Savage Royals: A Reverse Harem High School Bully Romance(3)

“Well, it’s better than being in a stranger’s home,” she said gently, but I could hear an edge creeping into her voice too. She was probably used to delinquents mouthing off at her, and she wasn’t going to stand for it. “They’re very wealthy, and they have the connections and resources to help you flourish. Trust me, this is a good thing.”

I didn’t trust her. I had a hard time trusting anyone. My dad had taught me that lesson, whether he’d meant to or not.

“Who are they?”

She glanced at her phone again. “The last name is Hildebrand. They appear to be very well known and respected in California. I’m sure you’ll be happy out there.”

I nodded slowly, trying to process her words.

It wasn’t like I had a choice. I needed somewhere to live, and even though I tried not to let it, a little spark of hope lit in my chest at the idea.

A family.

I’d always thought my dad and I were all alone, but the prospect of meeting people who were connected to me by blood pulled at something deep in my gut.

“Look.” Janet leaned forward, her lips pursing slightly. I recognized her tone as one adults used when they were about to “get real” with the kids. “I know this all seems scary and sudden, and I truly am sorry. It’s a lot to deal with on top of processing your dad’s death. But believe me, I’ve placed hundreds of children in foster homes and elsewhere, and I can tell you beyond a shadow of a doubt—the ones placed with family members almost always do better.”

Her phone buzzed again, and her gaze flicked down and back up, interrupting the rhythm of her prepared speech. Then her hand slid across the table to rest on mine.

“You’re being given a gift here, Talia. Take it.”





Chapter 2





LAX was fucking massive. I almost got run over by several people hustling to catch their flights as I made my way through the maze of bodies. When I finally reached the pick-up area, I blinked as I stepped outside into bright, warm sunshine.

“Talia,” a voice called.

I glanced up as a woman climbed out of a sleek town car. Her honey-brown hair was pulled up into a neat bun, not a single hair out of place. She wore a dress that hugged her body, the fabric light blue and soft. From a distance, she looked like she could be in her forties, though up close I could see the subtle signs of wrinkles and age.

She must’ve had some work done, but it was subtle.

I could pick out the resemblance between us easily. Both of us were lithe and a bit on the taller side, with long legs and high cheekbones. She gestured to the car, and a man bustled out to take my luggage and pop it into the trunk.

It felt weird relinquishing my bags to him when I could’ve just as easily done it myself. The social worker had mentioned my grandparents were wealthy, but everything about this woman, the car, and the silent man dressed in black screamed of affluence.

“It’s nice to meet you. I’m Jacqueline Hildebrand.” She extended her hand to me daintily.

I took it and shook, at a loss for words. I wasn’t sure what I’d expected. A hug? I honestly didn’t know if I wanted one, but shaking hands with my grandmother—one of my last remaining blood relatives—felt weird as hell. It felt more like meeting a queen than greeting family, and for a second, I debated whether I was supposed to shake her hand or kiss it.

“Come on. Your flight was twenty minutes late, and Philip is expecting us back at the house.”

She slid back into the town car and patted the seat beside her. I climbed inside, leaning back against the plush leather seats. We joined the press of traffic leaving the airport, and for a while, I focused on watching the driver navigate the bumper-to-bumper traffic. When we finally made it onto a highway, things opened up a bit, and as we emerged from the dense traffic and drove along a coastal road, I wanted to press my face to the window like a five-year-old.

Holy shit. It’s so different here.

Sand Valley was a small, blue-collar town. It was arid and barren, grungy and tired. The sun that shone there must be the same one shining here, but you’d never know it.

“Do you live near LA?” I asked breathlessly.

The woman—my grandmother—laughed. “No, we’re quite a ways north of Los Angeles. In Roseland. It’s quieter, smaller, more elite.”

I winced at the way she said elite. The word sounded sharp as a blade, and I had the distinct feeling she found LA distasteful.

“We’ve enrolled you at Oak Park Preparatory Academy.”

“Oak Park?” I asked, tearing my gaze away from the coastline.

“Yes. It’s one of the most prestigious schools in the country and only a short distance from where we live. Your mother went there when she was young.”

I blinked at her, my heart clutching in my chest. My mom had died when I was seven, so my memories of her were hazy at best. More like memories of memories. “My mom? What was she like? Did she like the school?”

Jacqueline’s lips pressed into a line. “Yes. She liked the school. And she did well there, as we expect you to.”

“I never…” I stuck my finger through a hole in the knee of my jeans, twisting it nervously. “I never knew about you guys. I didn’t know I had any other family besides Mom and Dad.”

She shifted slightly in her seat, her gaze flicking out the window. “Yes, well. Your mother left Roseland a few years after college, and that was the end of that. After she disappeared, we didn’t hear much from her. We had to hear about her death from…”