Bully King - J.A. Huss Page 0,17
on students from the safety of the woods all these years—she’s not.
It’s an act.
She doesn’t belong here and everyone knows it.
If she had gone to Prep like the rest of us, instead of being homeschooled by her mother all these years, she would’ve adapted. Conformed to one group or the other. She would know her place.
But she didn’t go to Prep. And she doesn’t know her place.
And yet she is here. Has always been here.
She’s moving into my house today. Like… what the fuck?
Why?
Maybe that’s what my father wants? To put her in her place?
I would be more than happy to knock Cadee Hunter down a few rungs. She holds a secret of mine. And even though outsiders think that money is what drives us, that’s simply not true.
Secrets. That’s the currency of the über-rich. We deal in secrets.
And she’s flush with secrets right now.
This has to be why my father has taken such an interest in her. There is no other logical explanation for why he’s keeping her around and forcing me to stay here this summer.
He has a secret of mine now too.
He knows. He has to know.
I swing the boat sideways and splash what amounts to a small tidal wave over the dock out in front of our family mansion. Lars jumps out before we’ve even settled, and Ax hands him the rope to tie up the boat.
I turn and point to Cadee. “Do not give me any trouble. Hear me? Let’s go.”
She opens her mouth to protest, but I grab her by the arm and tug her to the side of the boat. Lars reaches for her, pulls her out, and then we’re walking down the dock towards the house.
The side of the mansion facing Monrovian Lake is technically considered the back of the house, but it’s really the only side that counts. The only side people can see. The side meant to impress. And in that respect, it does its job.
The Valcourt Mansion was first built in 1821. Of course, it didn’t look like this. I’ve seen photographs from as far back as 1832 and while I’m sure it was nice for the time, I would not call it stylish—an imposing Tudor made of dark gray stone with the characteristic half-timbers on the second floor filled in with dark gray stucco.
I love this house. I have always loved this house. And when I was a kid it made me feel like a king—or at least a prince—because the elaborate gables, severely-pitched roofline, arched doorways, and stone chimneys really do make it look like a castle.
The real front of the house is on the other side facing the narrow black-top road that weaves through the forest of old sugar maples and tall tulip trees. But this is a gated neighborhood of only two dozen sprawling mansions that all face the lake like our place. So no one gets to see that side, except for the kids in the club.
I drag Cadee through the high archway that leads to the main door and hold it open to let everyone pass through before closing it behind me.
“This way,” I say, once again grabbing Cadee by the upper arm. I’m late. There’s no way to fix that. I just want to tick this task off my list and forget about Cadee Hunter until I’m forced to consider her again.
I drag her down the long hallway that leads to the guest suite at the end of the southeast wing and then throw open the door to the suite and shove her inside.
“Stand right here.” I push her until she’s in the middle of the room and then take out my phone to snap a pic. I send it to my father via text message.
He replies a few seconds later with the message: That took forty-seven minutes.
I don’t reply. Fuck him. Deed done. Task over. “Listen to me very carefully, Cadee Hunter.”
She’s looking around the room. Taking it all in. But when I snap at her, she finds my gaze. “What?”
I point at her. “Stay here. Do not leave this room. If I see you in the hallways, or the kitchen, or anywhere inside my fucking house but this room right here, I will end you. Understand me?” I don’t wait for her answer. I just turn around and start heading back to the other side of the house.
Ax and Lars didn’t follow us. They’re probably in the kitchen.
“Wait!” Cadee calls. “What am I supposed to do here?”
“Don’t ask me,” I