Beg for Mercy (Mercy Academy, Book 1)
Beg for Mercy (Mercy Academy, Book 1)
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The only problem is that Aric’s also a rich, arrogant, and gigantic prick. Nothing but filth and insults come out of his smirking mouth, constantly reminding me that poor, trailer park trash girls like myself don’t belong in his pretentious academy.
Aric and his best friends all think they’re untouchable.
But the cocky bastard is finally going down this year.
I’ve hit the motherload of blackmail on the jerk, pun intended, and I can’t wait to give him exactly what he deserves.
Aric Prince’s reign at the academy is coming to an end.
Before I’m done with him, he’ll be on his knees, begging for mercy.
- Possessive Hero
- Bully Romance
CLICK HERE TO READ AN EXCERPT
CLICK HERE TO READ AN EXCERPT
I blow out a sigh of relief as I drop my backpack on the floor and slump into an empty seat on the city bus knowing my brother and sister are all set for a new school year. Thank god the elementary school starts an hour before high school, otherwise I would’ve been late for my first day at Mercy Academy. Most sixteen-year-old girls worry about what to wear on their first day of school, how they should fix their hair or who they’ll sit with at lunch. Not me. Luckily, Mercy has a mandatory uniform, so I don’t have to waste a penny on finding consignment clothes to fit my too-lean-for-my-gigantic height body. As far as my thick, cinnamon-colored hair goes, a simple ponytail keeps it from poofing out under the August humidity in the south. And finally, I don’t give a shit who I sit with in the cafeteria because I’m just excited about the free food. There’s even a salad bar where I can finally eat something green that grows out of the ground for the first time in…I can’t even remember! So, no, I don’t have time for any of the usual teenage, superficial bullshit drama. My worries are a hell of a lot more serious, like how many more days can I wait to pay the electricity bill before they turn the power off in our trailer? Or what will I feed my brother and sister at the end of the week when we run out of food? My plan at the moment is to hoard as much grub at breakfast and lunch and take it home. It’s the best option I can come up with since I won’t get any more funds on our EBT state benefits card until next Tuesday. Life sucks, but I’m looking forward to my sophomore year and starting a new chapter. Freshman year I went to a public high school downtown in my rundown neighborhood, which was a complete joke. Everyone is high all the time or pregnant, and as long as you show up once a week all four years and can recite your ABCs, they’ll give you a diploma. I want more out of life. The only way for me to go to college at one of the local universities is on a full scholarship. Do you think admission counselors are impressed by the girl who is at the top of her class of wasted losers? No, they’re not. But I’ve figured out another way in – attending an elite, prep school where the rich groom their kids to be CEOs, doctors and lawyers. Once I kick all the spoiled, rich pricks’ asses, the college offers are bound to start rolling in. Mercy needs to pad their GPA and SAT score stats for their brochures, which is why they gave me a scholarship. Finally, I’ve got my foot in the door to be successful. But as soon as I step off the bus wearing the same clothes as everyone else, it’s still obvious that I don’t belong here on this campus. The parking lot is full of Mercedes, BMWs, and Porsches, the kinds of cars that only drive through my neighborhood if they’re stolen. Here I am taking public transportation while a red motherfucking Lamborghini rolls up to the curb and parks right in front of the beautiful campus. I’ve only ever seen these types of fancy sports cars in movies! I have to walk past the beautiful vehicle to go through the front doors, so I get an up-close look, my fingertips itching to touch so much power, wealth and…status. As I start up the stone steps, I take one last peek over my shoulder and nearly trip up them when I see the face of the tall, muscular guy who climbs out. He’s as gorgeous as his car with an angular face framed by loose chocolate curls that was made to be slapped on posters for teenage girls to wallpaper their bedrooms. He looks too mature and too perfect to be a student. And yet, he reaches into the car and pulls out a navy-blue blazer, a required part of the school’s uniform, and tosses it over his shoulder. As he starts to walk around the front of his four-hundred-thousand-dollar car, he lifts his eyes and narrows them at me, making me flush because I hadn’t realized I had stopped and stared for so long. Gripping the straps of my backpack, I jog up the rest of the stairs and slip inside the main door, heading for the front office. The older woman with her gray hair pulled back into a bun is manning the desk again today just like she was during my tour. “Hi, I’m Maddie. Sorry, my full name is Madison Collins. Today’s my first day.” “Welcome, Miss Collins,” she says when she gets to her feet and starts digging through a wooden box full of envelopes. “Your schedule hasn’t made it up here yet, so let me go check and see if the guidance counselor has it. Feel free to have a seat while you wait. And your peer advisor should be here shortly. He’ll escort you to each class today and answer any questions you have about the academy.” “Great, thank you,” I tell her before she disappears down the hallway. I remove my backpack and place it on the ground as I lower myself into one of the blue chairs lined up against both sides of the wall. I’ve just crossed my legs in my short uniform skirt when the glass door opens. It’s the Lamborghini owner, and he fills every inch of the door frame thanks to his towering height and wide shoulders that are stretching his white button down to its limits. The front hem of his shirt is half-ass tucked into the front of his navy uniform slacks that accentuate his flat as a pancake stomach and a rather impressive front package. He barely gives me a glance before strolling up to the counter, or maybe he did look at me, but I was too busy checking him out below the neck and waist. “She’s, ah, gone to get my schedule,” I tell him. After slapping his palms on the counter, I hear him sigh heavily before he wanders over and slumps down in one of the seats across from me, his long legs parted wide like a guy who has no fucks to give. Then, his cool eyes stare at me blatantly, taking in every inch from the toes of my shoes to my crossed legs, all the way up to the top of my ponytail and back down again slowly. Repeatedly. Like I’m an art exhibit put on display for the sole purpose of his enjoyment and approval. And stupidly, I actually want this guy’s approval, even though I’ve never given two shits about what anyone thought of me before. His unwavering gaze is making me even more nervous since he hasn’t yet said a word. “I’m Maddie. Today’s my first day,” I blurt out. Finally, he opens his sensual mouth with full pouty lips. “Congratu-fucking-lations.” His voice is deeper than the sea and gruff with just a hint of a southern drawl. “Ah, thanks,” I reply even though I’m pretty sure he was being a sarcastic jerk. “Are you by chance my peer advisor?” I ask. “I’m a sophomore.” “Yep.” Wow, he’s so…friendly. “I saw you out there,” I say, pointing toward the front of the building. “Nice ride.” “I saw you too,” he says, causing a warm glow in my chest because he was also looking at me. “Saw you slumming it, getting off the dirty city bus.” He wrinkles his nose. “Thanks to you, we’ll never get rid of the smell of trash in here.” I curse the Irish blood on my father’s side of the family when my face heats up to volcanic levels, likely turning the same color of my hair. Screw this guy. If he’s not planning to play nice, I won’t either. Getting to my feet, I pick up my backpack and throw it over my shoulder to tell him. “You know what? Forget it. You can leave. I would rather get lost than put up with your arrogant ass all day long.” Now he stands up too, this jerk whose name I don’t even know, and saunters right up to me. He’s so close I can smell his rich boy cologne and see the exact shade of his light green eyes that are eerily similar to the color of…clear glass, hard and transparent. I can see right through to the jerk’s hollow, materialistic soul. He’s the type of person who thinks he’s better than everyone else because he’s wealthy. “You shouldn’t get too comfortable here,” he tells me, and it sounds more like a warning. “Why not?” “Because we’ll chew you up and spit you out just like all the other gold diggers and pretenders who come through here thinking they’re one of us.” “Wow,” I mutter at the insult. As soon as I recover, I tell him, “I can’t wait to look down at you from the valedictorian stand in three years. You may take everything in your life for granted, but I don’t. I work hard for every penny and refuse to let anyone hold me back, especially some dumb jock who can’t even count all the money he spends in a day.” His jaw ticks after that pronouncement, drawing my attention to the fact that he actually has a chocolate sprinkling of a five o’clock shadow on it. First thing in the morning. And he’s my age! “The only place you’ll be in three years is knocked up or working a pole for dollar bills,” he grits out. “There’s no way you’ll ever last a year here, much less graduate at the top of our class.” “Wanna bet?” I seethe through my own clenched teeth. Glancing down at our feet, he tells me, “Sorry, Little Orphan Annie, but I don’t think you can afford to offer me anything I would actually want when you can’t even afford to buy yourself some new shoes.” The blush on my cheeks is pure rage now because he’s right. I didn’t buy new shoes because I chose to send Matt and Mandy to school with new ones instead. And the orphan insult stings too because I have no idea if my parents are even alive. Screw this guy and the stupid sports car he rode in on. “When I’m named the valedictorian in three years, you have to give me your Lamborghini.” “My Lambo?” He barks out a laugh. “You’re out of your fucking mind, slag.” What the heck is a slag? I’ll have to look it up later, but I’m guessing it doesn’t mean anything nice. “And you are the biggest pussy I’ve ever seen. You really should have gone with a pink ride instead of red to make the vagina image complete!” “Oh, it is on, trailer trash!”
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