Vicious love barrington.., p.4

Vicious Love (Barrington Heights #1), page 4


Vicious Love (Barrington Heights #1)

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  “Can I change your opinion now? Do you want to go somewhere where it’s only you and me?”

  Wow. Just wow.

  “No, Claire. You just tried to catch me on saying, ‘Let’s have sex.’ I’m not going to sleep with you.”

  She drove off and left me alone at the café. I went back inside and finished off my coffee. The barista came over and sat next to me. She was cute, looked to be in her early twenties, and had blond hair and blue eyes.

  “You okay?” she asked.

  “Yeah, I’m fine. Just dealing with average teenage girl stuff, you know?” I laughed and checked her out. She was very attractive.

  “I’m Christine. And you?”

  “Christopher. We have similar names, Christine. I hope you don’t mind sharing that similarity with me.”

  We locked eyes for a second. Then she shifted her gaze.

  “How old are you, Christopher?” she asked.

  “I’m eighteen, you? And please call me Chris. All my friends do.”

  Her eyebrows raised over narrowed eyes at my response. “Twenty-one. Chris, you look old for your age.”

  “And you look perfect for your age. What’s your point?”

  She laughed and continued. “Smooth, smooth. Why don’t you come back to my place? I need a lift home anyways. My friend gets off after I do and she was going to take me home. My car’s in the shop.”

  “That sounds great.”

  We got up and headed to my car outside. When I stopped at my Corvette, she laughed.

  “Seriously, where’s your car?” she asked.

  I clicked the unlock button and winked at her.

  Her eyes widened in response. “Some kind of eighteen-year-old,” she said as she got in.

  “This car is my baby,” I said while smiling. “Now, where’s your place?”

  chapter 8


  We ate early because Barry was always tired after work and he went to sleep early. At four thirty, Mary was done making dinner, and at five, we sat down to eat. Mary was an amazing cook and made us french onion soup with New York strip steak and a salad of fresh greens. Truly delicious.

  “Honey, how was your first day?” Barry asked with a mouthful of steak. He had terrible table manners.

  “It was okay,” I answered. “Kind of hectic, but I’m excited for tomorrow. How was your day?”

  Small talk with Barry always seemed awkward. We hardly had flowing conversations. Rather we connected through mutual interests. Barry loved tennis and so did I. He enjoyed painting and so did I. He liked a simple life and so did I. We didn’t go out and party like other young couples. We had always been more mature than that.

  “Hectic as well. I had to verify several documents and rewrite a patent for one of our clients. A long day overall.”

  We both went back to eating and finished up. Barry headed upstairs to get ready for bed and relaxation. I cleaned up after us and made glanced out the window as I finished up with the dishes. It was still light out and I was feeling cooped up. I hadn’t eaten enough at dinner that I felt uncomfortably full so I decided to go for a run. Nobody had ever been able to understand how I could exercise so quickly after eating. It was a strange quirk of mine. I squeezed into my leggings and threw on a sports bra. On my way out, I looked into the mirror and put a shirt on over my bra.

  I took a left down the street to run my regular route. As I swiftly moved across the ground, I felt my heart rate increase as my body released adrenaline. I loved running; it always cleared my head when I just focused on the run. Music blaring through my headphones, my body moving in a constant tempo, the rush of exercise—I loved everything about it.

  I looked around and viewed my surroundings. The Andersons were fighting again. Poor Martha. She was so sweet, but her husband, Greg, was such an ass. Mr. Reel was mowing his lawn again. He waved and I waved back. I didn’t like his wife, Tiffany. She believed herself to be entitled to everything because they had money. Nicolas was so much different than his wife, but he loved her all the same. Jogging down the road, I took another right and headed down Counts Street.

  Counts Street was where the houses began to get larger and larger. This was where the extremely wealthy lived. I stopped jogging for a bit to take a look and I was absolutely amazed. Barry and I were wealthy, but nothing like this. Three-story homes with stone fences and guarded gates. It just blew me away that people lived like that.

  I continued jogging after about four minutes of being awestruck. Normally I would take a left onto Dawngate Avenue, but instead, I took another right. I jogged down that way for a while and came upon a park I’d never been to before. The sign said ‘Wells Park. Open to the public,’ so I entered. The sun was starting to go down and the sky was getting slightly darker, but there was still about an hour of sunlight left. I ran through the park while looking at the ancient trees and the magnificent flowers and bushes.

  “There’s no way that a public park should look this good,” I said to myself. I continued down the path until I came unto a fork. I was trying to decide which path to take when I heard someone coming up behind me during a pause in the music.


  I turned around to see Mrs. Nugent in a jogging outfit. “Mrs. Nugent, hello.” I felt embarrassed to be wearing leggings while in front of my boss, even if she was in the same type of outfit I was. It just wasn’t comfortable to me.

  “Please call me Denise outside of the office. I didn’t know you jogged. I come here all the time and I’ve never seen you here before.” She seemed surprised to see me blushing, but she shrugged it off and continued. “You’re not stalking a student, are you?” She laughed at that.

  “Oh, this is the first time I’ve jogged here.” I still was a little embarrassed, but it was fading. Denise seemed so casual out here—unlike at school, where she was formal and demanding.

  “It’s beautiful, isn’t it? I jog here every day.” She looked around with a smirk, as if it were her little secret place. Or at least had been her own little secret place now that I came here.

  “It is. I’m absolutely amazed that it’s a public park. They’re normally not this…this absolutely amazing!”

  We laughed for a bit at my stupid comment.

  “This park is a gift to the city from the Wells family. That’s why it’s like this. I believe you have their son in one of your classes, actually.”

  “Wells? I might. I have so many students.” I tried my best to play it off cool, but I knew exactly who she was talking about. Christopher Wells, the boy who walked me to room 212. I gulped at the thought of him. I gulped at the thought of him and a shiver skittered down my spine.

  “If he were in your class, you’d know. I thought I put him in one of your classes, but now, I’m not sure. I guess I’ll check tomorrow.”

  I smiled at her without saying anything. I was an awful liar, but for some reason, I felt like I had to keep my knowledge of him a secret for now.

  “Well, this is his family’s park anyways. Their house is down here.” She started off down the fork to the right and I followed.

  We continued down the path, talking about music, work, and things related to those. Nothing in particular, just small talk. That lasted for a good four minutes until we came to a small clearing at the very back of the park. It was on a cliff that hung over a creek, and on the other side of the creek was the largest home I had ever seen in my entire life.

  “Well, there it is. Wells Manor. What do you think?” She turned to look at me.

  “It’s huge! How can one family live in a place so large?”

  “There used to be four families in there when it was originally built back in the 1930s. It served as a compound for the Mob, if I can remember correctly. All of the Wells family lived there, extended and all. Now there’s just three of them.”

  “Only three people living there?” I was completely stunned as I spoke. Such a large, magnificent home could easily hold the entire population of the Barrington Heigh
ts. Maybe that’s an overstatement, but not by much.

  “Yup. Christopher Wells II, Alexandra Wells, and Christopher Wells III.” She looked nervous for some reason. She was definitely hiding something, but I didn’t want to pursue it right now. Or ever.

  “Wow,” was all I was able to say.

  She turned back as I still stood in the clearing.

  “Come on, Jennet. The sun is going to go down soon.”

  I looked up, and sure enough, the sun was about to set. This would be the longest time I’d jogged since college, when I participated in track. I followed her out of the park and onto Dawngate Avenue. Then we said our goodbyes and went our separate ways.

  Heading home, I went a little slower than before, but not on purpose. My mind was wandering and I wasn’t paying attention to my pace. What was Mrs. Nugent hiding? Why would she be hiding anything? Did it have something to do with Christopher? I didn’t know why, but I felt defensive at the thought that she would be hiding something about him. I needed to find out what her secrets were to both end my curiosity and protect Christopher. I wasn’t sure why but I felt the need to shelter him.

  When I finally got home, the sun had completely set and Barry was already asleep. It was probably eight thirty or nine. I didn’t check the clock or my phone. I went immediately to my computer to try to find some answers to my questions. First things first, I needed to learn more about the Wellses, so I typed their name in the search bar.

  Quite a bit of information showed up. Most of it was about community service, charity projects, and things like that. I scrolled down all the way and found a Wikipedia page about them. It said that the Wells family had obtained their wealth during Prohibition, that they had worked with Capone. That wasn’t surprising though. Old money in this area and even in New York tended to trace back to Prohibition and the mobs. I found out that Christopher Wells I, Christopher’s grandfather, was one of the founders of the modern Chicago Mercantile Exchange and that they owned a financing firm in Chicago.

  There were some links about modern Mob relations, but I ignored them. They were all small-time things that anyone would dismiss: street dealing, extortion, assault, etc. They were one of the wealthiest families in America; they would get someone to do that for them.

  Apparently, they were investors in Apple, too. There wasn’t anything very surprising, just the normal ‘wealthy family’ advantages since it often takes money to make money. That was until I clicked on the family tree link.

  This link showed me all of the known family members back to the 1860s, when they’d invested with Andrew Carnegie and his steel mills, until today, when there were three surviving family members: Christopher Wells II, Alexandra Wells, and Christopher Wells III. But there was another name there. It showed as ‘Jennifer Wells (diseased).’ I clicked on her name and another page popped up in a new tab.

  Jennifer Wells was found hanging in her room at Wells Manor on the morning of September 7th, 2009. It was ruled later that she had committed suicide the night before. There wasn’t a suicide note discovered, and Jennifer’s journal was found to be missing. Some speculate that it was murder due to the police finding evidence of a note being written, an uncapped pen, and an open notebook to a page missing. Also, there were nude photographs of Jennifer found near the body, leading to the belief that she was humiliated before dying. Others speculate that she was being blackmailed and she committed suicide because of it. The police never found who took the photos or where Jennifer’s journal went. Her brother, Christopher III, found the body. Jennifer died at the age of eighteen.

  Why would Mrs. Nugent hide this? Or was this not even what she was hiding? The poor girl though. Christopher’s sister had committed suicide and he’d found the body. He was only thirteen. Poor child. My body trembled at the thought. I closed my laptop and made my way upstairs, knowing how much I needed to rest. As I brushed my teeth, I stared at my eyes in the mirror, thinking about Christopher. He must have been so hurt. I crawled into bed next to Barry and gave him a kiss on the cheek before rolling over.

  Trying to fall asleep seemed to be impossible, but it was one o’clock and I had to get some rest. Luckily, I don’t have to show up to school until nine forty. I closed my eyes and finally drifted off to sleep.

  I woke up to the smell of bacon and eggs coming from downstairs. Mary must’ve made breakfast for Barry. I turned to look at the clock but didn’t see any numbers. I got out of bed, threw on a robe, and made my way downstairs. When I got there, though, it was pitch black. I still smelled bacon but couldn’t find the kitchen.

  Then there came a voice.

  “Where are you?” it asked. “Where are you? Why are you here? Get out!” It started yelling at me, screaming at me. “Get out! Get out! Get out!”

  “Who are you?” I asked. “I can’t see you!”

  The voice kept getting closer and closer in the dark, but I couldn’t see anything. It kept advancing until it finally stopped.

  “Hello?” I asked.

  “Hello.” It came from behind me, and I screamed.

  I woke up shrieking, and Barry ran upstairs. He found me in a ball on the floor, crying and rocking back and forth. He ran to me and held me.

  “Jennet, it’s okay! You were just dreaming! Jennet!”

  “Barry?” I asked. I still couldn’t see anything.

  “I’m here, honey. I’m here.” He held me close as I cried. “You were having another nightmare, honey. Just another bad dream. It’s okay. I have you.”

  We held each other and he lifted me up. I stared at him with tears in my eyes, and he kissed me. Nothing too hard, like always, but gentle. He really loved me, and I really loved him. We stood there kissing for a while until he pushed away and just looked at me. He smiled and started laughing as we embraced again. I joined him in laughter, and he finished getting dressed as I lay back down.

  “Are you going to be okay, Jennet?” he asked as he was buttoning up his shirt.

  Barry wasn’t the fittest man in the world, but he still had definition. I walked over to him and grabbed him around his waist. I then moved my hands across his stomach to his chest and back down. He pushed me on the bed and crawled on top of me.

  We locked eyes as he slid off my pants. I pulled his hand to my left breast and he fondled me. I started breathing heavily as his right hand made its way down to my pussy, and he slid one finger into me. He slowly played with me and caressed my body as I kissed his neck.

  I whispered into his ear, “Fuck me now. Do it now.”

  He listened like a good boy and unbuckled his pants. He always did what I said, and he followed it to the letter. He finally got his pants off and position his dick over me. I led it in and he let out a sigh. Barry wasn’t that big, but he wasn’t small either. His penis was six inches erect and decently thick. It fit my pussy very well, and he always took me slow. He couldn’t go too fast—otherwise, he would come in seconds.

  “Dammit, you feel so good,” he grunted as he started sliding in and out.

  He was going too slowly. I needed him to go faster, but I couldn’t say anything. It would hurt his feelings, so I started moaning. Barry heard me and kept going at the same pace.

  Fuck, Jennet. See what you did? Now he’s going to go this slow until he’s done.

  He didn’t last long, just a couple of minutes. He pulled out and I went to my knees. He spurted in my open mouth and I swallowed it all; there wasn’t much.

  “You know I don’t like it when you’re on your knees to me, Jennet,” he said as he slid his pants back up.

  “I know, I know, but I did it anyways.”

  He still looked angry at himself for letting me get on my knees. It was a respect thing to him. He hated to see me like that.

  “Shit. I’m going to be late for a meeting. Love you, babe.” He kissed me on the cheek and ran downstairs and out the door.

  I took a shower and finished in there. I loved Barry, but he didn’t know how to have sex. Okay, he did, but he didn’t know how
to be an animal. How to be primal and aggressive. I loved him so much, but he wasn’t a beast by any means. I went downstairs and had some french toast Mary had made for me then left for work.

  I got in my car and started off for Barrington High School. I was going to be early, but maybe Mr. Davidson would be there early, too. When I got to the school around nine, I made my way to the teachers’ lounge. I was right about Mr. Davidson; he was sitting down, drinking coffee, and watching the news. There was one other teacher there, too, but I hadn’t met him yet.

  “Good morning, Miss Beaumont,” Mr. Davidson said to me as I grabbed a coffee.

  “Please call me Jennet.” I gave him a smile and sat down next to him. He seemed to be quite chipper today, and I had to ask about it. “Mr. Davidson, you seem very happy today.”

  “That I am, Jennet. My daughter and my granddaughter are living with me now. I haven’t seen either of them in a long time.”

  “Congratulations. How old are they?”

  “My daughter is twenty-four and my granddaughter just turned three. She’s the cutest darn thing I’ve ever seen. She looks just like her mother and it makes me tear up every time I look at her,” he beams. “Oh. Where are my manners? How are you this morning?” He smiled, and I couldn’t help but smile back at him. He made me feel happy. Mr. Davidson just radiated happiness and it was contagious.

  “I’m pretty good so far. Let’s hope it stays the same,” I said, still grinning.

  “Let’s hope so. You have a very nice smile, Jennet. You should smile more.” Another guy who could read me. At least it was Mr. Davidson and not a student this time.

  “I’m going to have to try my best. You know, I was thinking about the advice you gave me yesterday and I can’t help but agree with you. I do need to understand myself before I can properly teach these students what they need to learn. Thank you.”

  “Oh, absolutely any time! It’s what friends do, even lame, old teacher friends.” He burst out laughing at that. The word was that his debate class as the most applied-to class at Barrington High, and he was probably the most loved teacher there.

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