War Of Hearts: A Wicked Hearts At War Book One Read online

  War Of Hearts

  A Wicked Hearts At War Book One

  Mallory Fox

  Black Jade Publishing

  Contents

  Prologue

  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

  Epilogue

  Also by Mallory Fox

  Join My Heartbreaker Club

  About the Author

  War Of Hearts

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  Copyright © June 2020 by Mallory Fox

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  All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the original purchaser of this publication only. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the copyright holder. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the copyright holder’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

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  Published in the United Kingdom by

  Black Jade Publishing Ltd.

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  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

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  Cover Design by The Book Brander Boutique

  Editing by IndieHub

  To my Jack Chi.

  Thank you for keeping my feet warm all those sleepless, writing nights.

  ❤

  Prologue

  How easy is it to end the life of the one you love?

  To destroy them, take them to pieces until there’s nothing left, not even a bloody corpse to mourn over.

  Very fucking easy. I should know.

  Light a spark, throw the match, and watch it all burn.

  Don’t apologize. Don’t waste your breath.

  The sorrow caught in your windpipe, right where the gag reflex is, fucks the apology in your mouth anyway. But you still try, choking on the words as they form…

  How does it sound? Like broken glass. Nails down a chalkboard. It sounds like shit, right? It sounds like you’re struggling not to lie through your teeth.

  Now imagine the love of your life is watching you stutter this useless apology; with all the hate they’ve ever had in their heart directed right at you.

  If you don’t know how that feels, picture your heart being ripped out of your chest, still beating. Imagine it being stomped on and left exposed and bleeding raw on the floor. While they just stand there with their hands bound behind their back, like a caged animal finally on a leash, with wounded eyes full of mistrust and festering malice for you and only you.

  And you think as you try to say you’re sorry—for all the good that will do—I did that. It’s all my fault. The person I love, hates me, wants me dead, because I was the one who took their life away.

  Now… how do you feel?

  Chapter 1

  Pearl

  Ravenwood’s Prep School for Boys.

  My stomach turns at the sight of the sign for my father’s old school overshadowed by a set of huge wrought iron gates, just as our Bentley pulls into a circular driveway. We stop and Henry gets out first, opening my door the exact way he’s being doing all of my life.

  But I don’t get out.

  Today of all days, I hesitate.

  If it wasn’t for Father and I arguing, if it wasn’t for this wretched uniform—a dark navy blazer, yellow cardigan, short tartan skirt, complete with poxy knee-high socks and straw hat.

  If it wasn’t for Mother dying…

  Providence Arcadia—where my mother went, and her mother before her—is where I should be. Not here. Not at this hole they conveniently call a school. Grams said it the last time we spoke, that Ravenwood is not a place for becoming young ladies. It’s a school for cock-sucking men, run by, you guessed it, cock-sucking men.

  Got to love Grandma and all her cussing.

  It’s true that Father doesn’t do anything without reason, but him being so secretive about this doesn’t make any sense. I’ve no idea as to what he wants me to do. Literally none.

  There’s always an angle.

  And I’m always his star piece, his queen on the board. He’s never left me in the dark, not like everyone else, not when he’s making a play for something big.

  I’m his fucking daughter. Surely, that counts for something?

  The shrill ring of my mobile phone jars against the songbirds twittering in the trees. I’m sitting on the balcony, overlooking the gardens of our country home, ignoring him for once.

  It rings for a second time.

  It’s not like he’s even here. He’s never here. He’s always bloody working. He can see how it feels for once to be ignored. And, I know what he’s going to say anyway. He’s just going to be pissed at me again, so to hell with picking up…

  It rings again. Third time lucky.

  I momentarily glance at my nails, making a note to get a French manicure.

  Fourth ring.

  I sigh and snatch up the phone, flipping the screen to answer. If only to stop the twitch happening in my right eye. Four rings is one too many, apparently. Details like that make old habits hard to break in the Darlington household.

  “This is Pearl.”

  “Tell me, daughter of mine, what’s so important that I had to up and leave my board of advisors alone during our annual general meeting?”

  “Is it… all going well?”

  I imagine him looking back through the glass walls of the board room, like a cat eyeing a cage full of mice. “As well as could be,” he says after a pause.

  “You mean they haven’t eviscerated each other yet?” Daddy is the worst of them, but it’s well known that Darlingtons don’t play nice, even with each other. I wouldn’t put it past my family to be on the rampage after their company just lost everything. And I mean everything.

  “No, not yet. Sullivan appears to be keeping everyone at least two meters apart.”

  “Good on Sully.”

  “You didn’t call for a board meeting chitchat did you, Pearl?”

  Deep breath in. Don’t stammer. Just say it plainly.

  “I’m not going to Ravenwood,” I blurt. “I know you want me to go to the same school you went to, but I’ve made alternate arrangements with Holloway Prep. It’s one of the best in the country, and it has an equal number of female and male students, so it’s got that competitive edge you prefer.”

  That’s not how I meant to say it, but at least I don’t sound weak. Regardless, I clamp my tongue to the roof of my mouth to stop myself from saying anything more.

  Silence greets me from the other end. Is he still there or did he hang up? Maybe I should have waited until he was home. At least being face to face, I can bat my eyes at him a little bit. Not that that particular trick has worked for a long time. Now that I’m older, I look just like his dead wife.

  I hold myself back from speaking and wait him out. I’m not his daughter for nothing.

  Finally, he responds. “I thought I’d made myself clear on this matter.”

  “You pro
mised me I could make my own decisions about my future.”

  “When you’re eighteen, until then you’re going to Ravenwood.”

  “But why? Ravenwood is a boys’ school.”

  “You know as well as I do that they’re accepting girls this term.”

  “After you paid them off. Does this have anything to do with the Montfords trying to take over our company? Is this some kind of corporate play? Is that why you’re sending me there?”

  “This has nothing to do with their pathetic attempt to acquire my company.”

  “Then I don’t understand. Holloway is a good school. If this isn’t part of some grand scheme, why can’t I go to the school I want?”

  “Are you questioning my judgement, Pearl?” His tone is light. Deceiving.

  “No, Daddy,” I choke out.

  “Good. Then by the time I come home I want you packed and on your way to Ravenwood.”

  My eyes close of their own accord. I can still hear the birds singing, and now Maria as she loads the balcony table I’m sitting at with breakfast. The smell of it is cloying and fills my nose and stomach with unease.

  “Pearl, did you hear me? Don’t ask me to repeat myself. You know how I hate repeating myself.”

  “Yes, I heard you, Daddy,” I say, opening my eyes and waving Maria and the food away.

  I wait for him to hang up but there’s a pause on the other end.

  “Actually, there is something you can do for me.”

  “Anything,” I breathe out.

  “I want you to get close to Seth Montfort. Find out what kind of man he’s becoming.”

  “Seth Montford? The heir of Montford International?” And my sworn enemy…

  “Let’s just say he’s become of interest to me, all of a sudden.”

  So it is to do with the acquisition.

  Another sigh escapes my lips before I can stop it, but I needn’t worry. The click of the receiver on the other end tells me he’s already gone.

  “Miss… Are you ready?”

  I give a sideways glance at Henry peering at me and wet my lips as I take a slow breath. Are you ready, Chickadee?

  Yes, Mother, as ready as I’ll ever be.

  I slide out and take one last look at my reflection in the shiny surface of the vehicle rear door as it closes behind me. My hair is perfect and my make-up flawless.

  Bonnie, my latest stylist, has a good eye. I told her to make me look like perfection and she has excelled. I’m wearing the Ravenwood tartan but I’m wearing it in my own way. A pleated skirt with just enough length to make it acceptable.

  The pleats are for Arcadia since there was no way I was going to blend in. I’m going to stand out like a fucking rose among the thorns.

  Henry walks around to the boot of the car and extracts my bags, handing over a family of matching suitcases and holdalls to the porter as I move away from my father’s Bentley and onto the stone steps leading to the entrance of my new school.

  “I’ll take your luggage straight to your rooms, Miss Darlington.” I acknowledge the porter with a tilt of the head, and then he and another scurry to make all my bags disappear into the building.

  After Henry drives off, I fill my lungs with the crisp, clean air of the rural English countryside, and then walk into the main courtyard. It’s not until I’m standing in the middle of a floor mosaic that is the emblem of Ravenwood, that I look around.

  The place is certainly domineering.

  Turrets grace each corner of the neat and tidy square adorned in polished stone and perfectly placed brickwork. Intricate and imposing archways and tall, vaulted windows hem me in on every side. Even the flowers and plants are deceptively placed to ensure walking is orderly. Despite all that, it’s beautiful and peaceful this early on a Sunday morning.

  Everyone, students and teachers alike, must be at the chapel for mass. This is quite possibly the only chance I’ll ever have to stand here without hundreds of pairs of eyes grating on me. Idly, I stare the mosaic beneath my feet and trace the pattern of the R with the toe of my shoe. The R is surrounded by thorny roses and what look to be black birds.

  Ravens?

  Above my head, I sense the curtain in the window of one of the skinny turrets fluttering and it causes me to look up. All I can think is, ‘maybe I spoke too soon?’

  Staring down, as though he owns the castle I’m about to breach, is a raven-haired Adonis with the face of an angel and knife-edges for cheekbones. He’s definitely a student, if the blazer he’s wearing is anything to go by. He certainly looks familiar. Squinting against the sunlight, I put my hand over my eyes to shield them to get a better look.

  Yes. I’ve definitely seen him before.

  Like his GQ cover photo, he’s not wearing his trademark Harry Potter style glasses, but I know who it is.

  It’s Seth Montford.

  The King of Ravenwood Prep.

  My eyes catch his, so I put my gloved hand onto my pocket and take out a thick, cream envelope. Inside is my father’s raven pin. I break contact to glance down and attach the pin to my lapel, positioning it so that it catches the light beneath a lock of my hair, then look back up.

  Because there’s no time like the present to start a fucking war.

  Or invite trouble.

  The king frowns, his piercing blue eyes, glacial almost, boring right into my soul and making me shiver.

  He’s definitely a thorn.

  Unflinching, I continue to regard him right back, stony-faced until the curtain falls. I have to stay strong. If this is the school Daddy wants me to attend then I have no choice but to make it mine, using all the resources my family has to make it so. And get close to Seth Montford.

  My father must mean to take him down.

  I’ve no idea how close my father means for me to get to him, but the pin will help and obviously he won’t expect it. Still, it’s only a thrown down gauntlet. I’m going to have to use other resources to do the rest, to worm my way into his close-knit circle, to get him to trust me.

  In my other pocket is a list of the rats who are loyal to my father that are still living and breathing at Ravenwood. My only hope, if those Montford thorns decide they want to mess with me, is that owning enough rats, just like Daddy taught me, will be enough to bring them and the king of Ravenwood to heel.

  Chapter 2

  Seth

  The whole goddam school is watching. What’s left of Providence Arcadia School for Girls, all twenty-five of them, mill around like lost sheep in the centre of the assembly hall.

  Brompton’s practically drooling out the corner of his mouth as we approach. It’s embarrassing. He needs to get his dick back in his pants and under-control. It’s like the fucker has never seen a real girl before, never mind an over-polished Providence brat with daddy issues. But we all know that’s not true. Brompton eats little girls out for breakfast and gets them to return the favor for lunch.

  Just don’t ask where he goes for dinner.

  As they see us enter, me in the middle, Brompton to my left and Stamford to my far right, half of them lick their lips and the rest shoot me evil looks, like I killed a kitten belonging to one of them.

  Christ. I’m not in the mood for this.

  Don’t get me wrong. I’ve nothing against rich girls but I prefer them humble and a little more wanting. At least old enough not to be flat-chested or fucking jailbait. And believe me, stuck-up trust-fund bitches are never grateful for anything. They’re the exact opposite.

  I wouldn’t mind if they were after my money. Money is something my family understands.

  No, these girls want power.

  My power. And my family name. I’ll be screwed if I let any of these cold-hearted harpies close enough that they think they can control me and the Montford name. Because that’s all women care about, my mother included…

  Teachers enter the hall as students begin filtering into their respective pews on either side. Only now, with the girls here, the senior boys from Coldhart house and Windsor ho
use are no longer up front and side by side where they belong. No. The girls are seated where Windsor usually reside. They’re all huddled together, shifting in seats, whispering behind their hands about us Coldhart boys while the lads in the rows behind them share uneasy looks.

  Brompton, true to form, makes a lewd comment toward the girls. One of them, who looks familiar, scrunches her face up at me as though I made the comment. I’ll have to watch over Brompton. It’s one thing to fuck around with the Valley girls who don’t have a pot to piss in and expect little more than a quick shag in the back of your Aston Martin, but quite another to shit on your own doorstep.

  The Providence girls are off limits for a reason.

  Around the back of Brompton’s head, I catch Stamford’s eye. He nods knowingly. He gets it. His family are second to royalty, so he knows first-hand what happens if a Providence girl decides she’s been mistreated.

  Who in their right mind decided to merge the two schools? Whoever it was had no idea of the feud between the Montfords and Darlingtons. No fucking idea at all.

  The principle enters and the students, boys and girls alike, quieten down and get their feet as the organist starts to play.

  “Boys of Ravenwood, and girls of Ravenwood…” Principle Vaughn starts almost immediately as he gets to the podium, sweat pouring off his brow as he pauses catch his breath. There’s a light dusting of powder still under his nose. Already? It’s not even eight in the morning. The fat fucker is going to die of a heart attack, if he’s not careful.