Contempt (Coastal Elite #3) Read Online Sam Mariano

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Dark, New Adult Tags Authors: Series: Coastal Elite Series by Sam Mariano
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Total pages in book: 160
Estimated words: 155405 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 777(@200wpm)___ 622(@250wpm)___ 518(@300wpm)
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My stepbrother, my tormentor…

I had a plan to get through senior year. Get good grades, stay busy with clubs, don’t forget to carve out time for Mom and Hannah, and most importantly, stay far, far away from Landon Atwater.

That plan collapsed at the end of summer when my mom announced her surprise engagement… to Landon’s father.

Now, I have to live with the jerk who has spent years tormenting me. At school, I could make sure we weren’t in the same classes and turn the other way if I saw him in the halls, but avoiding him gets a lot harder when I’m living in his seaside mansion.

Especially because he doesn’t want to be avoided.

Landon has always loved taunting and controlling me, but now he has the ultimate advantage and he’s not afraid to use it. Landon is the chaos machine that could blow up this newly minted family—and my mom’s chance at happiness—and, unfortunately for me, he knows I won’t let him.

I was prepared to be on my guard at school, but I didn’t plan to spend senior year avoiding capture in my own home.

Unfortunately, it seems Landon has a plan of his own.

And no lock on my bedroom door is going to keep him from accomplishing it.

Contempt is book three in the Coastal Elite series. Readers first meet Parker and Landon in book two, Undertow, which is where their story begins. Contempt is intended for a mature adult audience only, and anyone requiring trigger warnings is urged to read the one at the beginning of the book.

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

“A true lover is continually and without interruption obsessed by the image of his beloved.” -Andreas Capellanus

Chapter One

Parker

The top box tilts as I make my way down the stairs as carefully as I’m able. I stop, looking up at it and hoping it settles because if it falls, every box on the stack will plummet down the stairs and I’ll be lucky if I don’t lose my balance and go with them.

I should have just carried fewer boxes and made a second trip, but this house has so many stairs, and we’ve been at this for so long. I just want to get it done so I can sit down.

Moving day.

Also known as my descent into the bowels of Hell.

I’ve been dreading today since the moment my mom told me we were moving in with the Atwaters. I couldn’t even sleep last night, too busy tossing and turning and thinking way too much about all the possible horrors today—and the rest of the days I have to spend here—might hold.

Last time Landon and I were in a room alone together, he realized he can use my determination not to ruin things between his dad and my mom against me.

The time before that, he imprisoned me in my bedroom until I called the cops for help after he broke into my house.

And the first time…

Let’s just say I’m really hoping we can make it through this year without there being a fourth.

I don’t need the A I have in advanced statistics to know that is incredibly unlikely, but it is what I’m hoping for.

Moving in with the Atwaters seems a lot to my logical brain like standing on the deck of the Titanic with a bailer bucket, trying to throw water out faster than it can pour in so we don’t sink.

I’ve seen the movie and read the books. My brain knows how that story ends, but my heart is another organ entirely. It cannot and will not be reasoned with. I am one thousand percent certain that by sheer force of my will, I will keep this goddamn ship afloat.

I will not let Landon Atwater sink it, no matter how hard he tries.

I only have to do this for a year.

Less, really.

More like eleven months. Just a slow blink in the overall span of my life.

I can do this.

I can carry the boxes, too. I smile, seeing the top box up there defying gravity as it settles into place. “Good box. I appreciate you.”

When I was a kid, I always loved the movie Matilda. I didn’t relate to the shitty family she had since my mom is legitimately the best, but I could relate to what her life must have been like after she got to live with Miss Honey. I liked to imagine my brain was so strong, it could move objects, too.

Looking at myself now, I think that’s probably something I should have grown out of, but here I am, convinced I can move all the resistance in the world by the sheer force of my determination.

Oh well.

I’m gonna make it true.

I make my way down the stairs without dying and use my shoulder to push open the door of the Atwaters’ in-home gym. I keep my ears peeled for the sound of weights being released and clanking into each other and feel relieved when I don’t hear anything.

I haven’t actually seen Landon in a while, and that makes me nervous. I need to put a tracker on him or something so I can be aware of his location in the house at all times.

Yeah, that’s a good way to live.

I shove that unhelpful logic aside and turn the corner.

My heart slams to a stop when I catch sight of movement, then accelerates like it’s on jet fuel when my mind grapples with the reality of what I’m seeing.

Landon Atwater, shirtless in just a pair of gray sweats and cross-trainers that probably cost more than my laptop. He’s using a piece of gym equipment, a metal frame with a bar across the top. His feet aren’t touching the ground and, without meaning to, I watch as he lifts himself until his chin goes above the bar. The muscles in his body flex with the effort, but he makes it look easy. He’s glistening with sweat, so I guess he’s been at it for a while.

That explains the heat in this room.

I’m so hot, I feel like I accidentally stepped into a sauna.

There is a sauna, but this room is just the workout area and it’s air-conditioned. It shouldn’t be so hard to breathe.

Must be the body heat he’s generating.

When I pry my eyes from his distracting body and meet his gaze, I see it’s locked on me, a smirk on his lips as he repeats the smooth movement of lifting himself—this time, aware that he has an audience.


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