Her Shame: A Dark Bully Romance (The Forgotten Elites Book 1) by Eden Beck

Author:Eden Beck [Beck, Eden]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-02-18T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seventeen

Saturday morning comes and Bridget knocks on the door of my room. Even though I’m expecting it, it doesn’t stop the pit from tightening in my stomach.

“Oh good, her highness is here,” Alaska snarks.

“Please just be nice, I don’t want to deal with any drama,” I say, straightening up from where I’ve been stuffing a few things into a duffle bag to take with me. It feels more like I’m preparing to be hauled off the prison than to a beach day with some supposed new friends.

Alaska just shoots me a look. “I never would have gone to lunch with my parents on Friday if I’d known it would mean you’d go running straight into Bridget’s clutches,” she says, not even trying to keep her voice quiet enough that she won’t be overheard. “Seriously, how did that happen?”

I grit my teeth and say, “She’s not all that bad once you get past all the glitter.”

Just like I practiced.

It doesn’t stop Alaska from rolling her eyes, but it does keep her from asking any more prying questions. Which right now is all I can hope for.

I open the door and Bridget walks in with her distinctive sway. “You ready?”

“Yep,” I reply, shouldering my bag and nodding toward the door. I want to get out of here as quickly as possible, before either Bridget or Alaska unsheathes their respective claws.

“Alright, let’s go.” She says with a hurried wave.

“Stay away from the water! I hear girls like you may melt!” Alaska calls after us.

Bridget either doesn’t hear or pretends not to hear.

“This is a spectacular little spot, a private patch of beach in front of Daddy’s summer home. Just the relaxation we all need after these brutal classes,” she gushes as we step out of Mason House and into sunshine and unusually warm weather for this time of year.

We arrive at the front of the school where a white convertible is parked—probably driven up here by one of their butlers. They seem like the type to have butlers. Or drivers. Though I see no sign of either lingering around the grounds. Warren is in the driver’s seat and Chase and Sterling are sitting in the back. Bridget hops in the front passenger seat, and as she does so, I swear I see a look pass between the three boys.

It’s a look I’ve come to know well.

I’m not welcome.

But though I’m sure Bridget sees that look too, she makes no move to acknowledge it.

“You can squeeze back in the middle, right Aubrey? You’re the smallest,” she says, jabbing her thumb back to the only seat left in the car.

I slide into the backseat between Chase and Sterling, which is so tight that we’re all pressing hips and arms together.

“Didn’t know you were tagging along, Stoner Girl,” Chase says. “Bridget need someone to count her calories for her?”

“Zip it, Chase,” Bridget yells back, but I see the way her eyes flicker between me and Sterling pressed up against my other side.

So the game begins.

With that, Warren presses the pedal down and we speed off away from Ridgecrest.

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