BAD WICKED TWISTED: A Briarcrest Academy Box Set (91 page)

“WELCOME TO LYONS Place,” said Mrs. Smythe with a flourish as she led me back to her office.

I gazed around at the orphanage, taking in the freshly painted walls in the foyer and the staff who milled around. I got a good vibe from the place, and it put a spring in my step. For once, I was doing something I wanted, not something Harry Goldberg, my new Hollywood agent, had recommended. He was all about the social aspect of my career—especially Blair—and that was essential, but I also wanted to do something that was just for me. Something relevant.

A wiry janitorial lady loaded down with cleaning supplies and pushing a mop bucket stopped me for my autograph. She fumbled around in the pockets of her uniform and pulled out a piece of notepaper. Her hands shook. “Sebastian Tate! Good God, my daughter will go nuts when she sees this. Thank you!” She beamed at me.

I signed it and handed it back. “No problem. Anytime.” Feeling nostalgic, I leaned in and gave her a quick hug. Truth was she kinda reminded me of my own mom, Rachel, who’d died fifteen years ago. She’d been a hardworking lady too, spending her days at a local LA diner to contribute to the family. Dad had been a musician, and her extra tip money had come in handy.

The cleaning lady left whistling, and I followed Mrs. Smythe into her office and sat down in a leather chair. Petite and fiftyish, she sent me a cool businesslike smile. I got the impression she wasn’t impressed with my star power. “Well. I was shocked to get your email and then your persistent phone messages about your interest here. It’s not everyday we get requests from celebrities offering their services. Money, yes, but not their actual time, Mr. Tate—”

I sent her my best charming smile. “Call me Sebastian, please.”

“Okay,” she said on a blush and then cleared her throat. “To tell you about us, we’re a new facility focused on the arts with a heavy emphasis on music. We house a hundred kids here, with plans to develop it further in the future.”

I nodded. I’d read up on the place on the internet after I’d seen the sign going up one day on my way to the music studio. Black and gold, the signage had caught my eye because of the lion on it. He was standing on his hind legs and roaring—just like a family crest. I’d had a thing for lions since my sister-in-law Nora called me one. Long story short, she tended to match people up with animals. A lot. For example, my brother, Leo, was a tiger, Mila was a bunny, and I was the lion of the family because of my great hair and general awesomeness. I was the king of the jungle—or at least the king of Hollywood. Anyway, it was my family nickname. I even had a tribal lion tattooed across my shoulder and down my back.

She continued. “Our students—orphans—are teens. Most are from poverty backgrounds and face underlying emotional issues such as ADHD or Autism. Some even have past drug problems. Some are recently orphaned and others have been in the system since birth. I guess what I’m trying to say is each child is different and hand selected by our board of directors and benefactor, who prefers to remain anonymous.” She sighed and tapped a pen on her desk. “To be honest, I am still trying to figure out what to do with you. Is there a particular reason you chose us?”

I’d gripped the chair while she talked, my past pricking at my heart. Sure the sign had captured my attention, but there was also a piece of me that remembered my own gangster neighborhood and how I’d lost my parents. That was the part of me that wanted to give back and be part of this community. I wanted roots here, and what better way than investing myself.

“Lots of reasons. I’m an LA boy at heart … I grew up here. When I was eight, I lost my parents to a junkie who shot them in a carjacking.” I took in a shaky breath and let it out slowly, remembering the fallout from that day. “I saw it happen. I—I was on the porch waving goodbye just as they pulled out. This guy came running up—got in the car with them … and killed them.” My throat got full, and I lifted my hands and scrubbed my face. “Sorry—for getting emotional. Sometimes it feels like it was just yesterday.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, her face softening. “I had no idea.”

I nodded. “It was a hard time for my family, and we had some lean years until my brother Leo made money in gym ownership.”

“Your story is similar to some of the kids here, Mr. Tate, except you’re rich and famous now.” She smiled. “Why do you think you’d enjoy helping?”

I cleared my throat, anxious to make a good impression. “People assume I grew up with a silver spoon in my mouth, but that’s not the case. My brother gave up his own music career to stay with me. I remember hating him sometimes, you know, because he wasn’t my mom or dad—or because all he could cook was popcorn and pizza.” I laughed at those memories. “But I wouldn’t be the person I am if it wasn’t for him.”

She gave me a considering look, mulling me over. “There’s nothing like family. You’re luckier than most.”

“Yes.”

She let out a sigh. “The truth is we’re selective about who comes in to work with our kids, but I like your story—and your sincerity. I also think the kids would love to hear you speak to them—maybe play a song. We’ve had a few musicians come in for little concerts, mostly classical, so you’d be quite the treat.”

“I’d be honored.” An idea struck. “Maybe I could teach some classes on how to play the guitar—kinda like my dad taught me. Sorry if I’m being presumptuous, I’m not even a real teacher, but I think I’d be good.” I leaned forward and smiled broadly. “I do have a sparkling personality, Mrs. Smythe.”

She let out a laugh and blushed. Score.

I settled back. “Or, if you just need a volunteer to work the lunch line one day or clean the hallways, I’d be proud to do whatever you need.” Truth.

She tapped her fingers on the desk. “Just so you know, we don’t cater to the media here. No reporters are allowed inside our facility and we don’t link our names with celebrities. Whatever work you do here will be confidential.”

I nodded. I got what she was saying. “I don’t have an ulterior motive for this. I can assure you, this isn’t about me putting on a show or getting attention. This is for me alone. I could have been one of those kids.”

She seemed to come to a decision about me and stood. “Great. I’ll give our calendar a look and see where we can fit you in. No doubt, you’re going to cause quite a stir here. I’ll call you and let you know.”

We shook hands and for the first time in a long time, maybe since I’d left Dallas behind all those years ago, I felt like I was
home
. I couldn’t put my finger on exactly what stirred my heart—maybe it was holding Violin Girl’s hand or maybe it was knowing that I was doing something worthwhile that wasn’t about
me
.

Whatever it was, it felt damn good.

A FEW DAYS later, I woke up at one in the morning.

Violin Girl was on my mind. Constantly. She hadn’t played for me since the ice cream fiasco, and frustration rode me. I’d spent three wasted nights out on the patio waiting for her to appear. Spider had even tried to get me to go clubbing with him and Mila, but I’d stayed home. Blair had insisted I take her to dinner, but I’d made up an excuse about working on some music. I was obsessed with hearing her play. Seeing her.

I thought back to the ice cream shop. There was no doubt Violin Girl had been angry with me when she stomped out. The question was—why? Was it because she was attracted to me and was jealous of Blair? Like me, did she feel the current between us—as if some invisible, electric wire connected us? I shoved a hand through my hair.

Did I want
her
or her music? I didn’t know.

The sound of music caught my ears, and I immediately shot out of bed and headed for the window and pulled back the curtains. I opened the window. Shit. Had she been playing late at night so I wouldn’t see her?

I picked up the binoculars from my nightstand and put them to my face.

What I saw made me groan.

Bathed in moonlight, she stood with her violin in hand. Her red robe swished around her body as she manipulated the strings with her bow. Staccato yet delicate notes reached my ears, the sound heartbreakingly beautiful as if an ethereal creature was whispering in my ear. Inhaling sharply, I strained forward, recognizing Verve’s “Bitter Sweet Symphony”, one of my all-time favorite songs. Her music captured me, wrapped me up, and I stood there wishing she were in front of me, wishing I could just touch her.

She angled her body to face my house, the small part in her robe teasing me. Her pale skin gleamed, the soft rise of her breasts visible. I immediately took a step back from the window.
Dammit.
I’d been deluding myself. This may have started out as music, but I realized it was so much more. Cloaked in her dark sounds, she was everything I never knew I wanted, but I didn’t like how it made me feel.

Out of control. Yearning for something that wasn’t safe.

Yet, as if my feet had a life of their own, they took me back to the window where I watched her end the piece with a long slow note.

She took her bow.

She flourished her hands.

I held my breath, waiting to see what was next.

She didn’t tease me. She threw her shoulders back and dropped the robe, letting it pool at her feet as blood rushed through my veins. Like a beautiful, life-sized alabaster statue, she was fucking mesmerizing. My eyes went over every inch of her skin, imagining the cool air hitting her nipples, imagining that she said my name, even though she didn’t even know it.

I clutched the binoculars so tight I was afraid they’d snap in two.

Naked.

Without boundaries. Without shame.

With my necklace on.

Beautiful. Defiant.

She’d
wanted
me to see her. And part of me thrilled at this little game we played.

Then she raised her head and stared across the shrubs, straight into the darkness where I waited.

She’d set out to torture me. Her breasts looked heavy as she cupped them, her fingers drifting over her tits. She tossed her head back and in my head, she moaned, imagining me with my fingers between her legs, entering her, teasing her. Lust hammered into me at the image, and I growled in my throat, hard, ready for her. I shoved my hands in my underwear and fisted my cock, but the action was cold. Empty. I wanted nothing but the kind of release that came from driving into her.

That’s it
. Enough.

I tossed down the binoculars and grabbed my jeans and slid them on, dashing out of the room without a shirt, although I did put my feet in flip-flops.

I ran out the back patio door and made it halfway to her house before it hit me.

What made me think she wanted to see me?

Better yet
, what was I going to do with her after I coaxed her into my bed?
There’d be a fallout because she was my neighbor; there’d be no walking away from her the next day, and the scary part was I didn’t know if I’d want to.

Even though being with her might be the end of
me
.

I came to a stop, indecision riding me as I battled myself. Images of her flitted through my head, the arch of her neck, the curve of her waist, the way her hands had moved over her body—

But she was a fantasy. She could practically be in another dimension for all it mattered. Sure I wanted to have the soulmate kind of love that Leo and Nora had—that was part of the reason I wanted a real home—but my dreams came first. Not this need for a girl.

With a groan and a few choice curse words, I spun around and headed back to the house.

I came to a surprised halt when I found Spider and Mila sitting out on lounge chairs, dressed in swimming clothes. I guess they’d come out after I left.

“Kinda late for a swim, isn’t it?” I snapped.

They both startled, eyes big as I strode over and plopped down next to them. Monster immediately jumped up to lay on my chest. I scratched her on the head and sighed heavily. Maybe I needed to jump in the water. Cool off my libido.

“Never too late to hang with friends,” Mila said in a cheery tone, eyeing me warily.

Spider just shrugged at me and set down his Jack and Coke, his eyes glued to the pink one-piece swimsuit Mila was sporting.

Whoa. I sat up straighter. It’s like this. Mila’s a straight-as-an-arrow-never-said-the-word-fuck kind of girl. She was not my style—and definitely not Spider’s. She’s our employee and friend, and we’d agreed a long time ago that she was off limits. In fact, Nora had promised she’d kick me in the nuts if Mila got her heart broken out here.

So why was Spider picking her up and tossing her in the pool with his hands all over her ass? She certainly seemed to enjoy it, shrieking and squirming with her arms wrapped around his neck.

My eyes darted between the two of them.
Were they—?
Nah. That was impossible. Because
if
he was messing with her—I’d fucking kill him, and he knew it.

They continued to frolic like two school kids, and I got antsy. I needed to get out of here. Get a breather. “Wanna go for a walk, baby girl?” I cooed at Monster, who’d been nipping at my fingers for attention. She gave me a doggy grin and yipped a yes.