The Help (Kings of Linwood Academy, #1)

by Callie Rose

This is Samuel Black’s son, I’m sure of that. He’s got the same almost-black hair as his father, although it’s longer and a little more wild. His eyes are an amber honey color, a vivid contrast to his dark hair, and he’s got a long, straight nose, high cheekbones, and angular features.

Jesus. Is poor little rich boy mad his daddy made him shake hands with the help?

Lincoln is standing on the second-floor balcony, hands braced on the railing, gaze locked on me. It’s only then that I realize his rude behavior earlier was actually him holding back—putting on a mask of civility. He must’ve been restraining himself, keeping his emotions in check in front of his dad and my mom. Because the look on his face now? It’s one of pure loathing.

It fucking sucks that there’s a guy in this house who’s my age—a hot as hell guy, even—and he turned out to be a major asshole.

I’m not here to ogle the rich kids. I’m just here to work.

The worst thing about this new job is the fucking uniforms we have to wear. I swear to God, they’re just this side of being sexy French maid Halloween costumes. What is this, the nineteen-fifties?

I guess if the uniform is good for anything, it’s reminding me that being a housekeeper, working for these filthy rich people, is just what I do. It’s not who I am.

Of course the hot asshole would have three hot friends. They always seem to move in packs.

Jesus. Have they really been talking about me this whole time? Analyzing my body, my face, my flaws? I don’t really give a shit what these guys think of me. If they think my boobs are too big, too small, too whatever—it doesn’t matter to me. They can go fuck themselves.

Fuck. Fuck! Dammit, Low, how could you be so fucking stupid? These guys might be dicks, and they might be entitled assholes, but they became that way for a reason. Because their money gives them power. They act like they can have and do whatever they want because… they can.

Lincoln’s gaze is fierce, and despite my fear, despite my worry about getting fired, I find annoyance rising inside me too. Why is he always like this? What the hell is his fucking problem?

“I know what you’re after. I know what you want.” His eyes narrow as he leans even closer, looming over me. “You think I haven’t played this game before?” “What? What are you talking about?”

I can’t help thinking that he’s going to try to get back at me for this somehow though. If not by getting me fired, than by some other means. He doesn’t seem like the type to let things go easily, if the few encounters I’ve had with him so far have been any indication.

what the fuck did he mean by all that “I know what you want” talk? What does he think I’m after?

“Have fun at school!” she gushes. “Don’t hurry back if you make new friends or something. I’ll hold down the fort here.” “Okay, thanks.” I shrug on my backpack, deciding not to tell her that’s not really how high school works—especially not if you’re the new senior-year transfer student in a school of overprivileged trust fund babies.

Before I reach it though, there’s a sort of… wave in the hallway around me, like a ripple of energy passing through the crowd. When I glance up, I see the cause immediately. Lincoln and his buddies strut down the hall like they’re the goddamn kings of Linwood.

“This is a private conversation.” My eyebrows shoot up, and a choked laugh escapes my mouth before I can stop it. “Oh, is it?” Her cheeks flush, and several different emotions cross her face before she settles on anger again. “It would be, if you’d stop listening in, you skank! Don’t you have something to go clean?” Oh Jesus. So that really has made it around the entire school. “I could clean out your locker,” I offer with a shrug. “But I forgot my extra strong bitch bleach.”

“Oh, and for the record—if I were going to eavesdrop, I’d pick a much more interesting conversation than one about boys and the fucking cheerleading squad. Try being more predictable next time.”

Lincoln, River, Dax, and Chase are in a corner, surrounded by a few pretty girls, but I can feel them watching me. Almost as if me walking around the cafeteria talking to other kids is making them nervous somehow. Like they thought I’d be eating lunch in the bathroom or something, and they’re not quite sure why I’m here at all.

They use an abandoned warehouse space that one of their families owns and host card games every other weekend or so. “But you wouldn’t be interested in something like that,” he assures me, flashing me a smile that’s somehow both skeevy and condescending. “It’s a really high buy in. Not for pool girls.” I grit my teeth. Motherfucking assholes.

It’s weird. At home, he never talks to me and barely ever looks at me. But at school, I can always feel his gaze on me if we’re anywhere in the same vicinity. And he talks to me a lot at school, although he never has nice things to say.

The thing about learning poker from two heavily tattooed old men in the chemo center of Bayard Medical is that I didn’t just learn how to play the game. I learned how to win. Over the hours and hours we spent playing, I learned how to use every tool at my disposal to turn the odds in my favor.

Don’t ask me what it is about getting beaten at poker by a woman, but for some reason, it tends to make men horny. Maybe it’s just a last ditch effort to prove their masculinity, who knows.

“I’m sorry about your mom’s car.” My eyebrows shoot up in surprise—that’s just about the last thing I expected him to say. “Did you do it?” “What?” He shoots me an irritated glance. “No. I said I was fucking sorry it happened, not that I was the one who did it.” “Are you just mad someone else thought of it before you?” I ask with a snort.

“What the fuck are you doing, Savannah?” I crane my neck to look at her as she answers. “What? I didn’t do anything. She fell.” When their irate expressions don’t budge, she scoffs, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “What the hell do you care? She’s just your maid.” “Yeah,” Lincoln answers, his voice low. “My maid. So don’t fucking break her. Unless you want to come clean my house?”

“I wouldn’t—that’s not—” she huffs. “I don’t do that.” “Didn’t think so.” Lincoln smirks. “So maybe back the fuck off the girl who does.”

“Yeah. We’re identical.” Chase grins. “Except I got all the good looks, and Dax got the small hands and tiny di—” “Shut up, motherfucker.” Dax punches his arm hard before he can finish that sentence, and I raise my eyebrows. “I have an extremely large dick,” he adds. “I dunno. I’ve seen better,” I say pointedly, flicking a glance down toward his crotch.

Dammit. I swear to God, if Lincoln or his friends do anything to fuck shit up for my mom and me, I’ll find some way to fuck their shit up right back.

I lost my virginity when I was fifteen, a few years after I realized I was actually going to live to see my twenties and beyond. And I like sex. As far as I’m concerned, it’s one of the highlights of being alive. What I don’t like is people who use it as a weapon or a tool to get what they want, and that’s what Savannah and Iris seem to be all about. Their whole feud over Trent isn’t about him as a person, it’s about which one of them lands the star football player.

All four of the kings seem pissed at me again, actually. Not that we were ever really friendly, but the temperature on the usual cold front has been turned down to well below freezing.

People keep coming, and my mom and I exchange exhausted and bemused looks when no one’s watching. I’ve never been around this many massively rich people at once, and it’s almost like a cloud of money permeates the air around them.

Lincoln’s gaze darts back and forth between the two of us, and I can see clear irritation on his face. But whatever. Fuck him. If he’s got a problem with his friends being sort of nice to me sometimes, that’s his issue to deal with.

He huffs a breath, letting out a disappointed sounding chuckle. “You’re a lot better at bluffing when you’re at the poker table, Pool Girl. Didn’t anybody ever tell you you shouldn’t lie either?” I snort. “That’s rich, coming from a guy who lives in a house basically built on lies.”

Dax and Chase show back up downstairs while I’m still cleaning in my pajamas, and they shoot curious glances at me as I keep my head down and work. Fuck them. It’s their fault I’m stuck doing this. Theirs and Lincoln’s. I should’ve told him the truth. No matter how much it hurt him.

“Congrats on your perfect score,” a sickly sweet voice croons from my left, and I glance over to see Savannah smiling at me. She’s leaning against a low brick wall that edges the sidewalk on this side of the school, and her face set in a smug mask. Oh my fucking God. Of course. I didn’t cheat on the test, but someone did—on my behalf. Probably knowing exactly what would happen when the scores were calculated. She’s been pissed as shit at me ever since she caught Trent hitting on me, so instead of sabotaging my test, she made sure I did too well.

When I turn to find a seat, I hesitate for a second. River is sitting at a desk in the back row, watching me with a surprised look on his face. I’m not sure why—it’s not like we’re friends or anything—but I head toward the back and take the seat one over from his. As I settle into the chair, he turns to face me more fully, gaze still locked on my face. “What are you in for?” he murmurs. “I punched Savannah in the mouth.”

I’m sure this really is about setting Trent up, but I’m also sure they’re enjoying the hell out of the fact that they managed to incorporate a little extra humiliation for me.

For fuck’s sake. I can’t believe I’m about to infiltrate some skeezy-ass strip club in a skeezy-ass part of town dressed like a cocktail waitress. Some weird shit has happened to me since I got to Fox Hill, but this has to at least make the top five.

“Well?” Lincoln cranes his neck to peer back at me. “Did you get it?” “No.” He scowls in the darkness. “What? Why not? Dammit, Pool Girl, you owe River—” “Yeah, I tried,” I say testily. “I didn’t do it because Iris showed up.” Chase’s forehead wrinkles. “What?” “Yeah, that’s what I said.” I shrug. “She stormed into the club and reamed him out. Apparently, he stood her up in favor of strippers.”

“Harlow. Breathe, baby. Just breathe. Just look at me and breathe.”

All I can focus on are Chase’s eyes. They’re such a clear, bright blue, and they usually spark with humor. But there’s something else in them now, an intensity I’ve never seen before. He lies down on the bed next to me, his sky-blue gaze still connected with mine. “Good,” he whispers. “Keep breathing.”

His hands move up my shoulders, and one slides around the back of my neck, threading through the hair at the base of my skull, while the other traces the line of my jaw. I freeze, blinking at him as his thumb skims lightly over my lower lip. He’s staring at it, but I’m not sure he’s really seeing it. His mind seems a million miles away. “It’ll be okay, Harlow,” he murmurs. “No one will hurt you. But you have to trust me on this.”

My lip curls, and I pull my chin out of his grasp. Goddammit. Every time I think he’s shown another side of himself, he reminds me it’s all the same stupid side. Selfish. Entitled. Condescending.

“Yeah, I get it, sir. Duly noted. Don’t worry, I’ll be a good little maid.” My nostrils flare. “I’ll keep your damn secret, but I don’t want anything else to do with you, your friends, or your insane, fucked up world. Leave me out of your plans and your stupid schemes from now on. And as far as I’m concerned, my favor to River has been cashed in. I don’t owe any of you shit.”

I never get to finish that sentence, because in two strides, Lincoln closes the distance between us and kisses me. Hard. This kiss isn’t the end of our fight, it’s a continuation of it, and his lips press against mine with bruising intensity, like he’s trying to shut me up and prove something to me at the same time.

It’s not a sweet kiss. It’s not even a hot kiss. It’s more like a natural disaster, a tornado tearing through the landscape, destroying everything in its path and leaving the world as it once existed in ruins. It’s fire. It’s pain. It’s need.

Nobody fucking needs this. And to be honest, it bugs the fuck out of me that after everything that’s happened between us, they still don’t trust me. They still feel the need to watch me like I’m going to rat them out to the police any second.

One of his arms still holds me securely to his body, but the other reaches up to brush my hair back before sweeping down the side of my face. His knuckles trail over my jawline, and the look on his face makes my heart beat painfully hard. His expression is tender and fierce at the same time, and that’s just what it feels like when he presses his lips to mine and kisses me. Tender and fierce.

Lincoln’s amber eyes gleam as he chuckles darkly. “All right, you fucker. I get it. Now can I take her home?”

“You knew Trent would pick one of us, not a poor maid like you. And you were jealous she had a chance with River when you didn’t.” My eyes roll unintentionally at that. River hated Iris. He shut her down hard at that party, and judging from how he looked when I found him outside that night, she was about the last person on earth he ever would’ve gone out with.