Page 21 of Manhattan Secret

For better or worse, Lachlan Fierro is going to be my ruin.

C H A P T E R 6

Lachlan

Monday night at home is always family dinner night.

Mom goes crazy with the food until it over-spills from the table onto the island, platters of good stuff, whatever it might be that week. Tonight is Greek night.

We don’t get a choice to be here. Mom says be somewhere and we all get our asses on chairs. All except Theo who left the nest and flew away to college.

I think that’s why mom’s fussing around me lately because I’m leaving for Boston soon. Scraping off the last of the baklava from the plate, mom drops a kiss to the back of my head as she carries dishes to the sink.

“How was school today? I know it’s your last few weeks, but it doesn’t mean you can slack off, Lachie. Remember, college is still watching for any signs they made the wrong choice.”

“I know and it was good.” more than good. amazing, actually. I thought of nothing else but the little mouse since I left her classroom. “I met a girl, actually.” I confess, smirking at Sage’s eye-roll across from me. He’s furiously scribbling in his ideas notebook as he always is.

“Noah, your second born met a girl. Do we have enough bail money?” Mom chuckles. They joke I never have a steady girlfriend, just a hoard of pre-serial killer chicks who can turn volatile at any minute. Just because I had that one date with Kelly-someone, and she went a little nuts by standing outside our gate yelling for me for two days straight. It wasn’t my fault she had a piece of me and got addicted. I don’t promise monogamy or a relationship.

“I think we should move, kitten, before this new girl starts to climb the tree out back.” Dad adds.

“You realize the law says I can legally divorce you two,” I say, half smiling. “Besides, this one isn’t fucking batshit.”

“Language, Lachie.” Mom warns.

“Fine. This girl isn’t fucking crazy.”

No, Delaney is all kinds of smart and delicious temptation and I need to lap my tongue all over her. That standoff in her classroom revved my motor.

Even her fear, confusion and wariness does it for me.

God, I’m a sick little bastard.

I head out soon after dinner and get down to business.

“Money,” I hold out my hand to the kid dressed in Khakis and flip flops. Once I count the grand and a half, I slip it into my back pocket and get to work on my mini notebook computer I slide out of my inside pocket. It doesn’t take any time at all to penetrate the school district exam building, chiefly because I have backdoors in place on their servers, undetected, for effortless access, it pays to get ahead for these things. Easy money is easy money and I’m earning enough of a nest egg to go to college without relying on my parents.

Within ten minutes, I electronically wire a copy of the test this kid needs without leaving any trace that can lead back to me. “Nice doing business with you,” I smirk. “And remember, not a word, got it?”

“Yeah, yeah, got it, man, thanks.”

I leave the tenth grader in the back corner of the bar, jubilant he’ll be passing algebra, for this semester anyway. He’s on his own once I’m at MIT.

Taking the stairs, I meet my friends on the top deck ofGinger Girl. Slapping Ethan and Zander’s hands before crashing out on the semi-circle booth seat.

Not even a second went by before Riley slithers her barely covered ass in the short-shorts across the seat to squeeze up against my side, a hand on my knee. “Hey, Lachie, you look good.” Her big hazel eyes waiting expectantly for me to return the compliment. When I only hook up my beer, she huffs and tries to snuggle my arm. “Babe, you need to settle the fuck down, okay? I’m not a pillow.” She grumbles again and moves an inch to the side. Zander watches on. He’d love nothing more than for her short-shorts to climb all over his face, but he’s never made his move on her.

For the rest of the night, I attend to a little more business for kids too lazy to actually study, but by the end of the night I have a neat seven G’s in my pocket.

“Hey, what was that this morning with the new teacher chick?” Ethan asks, driving him home to Chelsea. “She seems drippy. You working an angle?”

Drippy? My head snaps towards him with disbelief.

He has fucking rocks for eyeballs if he can’t see her beauty oozing out of her every pore. She is practically what sex is made for.

In her tight, little good girl skirt and slim ankles in the Vans. I love that she wore them and not some slut shoes. Though, wouldn’t mind seeing her in those again. Naked. Just the heels. Holding onto her ankles while I give it to her.

“Don’t give her a hard time,” I warn. “Let the others know the same.”

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