Sick Boys: A Dark Bully RH Romance (Spine Ridge University)

I’m sweating like crazy already, and I haven’t even gotten to the dinner part of the night.

God, how does he do this every single time?

I was almost hoping he would actually go through with it.

I swallow away the lump in my throat and adjust my dress again, which got all scrunched up from the way Felix just casually swiped his finger along my pussy. But worst of all is the fact that I was already wet, and he fucking knew.

Fuck that fucking arrogant smug face of his.

I really have to stop letting him get to me. Even though I know, deep down, he’s as right about me as I am about him. The people you hate are the people who know you the best, and that’s exactly why you hate them.

I sigh out loud and make my way to the property’s gate.

The place is giant and opulent. Not that I’m amazed, considering who Dylan’s parents are and what they do. Not their real jobs, but the secret society hiding behind it is what brings in all the money. I don’t need to see it in action to know it’s happening right under our noses. Half of the people who go to Spine Ridge U are family of criminals.

I walk through the rose garden along the pebble path up to the big road where a ton of cars are parked underneath an open garage. A lady stands at the front door smiling happily.

“Welcome back, Mr. Caruso!”

“Hi,” he says awkwardly, as he sneaks past her as quick as he can. How unlike him.

“And hello, Mr. King and Mr. Rivera.”

“Save it,” Felix barks as he walks past her.

The lady’s face looks like she’s just stood in the snow for an hour.

I glower at Alistair, who simply shrugs. “That’s him.”

Does he have to be such a asshole to everyone, though?

We go inside the mansion, and I gawk at all the beautiful tapestries, the vintage paintings and artwork scattered through the hallway, and all the expensive-looking wines in the back. Dylan’s father is a collector, that’s for sure.

“Welcome, welcome,” a voice calls from the back. Dylan’s father approaches us with a big smile. “Your mom’s already finished dinner, so we’re just waiting on you in the dining room.”

“Mom finished dinner?” Dylan scoffs. “We have cooks for that.”

“Dylan,” his father warns and leans in, “do not insult your mother.”

He rolls his eyes. “I’m just surprised. That’s all. Can’t wait.”

Dylan passes by his father as if he’s got a stick up his ass.

“What’s with him?” I whisper to Alistair.

“He hates family things. Don’t ask.”

“I can’t wait to taste all the amazing dishes she created,” Lana tells Dean Caruso, and it makes his face beam.

“Thank you. At least someone’s excited,” he says, and he beckons us back to the room. “Let’s go inside.”

We follow Dean Caruso to the room, but I bump into Felix on the way, who’s stopped midway through the doorway.

“Felix …” A low voice emanates from the room beyond, and I peek over his shoulder to see a man sitting behind a large dinner table, his chiseled face outlined by thick, black stubble, hair slick and combed back, eyes narrow and partially blocked by a pair of glasses, his posture self-assured. Completely the opposite of Felix in every way, yet that voice sounds … similar.

Felix clears his throat. “Dad.”

Aha.

Wow, I did not see that one coming. They don’t even look alike.

Felix marches over to the opposite side of the room and parks his ass down on a chair as far away as possible, and it makes me so goddamn curious as to why.

“Welcome, welcome, everyone,” a lady says as she waltzes in through the door in the back of the room carrying two big plates filled with delicious food. Her black hair is tied into a curly knot, and a small but extravagant hat sits on top. That must be Dylan’s mom. “Food’s almost ready. You can sit wherever you like. Feel free to make yourselves at home!”

“Thank you, Mrs. Caruso,” Lana says.

Mrs. Caruso has a bright smile. Her face looks almost pristine, and it almost makes me want to ask her about her skincare routine.

“That looks lovely, Jeong-Suk,” Felix’s father says as she puts down the plates.

“Oh, this isn’t even half of what I have prepared,” she muses, giggling. “C’mon everyone, sit, sit!”

Alistair and Dylan find a seat near Dylan’s father, but I can’t help but swerve to Felix’s side and sit down beside him.

“So that guy is actually your dad?” I ask.

“What about it?” Felix grabs a knife and starts twiddling with it.

“Nothing. I’m just … surprised.”

“Surprised?” He side-eyes me.

“Well, you two look nothing alike,” I reply.

“No.” He turns around again, like he’s trying to avoid having to even talk to anyone, let alone me.

“He’s all by himself. Shouldn’t we sit next to him?” I ask.

“No thanks.”

Wow. Cold.

“You don’t like your dad?” I ask.

He turns to me again, his nostrils flaring. “Does it matter?”

I shrug. “I don’t know.”

“I’d much rather sit here,” he says. “Where it’s quiet.”

I look at the man again as he’s tasting some of the snacks Mrs. Caruso put out, like the crispy fried cookies covered with peanuts and honey glaze. “He doesn’t look like the type to get ignored by his son.”

“You really wanna go there?” Felix says through gritted teeth.

“Are you always this cold?” I rebuke.

“Talk to Dylan if you want the heat,” he retorts.

I ignore his obvious taunt. “Did your father come here all by himself? Where’s your mom?”

Suddenly, he punctures the table with the knife. “Do not. Speak. About my mother.”

Everyone looks at us.

Literally, everyone.

And it’s gone so quiet I can hear my own heartbeat.

“Felix, not at the table. Please.” His father smiles. “We’re guests at a friend’s house.”

Felix’s face contorts, and he rips the knife out of the table only to scoot back and march off.

“Jesus,” I mutter.

“Ignore him, it’s sensitive,” Lana says as she hovers over my seat. “He hates these kinds of family things. Reminds him too much of something we don’t have.”

She smiles before following Felix outside.

“Sorry,” I say to everyone at the table.

“It’s fine,” Dean Caruso says. “Let’s just keep the spirits up.”

Mrs. Caruso walks in on her high heels with even more plates. “Dinnertime!”

Everyone starts talking again as she puts down copious amounts of food, and my mouth begins to water at the sight. Two hot pots on the table are filled with broth along with all sorts of meats and vegetables, as well as dipping sauces. And my favorite, Kimchi.

I take some leaves and put on some veggies and Kimchi and roll it up into a ball before shoving it into my mouth.

“Goddamn, this is delicious,” I murmur.

Mrs. Caruso laughs. “I thought I’d need to explain how it works, but I see you’ve already got the hang of it.”

“I had a Korean friend when I grew up who invited me to her house for dinner so many times. Well, I invited myself over.”

Everyone laughs.

“Sounds like you, all right,” Dylan jests as he takes some of the meat and dunks it into the hot pot.

Every bite is delicious. “Oh my God, I love this.”

Mrs. Caruso chortles. “Well, I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself. What was your name again? I didn’t quite catch it.”

“Penelope,” I reply.

“Penelope … what?”

The whole room goes quiet for a second.

“Richards,” I mutter between slurping some of the broth in my bowl.

I swallow when everyone looks at me.

“And how did you meet my son again?” Dylan’s father asks.

I put my spoon down. “Well … I, uh …”

Why does it feel like I’m being interrogated all of a sudden?

“We helped her with a couple of bullies,” Dylan muses, putting some wrapped leaves filled with meat and sauce on his father’s plate. “Now eat. You’re scaring her away with all your questions.”

“Oh, nonsense,” Mrs. Caruso says. “I’m so glad she’s here.”

I take another sip of the soup before they decide to kick me out because it’s just too good.

“I finally get to meet my son’s girlfriend.”

I spit out almost half a spoon all over the table.

Now everyone looks at me like I’ve made a scene. And maybe I have. I mean, half my plate is covered with broth.

I grasp a paper towel and rub it all over. “Sorry.”

Mrs. Caruso looks surprised. “So you’re not his girlfriend?”

“Mom!” Dylan gasps. “You know I don’t …” He makes a sign with his hand in front of his neck to make her quit.

Good God, this is embarrassing.

“Oh, right, you don’t do that,” she muses, waving her hand around. “You’re ‘flexible.’” She makes air quotes.

“Flexible,” his father parrots, and a bulky laugh follows. “Just say you’re a player and deal with it.”

“Dad …” Dylan rolls his eyes. “Do we really have to do this now?” He grabs more meat. “I just want to eat Mom’s lovely dinner.”

“Aw,” his mom gloats, and she immediately runs over to his chair and gives him a big fat kiss on the cheek.

Lana and Felix come back into the room and they sit back down again, breaking the awkward spell. I wonder if they talked in private.

“So what is it that you do, Mrs. Caruso?” I ask, trying to be nice. “I know Dylan’s father is head of Spine Ridge.”

“Oh, I work in finance,” she mumbles. “I also do some work for our trust, which regulates some of the funds that go into the school.”

“Ah, so you’re both part of the board that runs it?”

She looks up at me like she’s surprised I even know about it.

“Interesting,” Dylan’s father says like I’m saying something suspicious.

“I just wanted to know everything about Spine Ridge before I started studying there.”

“An eager student,” Felix’s father says.

“You’re on the same board too, if I’m not mistaken,” I tell him. “I saw a photo with all the members on the website.”

“Correct,” he replies, adjusting his tie.

Lana clears her throat. “Dad’s also the owner of a luxurious brand of clubs called—”

“RIVERA,” I fill in.

“I’m impressed,” Felix’s father says, narrowing his eyes. “You’ve clearly done your research.”

Felix grabs my knee under the table and squeezes so tightly that I struggle to even breathe. “Stop,” he whispers into my ear. His hand slides up just a little, but enough for me to break out into a sweat. “Before I make you.”

“So you’re studying business then?” Felix’s father asks me.

I nod. “It wasn’t my dream education, but I wanted to honor my sister’s legacy after her death.”

It’s almost as if she suddenly rose from the dead. That’s how quiet it is at this table.

“Can you pass some of the Kimchi?” Alistair asks Lana after a moment to break the ice.

She rolls her eyes and casually hands him the plate without even looking at him.

“Thanks, L,” Alistair says with a grin.

“L?” Lana grimaces. “No. Fuck no.”

“Lana,” her father warns. “No swearing at the table.”

She grumbles to herself. “This is why I hate these kinds of parties.”

“Why? Just because they use it to grill the new girl?” Dylan jests.

It becomes hard to swallow.

“Relax,” he muses. “I’m just messing with you.”

“Of course you are, D,” Lana retorts, narrowing her eyes at him. Then she turns to glare at me. “It’s not a joke. They want to know what you’re doing with them. And I want to know what you’re doing with my brother.”

“What?” I mutter, completely confused where this is all coming from.

“He’s never been this obsessed over anyone, so spill,” she says, jamming her fork into the meat on my plate before shoving it into her mouth. “You can either talk, or I’ll use force.”

Suddenly, a knife is thrown across the room and pierces the wall behind Lana.

“Don’t.” Felix’s dark voice makes me turn to look at him.

The whole room contains so much tension that I’m starting to wonder if we’re having a dinner party or a brawl to the death.

Felix’s father puts down his fork and knife and stares at Felix with a disappointed look. “What did I just say about this?” When Felix doesn’t answer, he gazes at Lana too.

Lana rolls her eyes again. “No weapons at the dinner table.”

Weapons?

Felix’s father adds, “Or butter knives.” And he sticks his knife into the butter. “Now pass me the buns, please.”

Jesus Christ, this is one weird party.

Felix grabs some perilla leaves and fills them all with only cooked meat that he just shoves into his mouth, chomping in an annoyed and hurried way.

“Why did you bring me here again?” I ask under my breath.

“Does it look like I wanted to?” Felix replies.

Ah, so he does listen to someone.

My eyes land on his father.

“So I guess you’re all a violent bunch, then?” I murmur.

Felix shrugs. “Blood runs thicker than water.”

“Then why do you hate your sister so much?”

She laughs beside me. “Oh no, we don’t hate each other.” She reaches for him and pats him on the shoulder. “This is brotherly love.”

Felix shoves her hand off. “I can’t fucking wait for this to be over.”

“Can we just have dinner, please?” Alistair muses, happily munching away at his food. “It’s too delicious to fight over.”

Lana completely ignores him. “You know they’re just trying to figure out where she belongs, right?” Lana muses at her brother.

“Who? Me?” I ask.

“Who do you think?” she retorts. “You’re the only new girl here.”

New girl. Interesting.

“Well, after Eve of course.”

My eyes widen.

Eve? Lana knows her.

Has she eaten with this family too?

“Okay, I’ve had about enough,” Felix says, and he puts down his fork and knife, violently scoots back his chair, and marches off, chucking a napkin to the floor.

“Where is he going?” Dylan’s mom asks.

“Toilet,” Lana quickly replies, and she picks up the bowl of Kimchi. “Kimchi?”

I scoot back my chair and run off too, following Felix.

I don’t know where he went, but I’m pretty sure it’s not the toilet.

I run off on my high heels through the giant mansion until I’m suddenly pulled to the side in a small, dimly lit hallway. I shriek, but a strong hand covers my mouth.

Felix.

He puts a finger in front of his lips, then slowly lowers his hand off my mouth.

But not away from my face.

“What are you doing here?” he asks.

My heart beats in my throat. “I could ask you the same thing.” His nostrils flare, and when he doesn’t say anything, I add, “Did you run off because of what she said about Eve?”

His fingers instantly wrap around my throat, squeezing the life out of me. “Don’t talk about her. Not to them. Got it?”

I nod, and he slowly releases the pressure, but his hand still hovers very close to my veins, like a looming threat.

“She’s been here too,” I mutter. I don’t need him to answer to know it’s the truth.

“Dylan’s family occasionally invites over their inner circle for dinner. Even friends.”

So I’m a part of the inner circle now?

He grabs my hand and tugs me into a bathroom behind me, shutting the door.

“It’s not safe to talk,” he growls. “You don’t know who the fuck our families are and what they’re capable of.”

“None of them seemed scared by violence,” I reply. “I think I can take a good guess.”

“Then don’t fucking talk,” he growls. “Not to anyone unless they ask.”

I frown. “Why? You scared I’m gonna tell them about our deal?”

His grip on my wrist tightens to the point it almost starts to hurt. “Think very carefully about what you’re gonna say, Pen.”

“They know about …” I mutter, wondering if I should finish my sentence. “They think I’m Dylan’s girlfriend, right? Are they trying to see if I’m a good fit?”

He nods.

“They don’t know you guys … share.” I swallow. “What else don’t they know?”

“Lots, and I want to keep it that way,” he replies.

I jerk free from his grip. “If you want me to act like I enjoy it here, you can at least talk to me.”

“About what?” His eyes narrow.

“I don’t know … pretend we’re normal or something. Tell me about your family before you take me to them.”

He closes his eyes and sighs. “You don’t want to know, trust me.”

“I do, actually,” I reply, as he rubs his forehead. “What about your sister, for example? You two seem to hate each other. Why?”

“It’s complicated. She’s my li’l sis, and I need to protect her. She hates it. But at the same time, she acts like a fucking floozy with the wrong guys.” He groans. “Never mind.”

He’s still rubbing himself like he hates even talking about them, but I’m glad I’m getting at least some information. If these guys are fucking around with me, I might as well get to know them. Who knows, maybe the information will be useful someday.

“God, I need a fucking drink,” he mumbles.

I bet he does. “You looked like you were about ready to kill when I mentioned your mother.”

His fingers part, revealing a half-mast, widened eye, almost like he’s homed in on me, ready to strike, and it makes goose bumps scatter on my skin.

“My mother …” He lowers his hand and gets up close and personal. “Is dead.”

“Oh.” I avert my eyes. “I’m sorry.”

He plants his hand on the wall beside him. “My father killed her.”

I look into his murderous-looking eyes that don’t even bear a hint of fear or anguish, and my lungs stop sucking in the oxygen they so desperately need.

His mother … killed by his own father?

Why?

And how would Felix be okay with that?

Suddenly, the door opens, and Dylan leans against the doorpost. “Hey there, girlfriend.”

He invites himself in and shuts the door behind him.

Felix turns around, incensed. “Why the fuck are you here?”

“Checking up on y’all,” he muses, folding his hands behind his head. “What are y’all doing?”

Felix raises his brow. “What does it look like?”

Dylan shrugs. “I don’t know. Seemed to me like you just want some alone time with my girlfriend.” He grabs my hand like he owns me. “Best keep up the charade, right?”

Felix slaps his hand away and stands between us. “Don’t even fucking try.”

The door opens again, and this time, Alistair’s peeking in. “Whoa, what’s going on in here?”

“Jesus Christ, why are you following us?” Felix growls and tries to shut the door, but Ali pushes his way inside first. “Goddammit. When I said I had enough, I meant all of you.”

“Fine,” I reply and push past him. “I’ll leave then.”

He grabs my wrist before I can even lift a finger at the door handle. “You. Stay.”

He turns to face me, the look in his eyes madly possessive.

“Why? You wanted some time alone.” I swallow just from the way he looks at me—like he could almost eat me alive even though we all just ate. “You don’t need me.”

He’s so up in my face that I’m forced to step back, but when I bump into the toilet, there’s nowhere for me to go but down.

His grip moves from my wrist to my chin. “You are everything I need right now.”

His thumb brushes along my lips, and when he parts them, I don’t even protest.

A need to satiate an unquenchable thirst fills his darkened, stained eyes. And when he pushes me back, my body instinctively walks along, unable to look away. I hit the wall in the back of the bathroom, and suddenly, the air is too thick to even breathe.

“On your knees,” he growls.