Callie Rose Defiant Princess Read Online Free

  Defiant Princess

Boys of Oak Park Prep #2

Callie Rose

Copyright © 2019 by Callie Rose

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This is a piece of work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author'south imagination or used fictitiously. Whatsoever resemblance to bodily persons, living or had, or actual events is purely casual.

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Contents

Affiliate ane

Chapter two

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter v

Affiliate half dozen

Chapter 7

Affiliate 8

Affiliate 9

Chapter 10

Affiliate 11

Chapter 12

Affiliate 13

Chapter fourteen

Chapter fifteen

Chapter 16

Affiliate 17

Chapter xviii

Affiliate nineteen

Chapter twenty

Chapter 21

Affiliate 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Backmatter

Broken Empire Sneak Peek

Thank You For Reading

Affiliate i

"I similar y'all when you're wild, Legs."

"Yep?"

"Fuck yes."

Finn'due south grin was infectious, his laughing love-colored optics lit by moonlight. Sugariness sat on my tongue from the cupcake'south frosting, and two tequila shots buzzed in my veins, making the world seem beautiful and miraculous.

Exquisite.

"Speaking of wild." Mason's phonation tugged my attention from Finn's warm gaze, and I watched him sit on the soft sand and take a elevate from the articulation Cole had rolled. His total lips pursed every bit he blew it out slowly. "It's your altogether. What do you lot desire to do to celebrate?"

An ocean cakewalk caught my hair, the salty air playing with the brown strands as I sank onto the sand abreast him. Moon and starlight glinted off the vast surface area of water before us, and the foamy waves crept upwardly the shore in rhythmic undulations.

"This," I murmured happily. "Simply this. It's perfect."

"Hey! Girl, are you listenin'? I said I didn't want fuckin' onions on my burger!"

The irate, nasal voice dragged me back to the present just as the speaker—a homo with a thin handlebar mustache and graying blond pilus—slammed his half-eaten hamburger down on his plate. He pulled a stringy onion slice out of information technology and lobbed it toward me. The slimy ring landed on my chest, sliding down into the pocket-sized crevice of my cleavage.

I was wearing a gel push-upwards bra that added actress padding and smashed my boobs together to create enough cleavage to fill out the low-cut tank acme with the words Large Daddy'south emblazoned on the front.

Angling the onion band out from between my boobs, I nodded stiffly. "Sorry, sir. My mistake."

"Damn right, information technology was." His optics narrowed in badgerer before his gaze slipped downwards to my chest, where his buddies had been staring the whole time. "So what do I get?"

"I'll bring you another burger," I said dully. I'd already been at Big Daddy'due south for 7 hours, and it'd been a shit twenty-four hours for tips. A shit day in general, really.

"That'south it? I don't get anything else?" He scoffed. "If I'd been allergic to onions, I could've died."

But you aren't, are you lot? You're just an asshole who definitely didn't ask for no onions in the first place.

Or maybe he had. I honestly wasn't sure. Today had been a particularly bad twenty-four hours for my focus. I kept slipping into memories I wanted desperately to forget—they pulled me nether like a riptide, thrashing me around in a turbulent sea of emotions. They were almost like flashbacks, so vivid and consuming they seemed to yank me out of the present and hurl me through infinite and time.

"I don't know, sir. What would you like?" The possessor of Big Daddy's, Jeff, didn't like the states giving out complimentary stuff, merely I but wanted this asshole off my back. It'd exist worth getting chewed out later if I could get mustache-human being to exit me solitary.

"How most a lap dance?" One of his buddies, whose hair was even thinner than his friend'due south, grinned lecherously.

My stomach twisted, but I managed to keep my face mostly equanimous, refusing to wait at the new speaker. "This isn't a strip club. It'south a restaurant. Practise you want something else to eat or not?"

"Oh, come on!" his buddy pressed, reaching over to palm my ass in the haul shorts that were besides part of the Big Daddy's uniform. "Yous don't dress like this unless you're plannin' to take it off."

I shoved his hand away, taking a large footstep back equally my heart charge per unit picked upward. Anger flooded my veins similar hot oil, the flashback from the beach that nighttime compounding my hatred of the assholes gathered effectually the table in front of me. He probably didn't know that the donkey he'd but tried to grope belonged to a seventeen-year-old—I'd lied about my age to get hired, telling Jeff I was twenty-one—but it shouldn't fucking matter.

"I'll become you a new burger, and I'll throw in a free beer," I said shortly, then turned on my heel and headed for the kitchen before any of them could object.

Fuck this identify.

Fuck these entitled men who think for a unmarried 2nd that any of the girls here clothes like this for their do good.

But more than any of those men, more than mustache-man or his buddies, I hated the four boys who had relegated me to this shithole chore in this dead-end town.

Fuck the Princes of Oak Park Prep.

My shift didn't terminate for another 3 hours, and my legs and feet ached by the fourth dimension I started walking toward the bus stop. I'd been back in Idaho for two and a half months, and I could tell I'd lost basis in my strength and flexibility. I hadn't danced since the concluding week of classes at Oak Park—partly because I didn't have the time or money to go to a studio hither, and partly because even dancing made me think of the Princes, and I wasn't ready to face that.

Instead, I'd thrown myself into work, juggling 2 jobs and picking up extra shifts whenever and wherever I could. It kept me out of the foster abode I'd been placed in as much every bit possible, and when I was there, I was usually asleep.

Mina, the adult female who'd agreed to foster me, had 2 other kids living at her place as well. She was doing it for the coin and no other reason, which meant she didn't fifty-fifty attempt to enforce whatever kind of curfew or firm rules on me. As long as I didn't get myself arrested or make her look bad when Child Protective Services did their check-ins, she didn't give a shit what I did.

Janet Pelletier had sat me down for a long interview after retrieving me from the airport the mean solar day I got dorsum. I'd half expected Jacqueline to take completely turned her against me, convinced her I was a total juvenile delinquent who'd be ameliorate off behind bars than in the arrangement, only Janet's handling of me was entirely neutral. Perhaps she was just trying to cover her ain donkey, since she was the i who pushed so hard for me to go stay with my grandparents in Roseland.

She'd promised she would work hard to discover a home that would be a skillful fit for me. Just either s

he'd lied, or—more than probable—there merely weren't that many practiced options available.

I probably should've been glad to be placed in a house where no one actually cared where I went or what I did. It fabricated my revenge plans easier to pursue. But "no 1 cares about me" is a pretty shitty mantra to live your life by, and when I thought about the two remaining blood relatives I had left in the world, my chest ached like there was a black hole in my middle.

For just a little while, I'd let myself believe in the optimistic pic Janet had painted when she'd first told me almost Jacqueline and Philip. Had let myself believe at that place might be a family out at that place who loved me. I'd realized pretty quickly later arriving in Roseland that I'd never have that kind of relationship with my grandparents.

But I hadn't expected things to end so desperately.

Reaching upwardly, I brushed my fingertips along the curve of my cheekbone as I gazed down the street to picket for the headlights of the bus. The bruise that Jacqueline's stinging slaps had left on the side of my face had faded long agone, but simply similar my memories of the Princes, I swore I could still feel information technology sometimes. As if it'd all happened yesterday and not months ago.

It's over, Talia. Permit it get.

But I wouldn't.

I couldn't.

I prayed daily for the memories to fade into obscurity, to become fuzzy, one-half-remembered images in my listen. But at the aforementioned fourth dimension, I nurtured them, clung to them, refusing to let them go.

Equally painful as it was, I didn't want to forget. I wanted to remember every lie the Princes told me, every faux promise and empty expect. Because if I ever forgot those things, possibly I'd forgive them for what they did.

And I could never practise that.

When the bus finally rolled up, I slipped on board and fabricated my mode to the back. A homeless homo slept in the handicapped seats by the dorsum door, sprawled out beyond the bench—I wasn't fifty-fifty sure the driver knew he was there, just I didn't say anything as I settled into my own seat. In the dim white light of the bus's interior, I tugged a sheaf of papers out of my backpack and paged through them.

I'd gone over it all before, only I kept looking anyway.

Mina didn't have wifi—she claimed it was then none of her foster kids could abuse information technology—but I'd been going to the public library on my days off or in betwixt shifts, using the computers there to do research on the Prescott, Van Buren, Whittaker, and Mercer families.

The Princes had taught me that. I'd seen them dig up information on Evan Baxter'south dad and apply information technology to destroy his family. And I believed—I had to believe—there was information out there that would bring each one of them down too.

I just had to find it.

What I'd managed to gather then far wasn't all that damaging, but I printed out and kept everything that seemed like it could be important, no matter how small.

I spent the thirty-minute ride rereading an commodity nearly Finn's inferior high and high school football career and expected rise to fame in higher and beyond, and when the bus dropped me off on the dark street near Mina's house, I shoved everything dorsum in my bag.

That article in item pissed me off. My dream of dancing professionally had been considered a waste of time by my grandma, and at present I'd probably never take the chance to actually pursue it. But Finn was still on track to make a career out of the matter he loved most in the world.

Maybe it was because talking almost our two passions was the beginning moment I'd felt an actual man connection with the blond quarterback, but it felt so unfair it made me want to scream.

Mina's habitation was on the reverse side of Sand Valley from the flat I'd shared with my dad, so I hadn't had to get near the old place, and I'd made a point to avert that part of boondocks. She lived in a modest two-story firm, and Ian, Brick, and I were all stuffed up into the upper level, in iii rooms that could only generously be chosen bedrooms. The boys were both younger than I was, but Brick cursed similar a fucking biker and already boasted about his sexual conquests like a thirty-year-former manwhore.

I didn't talk to either of them a lot, but I knew they both considered me "soft". They'd both been in the system for years already, and the cynicism it'd ingrained in them was heartbreaking to run across.

So over again, mayhap they were correct. Maybe I needed to learn the kind of cynicism they had, to stop viewing people I met as potential allies and instead divide them into but two categories—people I could use, and people who were in my way.

Every bit I crept upwardly the creaking stairs of the erstwhile house, Brick passed me, sneaking in the contrary direction. He lifted his chin when he saw me, the movement barely discernible in the night. "Hey. Where you been?"

"Piece of work. Where are you going?"

He snorted. "Don't worry almost it, sister."

I rolled my eyes. I hated when he chosen me that. He called Mina "ma" and Ian "bro" also, and every time he uttered the words, they came out coated in bitter poison.

"Aye, fine," I muttered back, merely he was already moving again, disappearing downwardly the stairs similar a ghost.

I slipped inside my small room and dug my Big Daddy's uniform out of my bag to lay it over the back of the rickety chair in the corner. I would need to habiliment it again tomorrow, and I didn't have time to launder it, so Febreeze would have to do. Then I changed into my pajamas and sat on the small twin bed, massaging my sore calves and quads, delaying the inevitable a little while longer.

Burnout tugged at me, a bone-deep tiredness that begged me to close my eyes, merely I e'er resisted equally long every bit I could. Considering no thing how tired I was, no matter how hard I pushed myself during the 24-hour interval, it was never enough to proceed me from dreaming.

And in my dreams, I sometimes forgot to hate them.

Chapter two

My eyes snapped open as I saturday upward with a gasp, hands scrabbling for purchase in the empty air around me. My entire body tensed for an impact that never came, and afterwards a horrible moment where I hovered between waking and sleeping, I let out a long, shuddering jiff.

I'd had this dream earlier.

In the dream, my mother—or at least someone who resembled my vague memories of her, with hazel eyes and dark brown hair—plant me again.

In my dream, she wasn't dead.

She'd never been expressionless.

She told me, in a rush of words that didn't brand any sense, that she'd been hiding out, waiting, biding her time. Plotting her revenge, just similar I was plotting mine. She told me it was time—time for united states both to verbal our vengeance.

Then she led me up to a cliff in the hills that overlooked Roseland, and as we stood upward there together, gazing down at the pristine, luxurious town, she fabricated me promise to never forget.

When I turned to ask her what she meant, it wasn't my mom standing next to me anymore. It was Jacqueline, flanked by the Princes and Philip and several other faces I didn't recognize. And she never answered my question.

Instead, she put a manus on my chest and pushed, and I tumbled astern through space, hurtling over the edge of the cliff toward the ground beneath.

My stomach churned with nausea at the memory of the dream, and I flopped back on the mattress, crimper up in a ball on my side equally I took several deep breaths.

At least that dream was better than the ones where I did forget. Where I dreamt of iv boys who looked out for me, protected me, who held a piece of my heart in their open palms—and only remembered when I woke upwards how they'd curled their fingers into fists and squeezed those pieces of my center until they bled.

When my heart rate was under control again, I stumbled out of bed, chucked my Large Daddy's uniform in my bag, and threw on a pair of jeans and a ratty one-time t-shirt. I was scheduled to work at the gas station before my shift at the eating place today, but I all the same had fourth dimension before both to go to the library.

I headed out at viii:30 so I could become at that place when they opened at nine. If you were looking for a proficient book to read, the Sand Valley Public Library was the wrong place to go. They didn't have a large pick, and anything new or

halfway decent was usually stolen. But they had a bank of old computers in the back that were free to apply, and then I'd become a regular fixture there over the summer.

The librarian on duty gave me a bored expect as I headed toward the back, then returned to staring at her own computer.

Stonemason, Finn, Elijah, and Cole all had more than of an cyberspace presence than I did. Beyond social media, their names simply popped up in more places—probably because they were the sons of the elite, the adjacent generation of American royalty destined to accept over their family legacies. What they did mattered to people more than what a nobody from Idaho did.

I hoped someday I could use that to my advantage.

If I played my cards right, they'd never see the nobody from Idaho coming. Non until information technology was as well tardily.

My previous searches had unearthed several pictures of Elijah and his younger blood brother and sister. I had always idea Elijah looked similar he was born to wear suits, that the Oak Park compatible fit him like a second pare, but it was even more obvious when I saw him adjacent to his younger siblings. He looked so dissimilar than them, all his crude edges polished and smoothed down like i of the stones I'd picked up on the beach behind my grandparents' business firm.

I'd also plant several pictures of Penny, Cole'due south eight-yr-old sister. She looked sweetness, with blackness pilus but similar her blood brother and a round, open face. I didn't print those pictures though, because fifty-fifty if there was some style I could hurt him through her, I wouldn't do it. I probably could—he'd beat that kid Preston to a pulp because Preston had talked shit about his sis—but I refused to sink to that level. She hadn't meant to have a walking cock for a brother, and she didn't deserve to suffer for it.

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