Page 12 of Pretty Secrets

“If you ask me, Keegan doesn’t seem like the type to get his hands dirty.”

He’s got a point. If I were a Knight and wanted to take someone out, I’d hire a professional. “Unless it was a crime of passion….”

“Okay, come on,” Oliver says, trying to reel me in. “Let’s not get stuck on one person. It could’ve been anyone.”

“Which is why it’s horseshit that they got rid of all the outside witnesses before they even called the police.”

“That’s typical, though,” Oliver hedges. “Minimize the scandal. If the cops came and there were all these women there ready to entertain old men, that would’ve been the focus of the news. Currently, it sounds like a tragic death, but news of a scandalous party with half-naked college girls hired as entertainment for a secret society of men mostly three times their age would be a whole different story to contain. Absolute rubbish,” he spits.

His frustration is well-founded. He’s always being dragged into royal drama, and everything he does is dissected and spun until it makes him look like the ultimate bad boy. If the paparazzi were to get a photo of us together, the headline would read something like Bad Boy Royal Stalking American. “No one knows you’re here, right?” I ask hopefully.

“No, I pulled some cloak and dagger shit. I figure the best place to hide is in a private yuppie school where everyone else is as self-absorbed as I am, so no one will care about me.”

“Except you got that greeting last night,” I remind him, smirking.

“Yeah, I’ll pass,” he grunts, turning away.

“Are you kidding? Don’t say that. I’m the best wing woman you’ve ever had. Actually, you could’ve totally gotten into Holly’s pants if you wanted.”

He flicks his gaze to me and the same feelings from this morning pop up again. Immediately, my stomach clenches and I peer away.

“Whatever you say, Edie,” he responds solemnly.

“Don’t let me kill your vibe this year,” I tell him nonchalantly after picking up my drink to take a sip. “You know how the Americans just love your accent. You’ll be the hottest thing on campus.”

“I’m only here for one reason.”

His words punch a hole in my chest, and as he stares, I make a vow not to fall into old patterns when it comes to my best friend. For both of our sakes.

6

Leo

Thinly veiled anger threads through me as I approach the gate to my grandfather’s estate, pandering to the emergency summons I received from him a half hour ago.

After inputting the code, the iron bars swing free, and I coast up the driveway while the replica of the White House comes into view. When I was little, he told me to dress for the way I wanted people to treat me, for the job I wanted, and for the life I deserved. He took that to the extreme when he built this place. It’s a joke amongst he and his friends, but in reality, his superiority complex knows no bounds. If someone as devious as my grandfather ever made it that high up the political ladder, America would have a lot more problems than they think they do.

I twist the key in the car’s ignition and the growling engine cuts out abruptly. Whenever he requests my presence, I never enjoy it. Coupled with the fact that I’m tired as fuck from watching the Astor girl stroll around town with her boyfriend most of the day, I have serious doubts that I’ll walk back out of here calm and collected. I’ll be surprised if I can keep myself in check enough to avoid a confrontation with him.

After letting myself in the front door, I stride toward Grandfather’s office. Despite it being just him, every light in the house is on. My grandmother died a couple years ago of cancer, which allowed my grandfather to focus even more on his business and desires. He lives with his power and greed openly now.

“In here, Leonardo,” my grandfather’s steady voice beckons.

No doubt he’s tracked my approach on the dozens of cameras he has set up around the property. When I appear in the doorway, he peers at me over the rims of his glasses before waving me inside. “Come in.”

The patriarch of the Jarvis family, though long past middle-aged, is surprisingly well-kept. Striking silver hair styled across the crown of his head makes him less elderly looking and more distinguished. There’s not one thing about his looks that suggests he’s frail or weak. It’s the opposite, actually. When I was a kid, he told me he drank the blood of his enemies to stay in good shape, and I believed him for the longest time. The few creases currently marring his forehead have only recently embedded his flawless skin, only pointing to the fact that he’s too busy with business matters that he’s flaked on his Botox appointments. “You wanted to see me?”

His lips thin at my greeting. Franklin Jarvis is nothing if not old school. He frowns at my appearance, but it doesn’t get to me like it used to. My grandfather and I have a sordid history. I’ve never been smart enough, savvy enough, or good enough for my family name. My own father almost drank himself into an early grave because of this man, so I should be happy I haven’t succumbed yet. “Still obstinate, I see.”

“Same as the last time we spoke.”

He mutters under his breath something that sounds suspiciously like rotten egg. The truth is, my grandfather hates most things about me. My tattoos, my disdain for tradition, my lack of respect. But there’s one thing we’ll always have in common that I can’t stand when it’s reflected back in his eyes: the crave for power. I don’t want to sit in an office chair all day, but I sure as fuck love the high of having people scurry around me like they don’t want to even breathe in my direction for fear of my reaction. Louder, my grandfather says, “I’m going to regret this, but something has come up.”

The way his gaze drags across the tattoos skirting up my arms makes me smirk. I don’t bother hiding it, and we end up glaring at one another. Anytime I can make the old man unhappy is a win in my book, especially since he takes so much pleasure in making my life a living hell.

I don’t break first, though I know I should. I’m fucking tired from following a girl around that makes my dick hard. That is…usedto make my dick hard. She went shopping and came out looking exactly like every other rich bitch I grew up with. After that, I was done for the day. I skipped out early when she and her boyfriend left the café in town. She’s boring as fuck—a sheep. If Grandfather’s worried about her, he’s getting fucking senile.

Instead of going to my place to take a nap, I ended up calling an old friend to fuck out some of my pent-up frustration. I was balls deep inside her when Grandfather called and requested this meeting. I fucked her real slow, her red hair wrapped in my hand, as I confirmed I would be here. Right before I hung up, I slammed inside her so hard her scream would’ve been the last noise he heard before the line disconnected.

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