Chapter One

Maddie

I stood in the middle of Bramwell U's main courtyard surrounded by flyers featuring a curvy girl dressed in a watermelon silk camisole and matching French knickers singing her drunk little heart out to a karaoke mic. A peek of butt cheek and a whole lot more curves were visible from every angle, despite keeping my distance as I walked.

For a Monday morning I was keen to keep the growing crowd from putting two and two together and coming up with me.

Like I had.

Because that piece of ass would be my butt cheek hanging out for all and sundry to see. What frustrated me most was that the scene clearly showed my own damn living room of the house I shared with four other girls … and not one of them was home when the illicit picture was taken—without my consent.

In fact, no one was home but me.

Butt, butt, buttity, butt.

The caption on the flyers didn't escape me, either:

UK Student Maddie Sutcliff Lets Down Her Hair … And Her Pride.

I grimaced and ducked my head, letting hip-length black hair flow around me. Even in my state of discomfort I loved the way the raven-black-and-blue streaks contrasted with my white leather jacket. My black crop beneath showed a whole lotta skin … though it was the same piece the college gawked at as I edged through the crowd.

You see, that photo in everyone's hands had a nice little nip slip. Pert, thankfully, dusky-pink, and pebbled. Yep. Zero body control there, folks.

Well, not so little, actually. The boob was quite big, graphically speaking, as the strap came loose—I had no idea how, and barely remembered the debaucherous night in question apart from the stinger of a headache I woke up with this morning and a sense of unease brewing low in my belly that no amount of premium black coffee grounds could fix. Still, I didn't expect to drag my hungover ass into the commons and find my pjs and tits plastered everywhere, either.

Students snickered as they read the caption, and more than one phone was out ready to take pictures of my… picture. My brow furrowed as I jammed my sunglasses harder onto my head, glad I was wearing boots because I was so ready to jam one up someone's behind.

The worst thing was that despite no one else being around last night, I knew just who was responsible for this morning's coup de grace: Maxom Deitrich.

The dark horse of a golden boy with his perfect stature, all that wealth he inherited early due to losing a pair of parents I knew he didn't talk to or care about anyway. And despite being an utterly self-absorbed asshole, he still managed to charm the panties off both genders of all ages, despite their social status.

I knew how tarnished his halo was, because he spent the last two years tormenting me. My bully. How sweet.

And I knew it was him because I broke up with his twin the night before. A night that might just haunt me for the rest of my years. Pro tip, folks: never try to be nice in a breakup. That kind of karma never pays out like you expect.

"I fell out of love with you," I murmured, trying to banish guilt that sank my heart at quashing the love I wasn't sure I'd felt for Lennox during the last months. This was the right thing to do for me. For both of us.

Actually, I wasn't sure I was ever really in love with Lennox Dietrich, but that was bygones, now.

"Is that so?" He'd surveyed me with the same cold air he offered me daily for the past weeks as we drifted around each other. Whatever magnetic lust drew us together had worn thin with a difference of life choices.

Like belief in minority groups, and quality of life for lower socio-economic demographic. I didn't care how hot a guy was or how good in bed. His aloof, I'm too rich to care attitude broke me at a heart level. That wound would never recover.

"I'm sorry," I said helplessly, the guilt intensifying that I should feel something more but didn't. "I'm not being cruel. We aren't alike anymore. But we had fun, didn't we?" For a time? Any time? My voice rose at the end in my panic.

"Did we?" he asked softly. "Or maybe you were just a waste of my time after all."

I walked away without another word after that, and saw him on social media not two hours later with a sorority girl flashing her not-so-natural tits and the new jewelry he bought her, practically clawing at his clothes as they locked lips. Hell, he even tagged me in that one just to dig his poisonous point a little deeper. Asshole.

I held my head up for a full minute, making my heart rejoice in my freedom … before I bawled my eyes out on the boy I thought I might one day marry, drank myself stupid, and performed a karaoke duet with the house TV all on my lonesome.

Hence how the picture came to be. The only difference between ex-Lennox's new sidepiece and me was that while we both had our tits out—mine were most definitely perkier—she got the bling. And the boy.

Even in my hungover state I didn't want either of those, though I'd keep the boobs.

And because I dared walk away from his twin I earned an extra spotlight in Maxom Deitrich's attention. With him, no matter how small the crime or the imagined slight, there was always comeuppance.

Which boiled down to the whole reason he hated me in the first place—because I chose Lennox McDickface Deitrich instead of the "right" twin for me.

Maxom made it clear the moment he found me wandering around their mansion two years ago at dawn looking for the coffeemaker. A look, a glare that I should be there … that I shouldn't be with his brother. Why that mattered to him, I still had no idea because Maxom liked to keep the workings of his black heart to himself.

Our vendetta grew, and Maxom Deitrich had no limits to his fury. Or his ego.

A flier fluttered around my ankles. I pried the paper from my blue leather boots that matched my dark jeans I wiggled into earlier, and flipped it over. I stared back at myself, my hair wild, my face flushed.

Damn good thing those pjs make my nip slip look sexy as hell.

A few heads began to turn, picking me out as the lone person walking at a near-run through the wandering, stalled crowd.

Maxom might think he had me by the short and curlies, but I was more than ready to take my pound of flesh from his perfectly tight ass.

Right now.

Except I didn't have to wait. Normally, karma left me hanging a good month or two, letting my head cool, but for a shitty Monday morning it delivered right on time.

Maxom stood in the very center of the courtyard, posing beside the fountain that. for the first time in weeks after orientation, didn't run like a SodaStream with detergent powder.

Black jeans enhanced his already six feet plus height, a black button-down shirt open to the third button, cuffs rolled up to complete the luxurious, apathetic look. Hair as black as mine made a direct contrast to his twin's pale mop swept to one side, the epitome of the languishing private schoolboy.

College life suited the power-hungry twin, and he relished in it. I hoped one day he'd step into the real world and get a shock, and that I'd be there to see it. Still, his blue eyes lit as I made my choice to face off with him in public.

If I'd been any other girl I might have drooled over those forearms and the musculature that stretched his shirt tight across his back. His bulk wasn't big enough to be bulging, just a hint of dangerous strength there, enough to enhance his overabundant supply of sex appeal.

Yes, I might have drooled, if I were any other girl.

And there were plenty of those slobbering in the shade he threw as he watched me stalk toward him, his lips half-cocked in a familiar smirk. One of the girls placed a hand on his arm, fawning at his side, but he shrugged her off without looking down to see who dared touch him.

Those opal blue eyes darkened, a flash of fire belying his cool. Maxom Deitrich was seething, and in a crowd of over a hundred students only I could see it. Or maybe he let me in.

"Enjoying the start of the new week?" His lips curled in a cruel smile. Somewhat horrifyingly, he looked hotter that way.

Jesus, I'm so fucking broken. Apparently breaking up with his brother left me open to the cold rage from the twin in front of me. And still, he looked far too sexy for my liking. Calm yer tits, ovaries.

My Aussie housemate's crass lingo was rubbing off on me. I resisted the urge to facepalm. Barely.

"Take them down." I glared, daring him to defy my need to rip him to shreds.

"They aren't up anywhere, Maddie." My name slipped off his tongue in a sinful caress.

A shiver worked its way along my spine and around my stomach like the sun went behind a cloud. His fingers flickered on the pamphlets as he passed another out right in front of me.

"You utter asshole," I grated, shoving him backward. My British accent thickened in my fury.

That push should have done nothing. He should have laughed down at me, as always.

Instead, karma came through again—damn, was I chalking up those runs—and he tripped over his high-gloss patent shoes to land ass first in the fountain, fancy footwear dangling over his head. A bemused expression settled on his face as fliers fluttered around him, my watermelon silk-covered butt absorbing the water around him like so much bullshit.

Who's your bully now?

The courtyard held its collective breath. Not me. I smirked as he stared at me, lost in his own world. Water soaked into the material and by the time he hauled himself out of the bird-shit-filled trough, his clothes clung to his hard body in all the right places.

"Do you like to play games, Sutcliff?" he asked, his voice low enough to resonate through my bones.

Dangerous.

His lips curled in a dark smile that promised all the cruelest things, his fingers tangling in the blue streak that decorated my otherwise black hair. The strands wound around long, slim fingers, and he gave a gentle tug, drawing me forward like we were the only two on the green, and not surrounded by a hundred or more students gawking while we flirted.

Is that what this is?

When had the air become charged in sexual tension that bound us together?

His eyes wreathed in blue flame, his tongue flickered out to graze his bottom lip. I half expected it to be split like a demon's as he wound me a little closer until the water from his damp shirt wicked onto my bare skin.

"You're not worth playing games with," I whispered, my voice breathy, weak. I hated the flare of dominance in those vicious eyes that devoured me on the spot.

I won't be eaten by the likes of you.

"Oh, yes, you will. And you'll enjoy screaming for me," he murmured, dipping his head until his words brushed my lips in a phantom caress.

"Like hell," I retorted, still sounding like a cheap phone sex operator.

I pushed at his chest, but didn't manage to regain the space I needed. His fingers still wound in my hair, his other hand slipped beneath my white leather jacket, stroking cold tendrils across the exposed strip of skin at my waist beneath my crop top in an undeniably intimate gesture. The sort of homage a lover would pay before the main event.

Air sucked from my throat, my world shrinking to focus on those ocean-deep eyes.

"You will. What shall we play? What would you risk for me?"

"Nothing." I swallowed, glaring at him. "Don't—"

"Touch you? But I'll own you soon, Maddie. So soon."

"Maybe I'll make you scream." The words slipped from my lips to his without my permission.

"Is that what you think you can do?" His voice held an amused note as he considered me, his head tipped to one side. His fingertips remained marble cold on my skin, turning small circles there. "If you think you can do it … what do you want?"

"You'll be my bitch for the week. Do all the menial tasks. Cleaning, laundry, homework assignments, and deliveries. Smoothie runs. One week." I'd enjoy seeing him brought down a peg, though my anger in that moment was less aimed at him than the brother who couldn't love me any more than I could love him.

I knew it was wrong, but this felt right.

"Accepted."

Damn, I thought he'd put up more of a fight.

I should've asked for more.

"And what would you do to me?" Again, breathy anticipation filled my tone. I clenched my teeth.

His smile widened. "If you scream for me, I own you."

Cocky much, Mister Deitrich?

"Time limit?" I raised both eyebrows.

"I have no limits." He blazed at me, all darkness and sin and cold rage coiled within.

I didn't doubt the truth of that statement for a moment.

"That door swings both ways. You'll be my bitch, and…" I frowned.

I had a damn good idea of what being owned by him might be like, though there were some gaping holes in that caveat. I didn't want to show weakness by asking.

"You're wrong, you know," he said conversationally as if mind-reading were part of his arsenal. "You have no idea what it would be like under me." The corner of his lips crooked. He released my hair, his touch disappearing from my waist, and suddenly I was the cold one. "Deal?" He raised his head and looked around.

The remaining crowd frozen in a stasis murmured around us, their collective reverie broken as he studied each face, then brought his gaze back to mine.

"Well, Sutcliff? Will you play my game?"

I raised my chin, holding his gaze and had no idea what the fuck I was doing.

"Deal."

His soft laugh followed me through the campus for the rest of the day.