Twisted Games We Play

TWISTED GAMES WE PLAY MARIE LYNN BREWSTER CONTENTS Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Chapter 34 Chapter 35 Chapter 36 Chapter 37 Chapter 38 Chapter 39 Chapter 40 Chapter 41 Chapter 42 Chapter 43 Chapter 44 Chapter 45 Chapter 46 Chapter 47 Chapter 48 Chapter 49 Chapter 50 Chapter 51 Epilogue Playlist Copyright © Marie Lynn Brewster This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places, and events are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to real person, places, or events is coincidental. Twisted Games We Play ISBN 9798368178196 (softcover) All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying and recording, without permission in writing from the author. Scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet, or by any other means, without permission are illegal and punishable by law. Cover Art by R.L. Cover Designs Formatting by Vanilla Lily Designs Be forewarned, this book is a work of fiction and is not suitable for those under 18, or those who are easily offended. Within these pages are strong (offensive) language, adult situations, and violence, as well as sexual situations that may be offensive. If you have triggers, please know this book may not be for you. Please note that this book may not be one hundred percent accurate. It is meant for entertainment purposes only. This book is intended for those who love a good dark romance with heavy sexual content. Founding Families: Houseworth Archer Williams Knight CHAPTER ONE What happens when your crack whore mother dies of an overdose and you have no father because she has no clue who he might be? You end up in some rich ass community with an aunt you hardly know, a new school with preppy students you have no desire to meet, and a stupid uniform you wouldn’t be caught dead in otherwise. Aunt Psycho, I mean, Aunt Trudi is off primping for some social event. Apparently, the whole damn community will be at this stupid thing. Like I care. I would rather spend my night reading some trashy romance novel than spend the evening with rich people who have zero respect for the common working class. Unfortunately, she is using this event as an opportunity to show me off to the community so she can hopefully gain attention from the masses. I mean, who does shit like that? The woman has absolutely no love in her heart for me, yet she is going to parade me around like I am her prized possession. Fuck my life. This is the last place I want to be, and this damn event is the last place I want to go. If my mother hadn’t stolen all my savings for her crack, I would not be in this shithole. Instead, I would be off exploring my freedom. Living my life, the way I want to live it. Unfortunately, I’m forced to dressed up and parade around all these rich assholes. The bedroom door swings open, and Trudi waltzes in wearing a godawful ensemble in a hideous pale yellow. “Good, you look very sophisticated.” She reaches up and rearranges a couple of my curls. God, I hate this woman with a deep dark passion. “Don’t touch my hair.” “Watch your mouth, Presley.” She snarls at me before reminding me why I’m here. “Remember, you would be living under a bridge if not for me.” That may be true, but it doesn’t give her the right to touch me. She has never liked me, and I doubt she ever will. We may share blood, but that’s all we share. Trudi is ice cold, full of hatred and malice. Gripping my upper arm, she tugs me toward the staircase. I would love nothing more than to jerk out of her hold and shove her down these stairs, but I don’t particularly feel like spending time in prison for murder. As we come to the entry, she picks up her clutch from the table just inside the doorway. “Remember, I need you on your best behavior tonight.” Be on my best behavior? What am I, ten? I know how to behave in public. Just for that little remark, I should go out of my way to embarrass the bitch. It’s not as though this woman gives two shits about me. When my mother was whoring around and smoking crack like her life depended on it, Trudi was nowhere to be found. It was up to me to be the adult in my household. The truth about my aunt is that she took me in to gain status with her rich ass friends. That’s it. She wants more power, and for whatever reason, she thinks bringing me in will give her that. “Come now, Presley, we don’t want to be late.” Trudi does that clapping thing rich people do when they are trying to rush someone along. It’s dumb and it makes her look like an idiot. I swallow down the hateful retort sitting on the tip of my tongue. Truth is, I need her right now. Without her, I would be living on the streets eating scraps out of dumpsters. Trust me when I say dumpster diving is the last thing I ever want to do. With a smile as fake as her tits, I follow her out to the Town Car where her driver is waiting. That is another thing I don’t get about rich people. Who the hell needs someone to drive them everywhere? What is the point of owning a garage full of vehicles if