MY HYBRID STEPBROTHERS AND I

Chapter 1

VIOLET

The strobe lights were the first thing I noticed when I arrived at the club.

Then the crowd of women and men, half naked and body colliding, and the smell of whiskey lingering in the air. It made my mouth water because it was exactly what I came here for. To drink until I was unable to recognise myself because I was tired of being the good submissive child to my mother. I came down from the car and the loud music made me smile as the hot moist air of Los Angeles hit my skin. It was not like this back in Texas.

There were barely any parties like this. I missed Texas. Too bad I was not going to visit it anytime soon. My mother had chosen to throw me into this life that I would never have chosen on my own. She met a man. One of the richest men in the country, and he wanted to get married to her immediately. I told her that I did not want to follow her. I had my life, my best friend, and my boyfriend back there and was not willing to just be plucked away from them.

But she wouldn’t allow me to even say my goodbyes to them. She made me pack whatever I was going to need when I came here because apparently, my life had already been set here. I had a brand new wardrobe which I didn't even mind checking when I arrived, and I have been enrolled into a college here because she did not want me to be away from her. Sometimes I wonder if she forgets that I was an adult and I could take care of myself.

I sighed as I weaved through the crowd, trying to find the bar to get something that was going to help me drown out my pain. The pain of losing my entire life, and breaking up with my boyfriend over text. I was sure Oliver was going to see it in the morning and then he would start to blow my phone. I was not ready for that.

I heard a loud cheer from the side of the street, and I turned to see what the commotion was about. A street race was going on and two cars whooshed past the street with a speed I was barely able to comprehend. Did they have nine f*****g lives? The first car that passed the line was a red sports car. Posh and classy. The only time I ever saw cars like this was on social media because my mother and I did not live in the rich part of Texas.

I tucked my phone in my shorts as I approached the car to see the model. There were a lot of people, but I managed to push my way to the front because most of the people were wasted and didn’t really mind being pushed. In the other car, the one that lost, a man came out of it with a scowl on his face. He looked pissed, probably because he lost a bet. I knew street racing happens mainly because of competition or bets. The winner of the race came out of the car, and the sound of the cheer in the crowd became louder.

Holy crap.

He was drop-dead gorgeous. Might be the most gorgeous man I have ever seen. The typical bad boy appearance. His straight brown hair was ruffled and messy and his eyes were the colour of the sky on a perfect day in summer. The symmetry of his face made me wonder if perhaps, God had taken extra minutes to perfect the looks of this man. His smile made my toes curl behind my feet. Tattoos were running down his arms and chest, but they stopped right at his wrist.

I must have been drooling while looking at him. His eyes searched in the crowd, probably to find the lucky girl he was going to take to his room tonight. When his eyes met mine and they stayed there for more than five seconds, I knew I had just hit the damn jackpot. He approached me, a cocky boyish grin smeared on his face. It made my stomach roll.

“Have I seen you here before?” I heard him say, his voice deep and his tone in a flirty lilt, when he was close enough to me.

“No.” I managed to breathe out.

He was right in front of me, and he smelled so damn good. The crowd had moved on to the next round of racers, and the music had been changed into a better one. The whole place was loud, but all I could focus on was the handsome face of the stranger in front of me.

“Good. Because I can’t recall seeing anyone as gorgeous as you before.”

I let out an awkward laugh and rolled my eyes. I was sure he said this to a lot of women, not that I had an issue with it because it was my turn now.

“I am sure you haven’t.”

The handsome stranger smiled before he stretched out his arm for me and I hooked it into his. He could be an axe murderer. He could even be a creep. I wouldn’t normally do this, but I wanted to have a night of fun at least once. I came here to rebel against my mother for making me move away from the place I practically grew in all my life in a matter of hours. So rebel, I will. I might regret it in the morning.

“Wanna have fun?” He asked.

“That is what I came for,” I answered him, glancing towards the bar. He led us there, then dug his hands into his pockets. He brought out two 100-dollar bills and slapped it on the table, with his eyes still on me.

“Keep them coming.” He said to the bartender.

And that was what he did. The drinks kept coming. The music kept getting louder and the euphoria of it all was pumping in my veins. I started to dance with the handsome stranger. We went to the dance floor and every now and then, the drinks came and we drank all of it. At some point, I pressed my lips onto his. We started to make out, and then he withdrew away from me.

He asked me if I was sure I wanted to do this, and I could not remember my answer. All I remember was that he took me into his arms and we went somewhere in the club. A room, perhaps. And then, I had a pretty f*****g memorable night.

~

I woke up to a dull ache at the back of my head. I groaned as the sunlight from the exposed window poured into the room, making my head throb even harder. I opened my eyes, waiting for them to adjust to the light before I stretched my body. The bed was empty. I was alone. The man I had spent the night with was gone. Jerk. It was morning. My first morning in Los Angeles, and I spent it in a club.

Fuck.

My mother was going to kill me if she found out. I got up to my feet and put back my underwear and dress on. Perhaps I was reckless. Too reckless. What if he had given me an infection, or I was even f*****g pregnant? f**k! I checked my dress and thankfully, my phone and my keys were in there. I let out a sigh of relief before I sprinted out of the room. The entire place was still a mess. There were a few people who passed out, but I did not wait to look at them.

I headed to my car and opened it up before I drove out of the vicinity of the club. I tried to remember my way back home but every time, I was met with a sharp sting in my head because of the headache. After taking a few wrong turns, I reached home. I parked my car and headed into the colossal manor that is the Hawthorne residence. They were one of the richest families in the country. Classic old money. I heard that they moved occasionally, but LA happened to be the residence they always come back to.

When I got in, I immediately came face to face with my worst nightmare. My mother and Victor Hawthorne were descending down the stairs, and they had just seen me come into the house at this hour. Her eyebrows furrowed as she tossed me one of her many condescending and disappointed looks.

“Violet. Where did you go early this morning?” My mother asked. I could tell that she was trying hard to not scream at me in front of her new wealthy husband.

“I…” I could not find the words.

“Go to your room and get ready. We are having a family breakfast and you are going to your new school after,” she said to me. “Let's go, Victor.”

Victor passed me a little fatherly smile before he followed his wife to the dining room. If he thought he was going to take the role of my father, then he was delusional. I was about to head up to my room when I overheard them speaking in the dining room.

“Good morning, Mrs. Hawthorne .” I heard a male voice say, in an overly familiar voice.

I frowned as I peeked my head to check who was greeting my mother, and my breath was suddenly knocked out of my lungs at the sight of him. The handsome stranger from last night’s one night stand was standing in the dining room, his lips pressed to my mother’s hand.