Cruel Prince: A High School Bully Romance Read online

  Cruel Prince

  Royal Hearts Academy - Book One

  A. Jade

  Contents

  Cruel Prince

  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

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Epilogue

  Royal Hearts Academy

  Resources

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  First published in USA, August 2019

  Copyright © Ashley Jade

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior permission in writing of the publisher, nor be circulated in writing of any publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published without a similar condition including this condition, being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictional manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or deceased, or events is purely coincidence.

  Cruel Prince

  Photographer: Regina Wamba

  Cover Design: Lori Jackson at Lori Jackson Design

  Editor: Ellie McLove

  Kristy Stalter

  Cruel Prince

  Royal Hearts Academy - Book One

  “The road to hell is paved with good intentions.”

  —Proverb

  Prologue

  Jace

  Four years earlier…

  “We won’t let them get away with this.”

  My little sister’s eyes were glassy when she finally looked at me. “There’s nothing we can do, Jace. They already won. Liam’s gone.” Another tear rolled down her cheek. I’d never seen her cry so much in my fourteen years. “Just like Mom.”

  “She’s right,” my brother, Cole, whispered. “Maybe we can convince Dad to move somewhere else.”

  His signature smirk was gone, and his hazel eyes were about as lifeless as Liam’s were when I found him in a closet three days ago.

  My chest squeezed. It hurt to look at him.

  You’d never know it by their personalities, but Cole and Liam were identical twins. And right now it only served as another reminder of how fucked up everything had become.

  My family was falling apart bit by bit. And my father was too wrapped up in work and his own grief to do anything about it.

  It didn’t mean I couldn’t.

  I failed Liam—my little brother and best friend—but I wouldn’t fail the siblings I had left.

  I wouldn’t let this town or the people in it destroy my family.

  My mother once told me that as the oldest, it was my job to look out for the others. Be the person they could depend on. Show them how to navigate life so it would be a little easier for them.

  But the only way I could do that was to turn all the pain I felt off, and let the rage simmering deep down in my soul rise to the surface.

  My mother and little brother weren’t coming back…no matter how many tears we shed or how often we begged God to undo the unthinkable.

  God stopped listening a long time ago.

  My father checked out the moment his wife took her last breath.

  I was all they had left.

  Which meant there was no longer room in my heart for sorrow or grief. Those emotions were wasted on the dead…I had to take care of the living.

  Anger was a far superior driving force. It helped mask all the guilt I was harboring.

  I stood up. “We’re not leaving.”

  Confusion marred their expressions.

  Cole opened his mouth to speak, but I shook my head. He’d have his time after I was done. What I had to say was important.

  “Us leaving town is what they want.”

  Royal Manor was full of rich pricks who would rather get rid of the problem than acknowledging their own.

  Fuck that.

  Liam died because a bunch of assholes at our school thought it was fun to bully a kid with anxiety and a stutter.

  And I wasn’t there to protect him like I should have been. Because of her.

  “They messed with the wrong family.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “I think it’s time for us to give them a taste of their own medicine. Fuck with everyone the way they fucked with Liam.” Determination flowed through me, so strong I nearly choked on it. “And we don’t stop until every last one of them fears us.”

  Bianca wiped her tears with her sleeve. “Until they pay.”

  Cole’s smirk was back. “Until we run this town and make everyone our bitch.”

  Until we avenged the brother we lost.

  Chapter 1

  Dylan

  Dylan,

  Hope you had a good flight. Uncle Wayne and I should be back from Paris tomorrow morning. There’s food in the fridge and your bedroom is all set for you to move in. Oakley can show you where everything is. Can’t wait to see you.

  Love and kisses,

  Aunt Crystal

  PS: I’m going to get a key made for you, but until I do, you can use the spare key under the mat.

  Annoyance sets in as I stare at the hot pink Post-it stuck to the front door. A simple text message disclosing where the spare key was hidden would have been fine.

  And a whole lot safer.

  Not that Royal Manor is a dangerous town, far from it.

  In fact, the low crime rate and good school district were the main reasons my parents wanted to raise me here.

  And if it wasn’t for my mom passing away when I was eight and my father snagging himself a new wife who wanted to move to an even ritzier town on the west coast when I turned fourteen…

  Nope, not going down that road today. Wondering what my life would have been like if my mom was still alive and wishing things had turned out differently doesn’t change the past.

  With a heavy sigh, I rearrange my luggage on the porch and fish the key out from under the mat before entering what will be my new home for the next year.

  I barely have one foot on the cherry wood floor when my phone rings.

  I should do us both a favor and let it go to voicemail, but I swipe the green button anyway.

  I’m hurt, angry…and still not ready to talk to him.

  But I’m not above being petty.

  “You have a collect call from Brian Taylor at Oak Creek Corr
ectional Center. To accept this call, press five. If you don’t wish to accept this call, press zero.”

  I swiftly press zero and hang up.

  Fuck you, Dad.

  Thanks to another Post-it note from Aunt Crystal, I was able to figure out which guest bedroom she cleared out for me.

  Although cleared out is a bit of an understatement. Aside from the queen-sized bed covered with a purple bedspread, an empty bureau, and yet another Post-it note promising to take me shopping later in the week…the room is bare bones.

  Not that I mind. I managed to stuff my entire life into one duffle bag and a medium suitcase. No-frills suits me.

  Less shit to get attached to.

  I open the closet door to hang up some of my clothes, but three plaid skirts, three crisp, white button-down shirts, and three navy blazers snag my attention instead.

  The Royal Hearts Academy emblem above the left breast pockets practically taunts me.

  I wasn’t in a position to make any requests considering my aunt and her husband were nice enough to take in a stray—but the one thing I insisted on was attending the local public school instead of Royal Hearts Academy. My dad forced me to go to private school for elementary and junior high and it was one of the worst experiences of my life.

  The organ in my chest squeezes. With the exception of meeting Jace.

  Of course, the one thing I wanted was the one thing Crystal’s husband wasn’t willing to negotiate on given it’s my cousin’s—technically, step-cousin’s—senior year and he attends RHA.

  Wayne thinks it would be beneficial for me to go to school with his son Oakley, so I’ll have someone to show me the ropes.

  However, it’s clear good ol’ Uncle Wayne must not be very observant. I only met him once briefly at my aunt’s wedding four years ago, but a quick scroll through Oakley’s Instagram suggests he’s about as useful as a goldfish at a Bob Marley concert.

  And by useful? I mean, stoned.

  Which probably explains why he didn’t pick me up from the airport like he was supposed to, or why I still haven’t seen any signs of him…despite being here all afternoon and most of the evening.

  I send him another text, but just like the first ten I sent today, he doesn’t respond.

  Curiosity getting the best of me, I slip out the door of my new room and venture down the long hallway. My aunt said there were six bedrooms in the house—but after knocking on several doors, it’s obvious Oakley isn’t in any of them.

  Stifling a groan, I amble down the staircase and wander into the kitchen. Much like the rest of the house, the kitchen is spacious, and everything looks expensive, but price aside, it’s pretty standard. Stainless steel appliances, glass table, large granite island in the center.

  And no Oakley.

  After checking the living room, my uncle Wayne’s office, and the bathroom on the first floor, I make my way down the stairs leading to the basement.

  The smell of marijuana infiltrates my nostrils almost immediately.

  I’m not a buzzkill, I have no issues with people who smoke—what I have an issue with is people who indulge so much they forget the important stuff.

  Like answering text messages or picking their step-cousin up at the airport.

  The big screen television—which is currently broadcasting two naked girls grinding against one another to awful mumble rap—illuminates the basement enough I’m able to see the back of a leather couch. The smoke wafting toward the ceiling fan tells me there’s a good chance I’ll find Oakley on the other side of it.

  I don’t know whether to laugh or shake my head as I round the corner and see him passed out with one hand down his pants and the other holding what appears to be a partially smoked blunt.

  The baseball cap he’s wearing hides most of his face, but he definitely looks like he’s been asleep for a while. How the house hasn’t burnt down is anyone’s guess.

  I’m about to dispose of the still lit blunt and go back upstairs…but then he speaks.

  “Hey, babe.”

  Uh. Kind of weird, but considering I’ve been called worse by strangers, I decide to roll with it.

  “Hey.”

  “I was wondering when you’d get here,” he murmurs, his voice thick with sleep.

  I tamp down the urge to tell him I would have been here sooner if he picked me up from the goddamn airport like he was supposed to.

  We’re going to be stuck together for the next year and bitching at him isn’t a good way to start a relationship.

  I open my mouth to ask if he wants to grab a bite to eat later, but he speaks again.

  “You’re so fucking hot.”

  Okay, this train has officially reached awkward station.

  “Um. Thank—”

  Before I can finish that sentence, he shoves his sweatpants down and…

  Oh. My. God.

  Bile works up my throat as he wraps his hand around his exposed dick.

  “Come on, beautiful,” he groans. “Quit teasing me and sit on it.”

  I’m positive I must have a contact high because that’s the only way to explain why the actual fuck my step-cousin is summoning me to sit on his penis.

  “Gross. What is wrong with you?”

  Shielding my vision with my hands, I proceed to back away. Unfortunately, I knock into the coffee table so hard I see stars.

  “Dammit,” I yelp, gripping my throbbing calf.

  “You’re not Hayley.”

  Talk about stating the obvious.

  “No shit, Sherlock.” I make the huge mistake of looking up. “Oh, my God, dude. Can you please put your wiener away?”

  “Sure thing,” the pervert says, rising from the couch. “As soon as you tell me who the hell you are and why you’re in my house.”

  He has got to be kidding me.

  “Seriously?” I point to myself. “I’m Dylan.”

  He tilts his head to the side, like he’s having trouble understanding why my name would have any significance to him.

  “Your cousin,” I grit through my teeth and he blanches.

  Eureka.

  I breathe a sigh of relief as he pulls up his pants.

  “You’re not supposed to be here until Saturday.”

  “It is Saturday,” I inform him, and his eyes widen.

  “Well, shit.” He places the blunt between his lips and inhales. “This stuff is better than I thought.” Coughing, he holds it out to me. “Want some?”

  I give him a sardonic smile. “I appreciate the peace offering and all, but I’ll pass.”

  He doesn’t look offended in the least. “That’s cool.” His expression turns serious as he snuffs the cherry of the blunt on a can of soda. “Look, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell the parental units I tried to bang you, okay? They’re on my case enough lately.”

  Oakley doesn’t have to worry. I won’t be telling anyone he tried to bang me.

  I give him a nod.

  He nods back.

  And then it’s nothing but uncomfortable silence.

  Quite the riveting exchange we’re having here.

  “It’s Saturday night,” he declares unexpectedly while stretching his arms over his head and yawning. “Christian’s throwing his big end of summer party before school starts.”

  I don’t know who Christian is, but I wouldn’t mind going to a party. In fact, meeting a few people and reconnecting with some old friends before school starts will probably make things easier for me on Monday.

  My heart does a little flip. Maybe Jace will be there.

  There are so many things I want to tell him.

  And even more things I want to ask him.

  Like why he blocked my number. Or why he never returned any of the dozens of messages I sent him on social media after I left.

  “A party sounds like fun. I can be rea—”

  “Don’t wait up,” Oakley utters, brushing past me.

  Well, that settles that then. My cousin is a bigger tool than the one contained in his
pants.

  “By the way,” he calls out from the stairs. “The school admins are assholes. I doubt they’ll let you keep that blue crap in your hair.”

  Highlights. They’re called highlights.

  A smile touches my lips. I hope they hate my blue hair so much they refuse admission and I have no choice but to attend Royal Manor High instead.

  Chapter 2

  Dylan

  “Your hair,” my aunt exclaims as she wraps me up in a hug the next morning. “I like it, but Royal Hearts won’t. I’m gonna see if I can book an emergency appointment with my salon girl today.”

  Oakley peers up from the breakfast he’s currently wolfing down. “Told you.”

  I shoot him a dirty look as my aunt squeezes me tighter.

  “My goodness. I can’t get over how grown-up you are.”

  Oakley grins. “Like a tall Smurf.”

  I preferred it when he was passed out on the couch.

  There’s a frown on my aunt’s face when we break apart. Like me and my mother—Crystal has pale blonde hair, dark blue eyes, and a freakishly fast metabolism that makes us appear to be in much better shape than we are.