Page 133 of Vying Girls
‘In a spot of bother, huh?’ Blakely says, leaning on the kitchen island with folded arms.
‘Whole life’s a fucking bother.’
She snorts. ‘We got rid of the bastard. He won’t be setting foot back on this island. Not without some nasty, nasty consequences.’
‘You don’t know Damien.’
‘He doesn’t know us.’
‘Tilda’s not on Hazelhurst. She’s vulnerable. Not answering her phone.’
Blakely sucks her teeth. ‘Sitting duck.’
‘Damn stupid duck.’
She grins. ‘Fucking girls. Always wanting a knight moment.’
I stand up when Fina returns, clothed in black jeans and a leather jacket. She’s not tall, not like me and Blakely, but she’s got presence. A dark one. One I wouldn’t want to fuck with. I’m pushing it today as it is.
‘Let’s go,’ she says quietly.
I bounce on my heels impatiently as Fina turns a fat key in the lock of Zaccaro’s office, looking up and down the empty corridor.
The inside smells of must and books, the warm, dark wood a contrast to the stone of the corridor. With a sigh, she hops into the chair, one leg pulled to her chest as she boots up the computer.
She swivels around as she waits, watching me peruse the bookshelves. Not that I’m reading a single title. My anger for Tilda grows by the second, smothering my worry.
‘How do I know you’re being genuine?’ Fina asks, rubbing her angular chin musingly. ‘Wouldn’t be the first time someone’s tried to pull one over on me. And Damien…he was one of our own.’
‘Believe me, there’s nothing I want to do less than run around after her. Gonna kill her if Damien hasn’t already.’
‘Gonna get the spanking of her life?’ Blakely says with a grin.
‘I’ll leave that to Haz.’
She chuckles. There’s a hint of a smile on Fina’s face as she turns back to the computer, punching in the login details.
Does Zaccaro know his kid’s got access like this? That’s some breach. Most of the country’s top toffs have been moulded by Hazelhurst. The information in that computer is a weapon.
‘Full name,’ Fina says, fingers poised above the keys.
‘Matilda Kingston.’
She nods approvingly. ‘Strong. Alright, Matilda Kingston, where are ya?’ She does the tongue thing again as she scrolls, the screen illuminating her eyes. ‘Got your phone?’
When I shake my head, she rips off a sticky note, quickly penning the address.
She holds it out, snatching it back just as I go to take it. ‘Anything more and I’m gonna start taking payment.’
I take the paper, making a protective fist around it. ‘Last thing. I promise.’
Tilda
All these years of contention between me and Mum, I’ve never felt the kind of trepidation at the thought of returning home as I do now.
The house doesn’t look much different. Small, a little run-down, the tiny front garden blooming with weeds. It’s always a disappointment after the grandeur of Hazelhurst, something I used to berate myself for.
I promised myself I’d never let the place turn me into a snob. But it’s not just the pretty buildings now, but the girls who feel like home in a way Mum never has.
