to see Neal strutting toward the counter. “See ya, Chaz.”

  “Bye,” I called out to her as she hurried to the glass doors and zipped through without a backward glance.

  “Was it something I said?” Neal purred as he approached me.

  “Naw,” I replied, leaning across the counter to brush my lips against his. “She worked a twelve hour shift, and I was late.”

  “Well, I’m not sad she’s gone.” His brown eyes roamed down my body, stripping me bare as they went.

  He moved like a sloth, slow and languid, in what I was sure was meant to be a sexy saunter, as he rounded the counter to move behind it. His tongue darted out to wet his lips as he neared me.

  “What are you doing?” I asked, irritation making my skin itch. “You know you’re not supposed to be back here.”

  “It’s okay, baby,” he said, his hand snaking out to brush against my cheek before falling to squeeze my right boob. “The place is deserted and we both know that doesn’t work.”

  He jerked his head toward the useless security camera bolted into the wall near the ceiling. My eyes followed the movement, staring at its unblinking, dead eye for a moment as Neal continued to knead my breast. I looked back at his face, which was contorted into an expression of pleasure mixed with pride.

  “You like that. Don’t you, baby?” he cooed, and I just about lost my shit.

  “I have to go to the bathroom.”

  I pulled away from his groping hand and stalked to the back room. I somehow resisted the urge to slam the bathroom door, closing it gently before flipping down the toilet lid and plopping onto it. I concentrated on keeping my breaths long and even as anger coursed through me.

  My life was in complete shambles. Ripped from my home and thrust into a new life filled with strangers, you’d think my boyfriend would at least ask me if I was okay. But, no. Typical Neal, all he cared about was sex. Did he actually think I was going to fuck him in a convenience store? Where I was working? After the day I’d had?

  “What an asshole,” I mumbled.

  Flushing the toilet for appearance’s sake, I washed my hands and returned to my station by the register. Neal was out in the aisle, looking at the candy bars. Pulling one from the shelf, he waved it at me. I nodded and made a mental note to ring one up and pay for it later.

  “Well, if you’re not down to fool around,” he said, sauntering back toward me, “I guess I’ll leave and let you get to work.”

  Thank God, I thought, but I just nodded and gave him a sweet smile as he walked out the door.

  I was going to have to sit him down and talk to him about boundaries. A thought niggled in the back of my mind that I should just break up with him. I recoiled against it, though. Life as I’d known it had blown apart, and I wasn’t willing to toss away the final piece of normalcy Neal represented.

  Even if it was a crappy piece. At least it was mine.

  I was dog-tired when my shift ended. I’d had a grand total of four overnight customers, so the eight hours had felt more like twenty-seven. I clocked out, grabbed my stuff, and wrote my new cell number down for the manager so he could contact me. I said goodbye to the older woman who relieved me, then stepped out into the crisp, early-morning air.