Wreck Me - An Enemies-to-Lovers Romance Read online

  Copyright©2020 Cassie Alexandra & Lee Mae

  Cover by: Covers by Kristen

  Warning – This book contains adult situations and language. Recommended for ages sixteen and older…

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  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

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  Prologue

  NIKKI

  I WAS RECLINING by the pool, scrolling through my social media feed on my phone, when I heard what sounded like shouting coming from inside of our Beverly Hills mansion.

  Not again.

  Rolling my eyes, I dug my earbuds out from my bag, plugged them in, and turned on my playlist. I went back to scrolling, the argument drowned out now by Harry Styles.

  My parents had been fighting almost non-stop recently. It was getting so bad that I was beginning to wonder if a divorce was on the horizon. I wasn’t psyched about the idea but, on the upside, at least the arguments would stop and I’d be treated to two Christmases. Double presents couldn’t make up for a broken home, but they were better than nothing. Plus, life at our house was becoming pretty unbearable. I just wanted peace and quiet.

  I hit the ‘like’ button on a few pics and contemplated taking a thirst trap selfie by the pool in my bikini. Before I could start posing, a text popped up on my screen. It was from Bradli.

  Hey gurl. You going to Chad’s party tomorrow night?

  As if I would miss it.

  Chad’s folks were perpetually out of town. Zurich, London, Hanoi, Tokyo. Anywhere but Beverly Hills. Which meant he had the best party spot of all the students at Augustus Academy. And that was saying something.

  The kids that went to Augustus belonged to parents who had money to burn. Tuition was upwards of fifty grand, which meant I went to school with the children of venture capitalists, tech scions, movie producers, politicians, and high-powered attorneys. But only Chad was the son of a wholesale high-end liquor distributor, so not only was his massive mansion empty of parents, but it was also filled with expensive booze.

  Yeah BB. You going with Cole?

  Cole was Bradli’s on-again, off-again boyfriend. He was one of the hottest seniors on campus, and a big pull for a junior like Bradli.

  Nah. Fuck Cole.

  What happened?

  I canceled his lame ass.

  I couldn’t help smiling. I’d been crushing on Cole since we’d been freshmen, and she’d known it. But Bradli landed him before I had a chance to make my move. Girl Code demanded that I reject him out of hand, but he was about to graduate, and time was running out. Not to mention, she hadn’t played fair, so why should I?

  Bradli’s had him long enough, I thought to myself.

  If she was going to dump him this close to prom, that was her mistake. I wasn’t about to make the same one.

  After a few more texts back and forth, I gathered my stuff and headed inside to find an appropriate outfit for tomorrow’s party. I had to look fierce if I wanted a chance at snagging Cole’s attention.

  On my way to the stairs, I couldn’t avoid my parents, who were screaming at each other in our open kitchen. They were loud enough to overpower my earbuds, so I popped one out to find out the flavor of tonight’s spat.

  “We can’t leave!” my mother shrieked. “There’s almost a month left of classes. Nicole can’t miss that much school.”

  This was definitely a pause-worthy moment.

  I grabbed a bottle of water from the refrigerator and then stood sipping it while watching things unfold.

  “We’ll figure something out when we get to the Maldives.” My father’s tone was urgent. “You’ve been saying we need a real family vacation. I’m giving you exactly what you want!”

  Mom crossed her arms under her chest and tapped her foot. “What I want is for you to stop acting like a crazy person. What’s going on with you lately? You’re out at all hours, and random lawyers keep ‘dropping by” for a chat?”

  He sighed. “Honey-”

  Her eyes narrowed. “What is this really about, Rich? And don’t expect me to believe you just wanted to take some spontaneous vacation to the Maldives to be with your family. I’ve been begging you to work less for years. Why now?”

  “Babe, I’ll explain everything when we get there,” he said, pacing, “But right now, we have to go.”

  Mom gave me a look that said, “Can you believe this guy?”

  He stopped suddenly. “I’ll grab the passports out of the safe. You and Nikki pack some bags.” He looked at me. “Don’t overdo it. Just the necessities.”

  “The Maldives?” I said, disbelieving.

  That was one of the hottest vacation spots around the globe. I could already see the blue waters as a backdrop for all my Insta pics. It was almost enough to start drooling.

  But leave tonight?

  That just wouldn’t work.

  “Can’t we wait until after finals?” I asked.

  “Afraid not, honey,” my father replied, now distracted by the buzzing of his phone. “Yeah?” he said, answering it while scrubbing his hand compulsively across his face. “You’re kidding.” My father dropped his two-thousand-dollar iPhone like it was garbage and scrambled for the TV remote. “Where did you put the damn remote?” He began tossing decorative throw pillows around the family room.

  “Just tell Siri, Dad.” I strode closer to the smart speaker. “Siri, turn on the TV.”

  The smart TV burst to life, and my Dad shouted at Siri to turn on the news. Then he sank down onto the couch, his attention riveted to the screen.

  As we watched, men were shown walking out of my father’s office with boxes in their hands. “The offices of prominent hedge fund manager Richmond Easton were raided by the Federal Bureau of Investigation moments ago. Charges were just leveled against Easton, who is accused of swindling investors out of millions in an elaborate Ponzi scheme.”

  My mouth dropped open and my mother started to cry. That’s when I realized it was all real.

  Panicking, my father leapt from the couch, his face pale as chalk. “Pack a bag as fast as you can. We’re out of here in fifteen minutes. No excuses. Now go!”

  I jerked, then took off running for the stairs, my heart pounding so hard I could barely hear anything else. I’d just reached the bottom of the steps when I heard a pounding at the front door.

  “This is the Federal Bureau of Investigations. Open the door!”

  My knees gave out and my bottom landed hard on the wooden step. No one answered the door, so the FBI took it as invitation to break the lock. A gang of men in body arm
or burst in and I screamed, unable to help myself.

  AN HOUR LATER, I sat at the kitchen table with my mother while agents crawled over every inch of the house. They’d already taken Dad away in handcuffs, and we were to stay here while FBI agents helped themselves to anything they considered evidence against my father.

  “I can’t believe this is happening,” Mom said as they searched through our kitchen, her eyes red from crying.

  Neither could I.

  Trembling, I leaned back in my chair and pulled out my phone, needing to focus on something other than the impending collapse of my entire life.

  After a couple minutes, I regretted it. My feed was full of mentions of my father’s arrest. And people were not being kind.

  How did someone manage to Photoshop my head on a prison jumpsuit already?

  I scrolled and scrolled; I couldn’t help myself. News of my dad was everywhere. And it was clear that folks at my high school thought I was just as bad as he allegedly was. In the space of a few hours, I’d gone from the in crowd to social pariah. Even Bradli wasn’t returning my texts.

  My hands shook like crazy as I put my phone screen-side down on the table. When I finally found my voice, I looked at my mother, who was blowing her nose. “What’s going to happen now?”

  “I don’t know,” she said after a minute. Not exactly the answer I was hoping for.

  “Did he really do all of those things? Is Dad going to prison?”

  It was so hard to believe that my own father could have committed the crimes he was being accused of. All I could think about now was the man who used to give me piggy-back rides and call me his “little princess”. He was the last person in the world I’d ever expect to steal money.

  Her face crumbled again and she let out a loud sob.

  I couldn’t take it anymore. My brain was melting down, my body feeling weak. I shoved the ear buds back into my ears and turned on some Lady Gaga. Closing my eyes, it was almost possible to pretend my life hadn’t just exploded in my face.

  Almost.

  1

  ZACK

  I WOKE UP on my own, just as the sun was rising, and stared at the swirls in the ceiling. I wasn’t looking forward to school and almost wished that I would have decided on a GED instead of going back. But I was registered and just couldn’t bring myself to go the easy way out.

  Like my old man…

  Sighing, I got out of bed, took a quick shower, and headed into the kitchen. Mom was already there, sitting at the small dinette and staring listlessly out the window.

  I squeezed her shoulder. “Morning.”

  She didn’t answer.

  I grabbed a pan and then the eggs and butter out of the refrigerator.

  “You want any toast?” I asked over my shoulder.

  Again, no response.

  “Yes, Zack. That would be wonderful,” I said, mimicking her and trying to get a smile. Unfortunately, there wasn’t even a twitch of her lips.

  I didn’t take it personally. It was what it was.

  After unintentionally burning the toast, I put a plate of food in front of her and then poured us both some orange juice. I sat down next to her and began shoveling food into my mouth, not tasting anything. “School starts today,” I said, hoping to break her out of her funk. “Senior year. Part two. Gotta love it.”

  Still, Mom showed no reaction to my words. She had yet to even pick up her fork. Every day the tension at the breakfast table seemed to get worse. By the afternoon, the antidepressants, her doctor prescribed, kicked in and she was more human than zombie. But the mornings were steeped in grief darker than the tea Mom used to drink with her breakfast.

  Sighing, I finished my breakfast and then dumped her cold eggs and toast into the compost bin.

  “See you after school,” I said, slipping my pack over one shoulder.

  Still, she didn’t bother to look in my direction.

  “Bye.”

  I locked the door behind me and headed to my car, relieved to be out of the house. Sometimes I just wanted to leave for good and never return. Escape the past. The memories. The pain. It was all so suffocating at times. But, I couldn’t. My mother needed me and I wasn’t going to abandon her. Hell no.

  I slid into the leather seats of the old Chevy Nova I had inherited and started the car. The rumble of the engine no longer gave me that jolt of excitement it used to. Dad and I had spent last summer tinkering on the classic car, bringing it slowly back to life.

  The car still lived on.

  My dad… he was no longer with us.

  I turned on some music and headed down the road, wishing I had enough time to grab some coffee. I was tired and knew that the moment I walked into school, everyone would ask what I was doing there. Unfortunately, I was supposed to have graduated last year but had missed too many classes during the second semester. It had left me with not enough credits to graduate. Now, most of my friends were about to start their college careers, and I was headed back to Valley High for another year of torture.

  2

  NIKKI

  WHEN THE ALARM went off that morning, I almost threw my phone out the window. Then I remembered I was sleeping in a crappy twin bed in a shitty two-bedroom apartment in the Valley. The sheets were so thin, they probably didn’t even have a thread count.

  No reason to stay in bed.

  The sun streamed through the cheap white blinds on what passed for windows in this prison cell. Standing, I made my way into the only bathroom. There wasn’t even a tub. Just a shower about the size of an old-school phone booth. No double vanity. No full-length mirror.

  I can’t believe people actually live like this.

  I was just starting my shower when my mother stuck her head into the bathroom. “I’m leaving for work,” she said, making me jump in surprise.

  “Wait!” I said, shoving my head around the tacky plastic shower curtain. “How am I supposed to get to school?”

  “I told you yesterday. You’re supposed to take the bus.”

  I stared at her in horror. “I thought you were joking! The bus, Mom?”

  “I’m not going to be late to work every day just to drive you to high school, Nicole,” my mother said in the tone of voice that always made me want to clench my teeth. “I need this job, and my boss doesn’t like it when people are late.”

  “Fine,” I said, admitting defeat. Showing up to my senior year on public transport, instead of in the new Mercedes my father had promised me, was fitting I supposed. Since I was sure the high school I was now enrolled in would be the dirty crowded bus equivalent. Although I hadn’t set foot there yet, I knew Valley High couldn’t hold a candle to Augustus.

  Still, I dressed to impress. I didn’t have a walk-in closet full of hundreds of designer outfits anymore, as most of my clothes had been seized to be sold at auction, just like our furniture, cars, and properties. My mother and I had only been allowed to keep a few personal possessions, so my wardrobe was much smaller. But I’d managed to stash away a few of my favorite pieces, and I relied on them now to put together something appropriate.

  Walking back into the kitchen, I let out a sigh. There was no housekeeper to make breakfast, or to pack my lunch for school. Mom was too busy working long hours as a personal assistant to some megalomaniac businessman who called her all hours of the day and night. No more time for long lunches with her friends, or shopping trips to New York City on a whim. Now Mom did what she had to in order to keep food in the fridge. Not that there was much of it, I noticed when I pulled open the door and peered inside. Sighing, I grabbed a yogurt and headed out the door.

  The sun was already high and I missed the climate-controlled comfort of Mom’s Range Rover. Not that we had the Rover anymore. Mom was now rolling around in a two-door coupe that was as old as I was. But even showing up to school in that would have been better than having to take the bus.

  The bus stop was on a corner, the bench occupied by a man who smelled so strongly that I tucked my nose into my shirt. I p
ulled out my phone, but hesitated before I tapped the social media app icon. I’d deactivated my profiles shortly after my father had been sentenced to prison, mostly because of the hate my former friends had been spewing. In the last three months, people I’d spent ages with, shopping, partying, hanging out, they’d all turned their backs on me.

  Even Brandli.

  That had hurt the most. We’d been best friends for years and she’d basically ghosted me. I guess it shouldn’t have surprised me too much. She was the most popular girl at Augustus and wouldn’t risk losing that status by staying friends with a felon’s daughter. It wasn’t fair. My father might be guilty of bilking people out of their money, but I wasn’t.

  At least I knew who my true friends were. Which was basically nobody. And, sadly, I was getting used to it.

  In fact, I realized - after the arrest - that I’d spent most of my time on social media, showing off my perfect life. Now that life was gone, and anything that might have been perfect about it… no longer existed. My new life, well, there certainly wasn’t anything Instagrammable about it.

  Still, it was a hard habit to break.

  In moments like these, when anxiety felt like a herd of buffalo standing upon my chest, I wanted so badly to log back in, to see what my old world was up to. The past few months had been all FOMO, and I knew that the more I looked, the deeper the depression became. But the temptation was still there, almost like a drug. It sometimes made me wish that the internet and social media had never been invented. This feeling of missing out sometimes ate me up inside.

  The bus arrived before I clicked on any of the apps I’d previously kept open 24-7. Saving me from myself.

  Climbing inside, I looked for a seat that seemed relatively clean, and sat down. As I gazed out the window, I thought about what my plans for senior year used to be.

  Going to Homecoming with my girls, dressed to the nines. Touring colleges and deciding which Ivy League to join. Being part of the Prom Court, maybe even queen. Generally ruling the school until graduation.