Chapter 11
The Newburn estate was a madhouse. Furniture trucks jammed the driveway, workers hauling out fancy beds and dressers like they were staging a high–end showroom.
The butler stood at the gate, hollering orders like a coach on game day. “Careful, people! Don’t nick that pearl on the vanity!
“Those chandelier diamonds? Worth more than your house!”
A loud growl shattered the chaos. A red–and–black Harley roared into the courtyard, so fast it was a blur of color.
The bike screeched to a halt, tires smoking, the air reeking of burnt rubber.
The workers gawked as a long leg in black jeans swung down to steady the bike.
The rider yanked off his helmet, silver hair catching the sunlight like he was born to steal the spotlight.
“Well, damn, someone finally getting the boot?” he said with a sly grin.
His blue eyes swept the scene. With sharp, mixed–race features–deep eyes, killer cheekbones, and a nose like a model’s–he was a walking heartbreaker. A tiny crescent scar under his left eye only added to the vibe.
Over six feet tall, his leather jacket hugged a lean waist, and his short sleeves showed off arms marked with faint scars.
The butler hustled over, wiping his sweaty forehead. “Mr. Newburn, maybe take it easy on the throttle next time? For safety.”
Gavin flicked his silver hair with a smirk. “Ease up? That’s your worry, not mine. So, who’s outta here? Wait-”
He clocked the pile of pink furniture. “Simon going full–on prom queen now?”
Matthew dabbed his brow. “No, it’s-”
“Wahhh! Boo–hoo!” A sob cut him off. Ariel, in a frilly princess dress, stumbled over, tears streaming.
Gavin threw up a hand. “Hold up, she’s the one getting kicked out? Uh… what’s her name again?”
Gavin was Ariel’s younger brother, a junior and the school’s resident bad boy. Grades? Garbage. Fights? He never lost. Juvie was practically his second home, and nobody could handle him.
Ariel barely saw him–he was always out causing trouble, rarely crashing at the house.
Their dad, Howell, ignored him; their mom, Samara, gave up long ago; and at school, Ariel dodged him like he was contagious.
Gavin eyed the sobbing Ariel, not a drop of pity in sight.
“Hey, back off, don’t cry all over my ride,” he snapped, nudging her aside like she was a pest.
Ariel tripped, then spotted the custom furniture at the gate–pricey stuff their dad and brother got for Joanna. Her gut twisted.
She was the real Newburn princess, but she’d never gotten this treatment.
A diamond–studded chandelier? A vanity with a freaking pearl? And that million–dollar princess bed. She’d begged for one, but her dad said no way.
1/2
Chapter 11
Yet they bought it for Joanna.
Ariel’s face twisted with jealousy. Gavin couldn’t care less. He whistled and headed to his “baby“-his prized Harley.
In the garage, he peeled off his shirt, showing off a chiseled frame–broad shoulders, eight–pack abs, and a tight waist cinched by his belt.
He crouched down, grabbing a screwdriver to mess with the bike’s parts.
Then he froze. “What the hell? Who smashed my baby’s engine?”
His face darkened, eyes locking onto Joanna, who was strolling nearby.
Without a word, he snatched a wrench, oil–stained hands and all, and stormed toward her.
In the distance, Ariel rubbed her sore foot–the one she’d used to bash the engine–and smirked.
