Treacherous by Alex Grayson & Melissa Toppen

  Treacherous

  Copyright © 2019 by Alex Grayson & Melissa Toppen.

  All rights reserved.

  Cover Design by Melissa Gill Designs. Interior Formatting by Alex Grayson. Editing by Rose David Editing.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  The scanning, uploading, and/or distribution of this document via the internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and is punishable by law.

  Please purchase only authorized editions and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrightable materials.

  All characters and events appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real events or persons, living or dead, is purely coincide.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Epilogue

  Other Books by Alex Grayson

  Other Books by Melissa Toppen

  About Alex Grayson

  About Melissa Toppen

  RYLEE

  “RYLEE, IF YOU DON’T get downstairs you’re going to be late.” My mother’s voice rings through the closed door of my bedroom, a soft knock following.

  Late. I roll my eyes, wishing I could do more than be late—like maybe skip this whole day altogether. It’s the day I’ve been dreading since I found out that her and Paul were getting married and we would be moving in with him.

  It’s not something any teenage girl wants to hear. That with a mere five months left of her senior year, she will have to leave all her friends and everything she loves to live with a man she barely knows and his intolerable son.

  Yay me.

  “Rylee. Did you hear me?” Mom knocks again.

  “I heard you,” I call back, trying really hard to keep the irritation from my voice. This isn’t Mom’s fault. Well, I guess technically it is, but how could I fault her for going after a chance to be happy? I can’t expect her to pass up on love because it’s inconvenient for me. Besides, in a few short months I will be leaving all this behind for college anyway.

  “Well, chip chop then. You don’t want to make a bad first impression,” she practically sings.

  She is way too chipper for this early in the morning.

  “Earth to Rylee. Come in Rylee,” Savannah says, reminding me there’s a phone pressed to my ear.

  “Sorry, Mom was talking to me. What were you saying?”

  “I was just saying how bad Bristol is gonna suck without you. You basically left me high and dry with no warning,” she playfully jabs—though she’s not wrong. When I’d left for winter break I’d thought I’d be back after the New Year. At that time I had no idea I would never grace the halls of Bristol High again. “Who am I going to bitch to in between classes?” she chatters on. “Who’s going to tell me when I have food stuck in my teeth, or that my makeup is smudged? Who’s going to keep me from throwing myself at Jonah every chance I get? Because you know I have zero restraint without you.”

  Savannah has been my best friend since kindergarten, and up to this point, we’ve pretty much never been apart. And while yes, thirty miles of separation isn’t the end of the world, especially since we both have cars, it feels like she’s an entire world away.

  “Don’t be dramatic. You still have Jane and Sarah,” I remind her.

  “Jane and Sarah aren’t you.”

  “Well, it could be worse. You could be walking into a school where the only person you know is your stepbrother who’s made it painfully clear he doesn’t like you and treats you like an intruder in your new home.”

  “Still hasn’t gotten any better, huh?” she asks, already knowing about the growing list of issues I have had with Oliver since we moved in last week.

  “He walked past me in the family room yesterday and didn’t sneer at me. That has to count for something, right?” I groan audibly.

  “Baby steps,” she reassures me lightheartedly. “Besides, if I know you, and I think I do, he won’t be the only person you know for long. You’ll probably have replaced me by the end of the day. Everyone loves you.”

  “One, I could never replace you—I’ve tried,” I tease. “And two, not everyone loves me. Clearly.” I tack on the last part with an eye roll.

  “Don’t let him get to you. Just do you and you’ll be fine. I know it.”

  “Thanks.” I blow out a shaky breath.

  “And if you need me to come over there and beat his ass for you, I totally will.”

  “Don’t tempt me.” I chuckle, the thought of tiny little Savannah scratching Oliver’s eyes out flashes through my mind.

  “Well, it’s a standing offer. I’m here if you need me.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” I say, figuring I need to wrap this up and get going. “I better go. Mom will kill me if I’m late for my first day of school.”

  “Okay. You’ll call me right after?”

  “I will.”

  “Love you, Ry.”

  “Love you, too.” I end the call, turning toward the floor length mirror that adorns my closet door. I run a hand through my thick brown hair, wishing it had been more cooperative this morning.

  Honestly, I look terrible. My eyes are all swollen and puffy from lack of sleep. I was so nervous about today that I tossed and turned all night and not even my favorite concealer could hide the evidence of my sleepless night.

  My gaze travels down to my pale pink top and dark skinny jeans that I partnered with my favorite pair of brown booties. It took me hours to settle on an outfit, and I still feel uncomfortable, which is very unlike me.

  I’m not used to being so unsure of myself, but this entire situation has really thrown me. It had all happened so fast. One day I’m living a normal happy life, looking forward to spending senior year with my friends and doing all the fun things that entails. The next, my mom and Paul are eloping in Fiji, and my entire world gets turned upside down. I’ve barely had time to wrap my head around it, and now here I am, facing my first day at a new school where none of my friends will be.

  Blowing out a puff of air, I turn away from my reflection and head toward the door, grabbing my book bag on the way out. I drop my cell into the front pocket before sliding the strap over my shoulder. Opening my bedroom door, I pause when Oliver opens his at the exact moment as I step into the hall. As if moving wasn’t bad enough, I got stuck with quite possibly the worst stepbrother in history. He hates that Mom and I are here.

  Before he c
an say anything snarky, I quickly turn and take off down the stairs, heading in the direction of the kitchen.

  If they had moved in with us, I wouldn’t be forced to have a bedroom directly across from a person who hates me for reasons that are completely out of my control. I can’t help that his parents divorced, or that his dad remarried within a year. None of that has anything to do with me. But I think it’s safe to say he doesn’t see it that way. Either that, or he’s taking it out on me because he knows he can’t take it out on my mom, or his dad for that matter. Not if he wants to maintain free access to his father’s money.

  Unfortunately, Mom thought Paul’s house was the more logical choice. Good school, a nice neighborhood, and closer to the hospital where she performs most of her surgeries. I get it, but it certainly doesn’t make the pill any easier to swallow.

  I walk through the foyer and down a long hallway, dropping my book bag right inside the door of the kitchen.

  “There she is.” Paul looks up from his laptop and smiles, his freshly pressed suit perfectly fitted to his broad shoulders.

  At least he’s nice to me.

  “Good morning.” I force a smile and head toward the refrigerator to grab some orange juice. I still feel so weird being here. I know it’s my home now, but I can’t help but feel on edge and uneasy, like I’m walking on eggshells all of the time.

  “Excited for your first day?” he asks.

  “I guess.” I shrug, my back to him as I retrieve a glass from the cabinet.

  “She’ll be great.” My shoulders tense at the sound of Oliver’s voice. I know he’s only saying that because he wants his father to believe he’s playing nice, but I don’t miss the hint of something dark in his tone.

  “Of course she will,” Paul agrees.

  I turn right as mom enters the kitchen; her slender frame somewhat hidden beneath unflattering scrubs—her dark hair pulled back in a ponytail.

  “Surgery today?” I ask, knowing that’s the only time Mom wears scrubs to work.

  She nods, taking the seat next to Paul where a cup of coffee is already waiting for her. This makes me smile, despite my sour mood. Paul really is good to Mom. Truthfully, it’s the only thing that makes any of this worth it—seeing the smile that slides across her face as she sits down next to her new husband.

  “Glioblastoma,” she tells me, taking a sip of her coffee.

  I nod before taking a long drink of my juice, ignoring Oliver who settles in next to me, shoving half a banana into his mouth in one bite.

  Growing up with a neurosurgeon for a mom, I’ve picked up on a few things over the years. Not that I really know what removing a glioblastoma actually entails, but I at least know what type of tumor it is.

  “Now remember, I won’t be home until late tonight, and Paul is working on a big case, so he will probably be at the office most of the evening. You’ll have to fend for yourself for dinner.”

  I swear, sometimes she treats me like I’m still ten rather than almost eighteen. I resist the urge to point out that I know how to feed myself.

  “No problem.” I nod.

  “There’s a list of menus in the top drawer over there.” Paul points toward the massive island in the center of the large eat in kitchen. “You and Oliver can order in if you want.”

  “Got it.” I nod again.

  “And don’t forget that you need to call your father today,” Mom chimes in.

  Just the mention of my dad has a tight knot forming in my chest. I love my dad, don’t get me wrong, but we don’t have the closest relationship these days. Growing up, I was always a daddy’s girl. But when he and mom divorced, everything changed. I’m lucky if I get to see him once every few months, with him being busy with his new family and all.

  I try to remind myself that I’m happy for him, but it’s hard to push past the bitterness I feel about the entire situation. Before he met Cynthia, his world revolved around me. After? Well, let’s just say he found other people to spend his time with. Mainly his new wife and their now five-year-old twin daughters.

  “I’ll see what I can do,” I tell her, finishing off my juice before setting my empty glass in the sink.

  “They’re leaving for their cruise in the morning, and I know he’d love to hear about how your first day went before they leave.”

  How could I forget—insert sarcasm. The family cruise that I wasn’t invited to go on with them.

  I bite my tongue and hold back saying what I really want to say—that he probably doesn’t even remember that today is my first day at a new school. Mom tries so hard to be the bridge between my father and me. Sometimes I want to shake her and tell her to open her big brown eyes and see what’s really going on. Dad may love me in his own way, but he stopped caring about my life a long time ago.

  “Okay,” I grumble out in agreement. I can always tell her I called but he didn’t answer if she asks later. “I’ll see you tonight when you get home.” I turn, preparing to leave.

  “Where are you going?” She stops me before I can even take a step.

  “School?” I throw her a questioning look.

  “You haven’t eaten.” She gestures to the plate of pastries and bowl of fruit sitting on the table.

  “I’m not really hungry. I’ll grab something from the cafeteria at school if I need to.” She gives me a look of disapproval but doesn’t say anything more on the subject.

  “Oliver is riding with you today,” Paul interjects, gesturing to his son. My stomach instantly drops.

  “What? Why? What’s wrong with your car?” My gaze slides to my stepbrother, and I internally cringe. Oliver isn’t a bad looking guy. Honestly, he looks just like his father, only in a younger form. He’s tall and thin with sandy blond hair, hazel eyes, and perfectly straight white teeth. He’s the epitome of a pretty boy. But I know what lies beneath the designer clothes and that perfectly put together exterior of his and it’s not a heart of gold.

  “I’m having it painted.”

  “But it’s a brand-new car.”

  “And?” He lets the question hang there for a long moment.

  Wow, okay then.

  “But I’m good.” He directs his attention back to his father. “Z is giving me a ride.”

  On that note, I turn and snag my book bag off the floor, not wanting to press my luck. “Well, I really should get going. Good luck on your surgery today,” I tell Mom, throwing up a half wave as I exit the kitchen, snagging my jacket off the coat rack on my way.

  “Have a good first day,” she calls after me as I make my way to the front door. Tugging it open, I nearly jump out of my skin when I almost collide with the tall frame standing directly on the other side.

  “Whoa,” he starts, taking a small step back, my sudden appearance surprising him as much as his did me.

  “Sorry.” I blink upward.

  The instant my eyes hit his face my jaw goes slack. He’s… he’s… he’s… Gorgeous. That’s the only word I can come up with, but it doesn’t seem to do him justice.

  Holy hell.

  Dark messy hair, square jawline, full lips. I swear, by the time I make it to his eyes I can feel the sweat forming at the nape of my neck. Crisp blue eyes—the kind of blue that makes you feel like you’re standing on the beach with the ocean waves crashing around your feet. He blinks, his thick lashes touching the tops of his cheeks and I realize I’m openly gawking.

  “You must be Oliver’s friend,” I stutter, feeling heat creep across my cheeks.

  “Zayden.” He nods.

  So this is Z?

  “I’m….” I start to introduce myself but stop when his gaze darts behind me.

  “Hey, man.” Oliver’s voice startles me seconds before he brushes past me in the doorway. “You could have texted that you were here.”

  “Yeah, left my phone at home. You ready?” His eyes sweep to mine for one more brief moment before he turns, but he doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t ask my name or say
that it was nice to meet me. Nothing. It’s like I wasn’t even standing here.

  And even though his lack of interest bothers me, I can’t stop myself from watching the way his back and shoulders flex as he walks away, the material of his dark jacket stretching against his lean, but muscular frame. I can’t help it. He’s that good looking.

  Oliver nods as he follows after his friend, stopping at the bottom of the front porch steps before turning to give me the fakest smile I think I’ve ever seen. “Have a great first day, sis,” he mocks, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

  I bite back the urge to give a retort. Not like it would do me any good. Talking to Oliver is like talking to a brick wall. I get zero reaction from him. It’s like he doesn’t find me worthy of conversing with if it doesn’t involve spouting off little insults whenever he has the chance.

  It’s been eight months since my mom and his dad started dating, but I can count on one hand how many times Oliver and I have actually spent time together. Whenever Paul would come over to our house, Oliver never came with him, and he made it clear to me the very first night we all had dinner together that he was not okay with his dad dating my mom, which automatically made me public enemy number one. I wish I could have been a fly on the wall when he found out that his dad and my mom eloped while they were vacationing in Fiji the week before Christmas.

  I wait until Oliver and Zayden disappear inside the black truck parked in front of the house before heading for my red Audi in the driveway. It was a sixteenth birthday present from my mom. She bought it used, but it still looks new. Unlike Paul does for Oliver, my mother does not just hand me the best of everything. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve definitely grown up with some of the finer things in life, but Mom has never spoiled me or bought me expensive things just because I wanted them. I bet Paul has never told Oliver no a day in his life. Then again, being one of the top attorneys in the great state of Washington, it’s not like he doesn’t have the money to spare.

  Pulling open the driver’s side door, I toss my book bag into the passenger seat and slide on my jacket before climbing inside, my earlier nerves returning full force. I consider calling Savannah again, fearing I’m at risk of fleeing the scene, but decide against it. She’s no doubt headed for school herself, and even if she did answer, what can she really say that she hasn’t already?