Page 26 of Ruin Me
Thayer’s laugh cuts through the tension, low and dangerous. “And some of us enjoy playing more than others.”
“Focus on survival first,” Harrison advises, his words almost lost to the wind. “The rest comes later.”
Survival.
Well, if there is one thing I know how to do and do well, it’s survive.
Callum pauses as we reach the main building, turning to face me. “First rule of The Syndicate,” he says, his voice a low growl that commands attention. “Never let your guard down.”
“Second rule,” Thayer says, his grin sharp, “enjoy the ride.”
I draw in a deep breath, letting the cool air fill my lungs, steadying my racing heart. My mind races with possibilities, with dangers lurking in every shadow. This new life is a maze, and I’m at the entrance without a map. But I have something better—I have allies, strong, powerful, take-no-prisoners allies.
“Third rule,” Quentin adds, his hand coming torest lightly on my shoulder, a gesture that feels oddly comforting, “trust us to watch your back.”
“Fourth rule,” Harrison concludes, his eyes meeting mine with an intensity that leaves no room for doubt, “never lose sight of who you really are.”
I’m guessing he means my father’s daughter, not just plain old Vogue Jameson from the wrong side of the tracks.
“Get to class,” Callum says. “Soon, everyone will know you’re one of us.”
His words sound like a harbinger of doom.
Maybe they are.
Maybe this will work in my favour, and I’ll be left alone to get on with my MBA.
Or maybe I’m fooling myself, and I’m going to have to get my hands dirty just to stay alive.
I guess, as always, time will tell.
And in this case, blood will out.
15
QUENTIN
SpottingVogue ducking away from campus towards her flat, I jog to catch up with her as she walks, the late afternoon light turning everything golden around us. The campus is buzzing with students heading home, but all that fades into the background when I see her.
“Hey,” I call out, and she slows down, turning to face me with a curious tilt of her head. “Got any plans tonight?”
Vogue shakes her head, her eyes on mine. There’s a spark in them that always gets my heart thumping just a bit harder.
“Want to grab some food with me? I can pick you up in an hour.”
She considers it for a moment, then nods. “Sure, I’ll go change.”
“No need for anything fancy. Keep it comfortable.” I flash her a smile, hoping to convey some ofthe casual ease I’m not quite feeling as I take this unfamiliar step.
“Comfortable, got it.” She gives me a small, enigmatic smile before heading into her building.
As I head back to my car—a sleek black Mercedes that still feels too extravagant even though I’ve driven it for months—I can’t shake off the image of her walking away from me. My fingers brush over the cool leather of the steering wheel as I slide inside, firing up the engine. It purrs to life, a subtle reminder of the world I was born into but never grew up in, one of wealth and danger.
I drive through town, the streets familiar yet distant. Everything about my old life feels like it belongs to someone else now. I pull up at the local takeaway place, a nondescript joint with the best burgers and fries in Crestmont, which is not hard, but still pretty fucking tasty. I order the food and a couple of drinks and wait. I’m sure Callum would try to impress her with a fancy restaurant and expensive wine, but I get the feeling she will appreciate this more.
When the food is ready, I snatch up the paper bag and drinks tray, and with it all safely stashed in the Merc, I make my way back to her flat. She’s waiting outside, even though I’m early, looking like she stepped out of one of those paintings you see in stuffy art galleries. She’s all long lines and soft curves in a flowery dress that brushes against her calves, flat shoes, and a black denim jacket. Her hair cascades in waves, catching the last of the sunlight.
For a second, I just sit there and watch her, struck by the sight. Vogue isn’t like the girls I used to know. She’s real in ways that leave me feeling raw, like she could see right through the walls I’ve built up over the years.
