Page 10 of Wicked Prince

The redhead laughs.

The brunette just seems uncomfortable. "Um, we'll let you guys talk, then," she says, taking her friend's arm. "Come on, Maya."

As awkward as it is to have an audience, I find myself wishing they'd stayed once we're alone. Before things can get any worse, I decide to speak up.

"Look, I'm sorry about last night. I know it's your mom and you have to defend her. I really didn't want things to end up like this."

Kayleigh listens in silence, staring at me like I've grown a second head, which I'm not sure is an improvement upon the pure, unadulterated disgust of a few seconds ago.

"Last night?" she scoffs. "You think I give a shit what illegitimate trash like you thinks of my mother? You're nothing.Lessthan nothing. Or did you really think we were going to be sisters?" she asks in a mockingly sweet tone. "For all anyone knows, your whore of a mother just convinced Dad you're his."

That undoes what little is left of my resolve. I can put up with her saying whatever she wants about me, since it's obvious the version of herself she showed at dinner is just a mask, but no one talks shit about my mother.

Especially not this bitch.

I slap her before I even realize what's happened, and while my ears are ringing as blood and adrenaline rush through my veins, I don't regret it. Whatever the consequences are, that look of shock on her face is worth it.

"If you ever talk about my mother again, I'll give you all the proof you could want that I'm more of a Carillo than you'll ever be," I seethe.

She stares at me with a blank expression for a few solid seconds, and while I'm fully prepared for her to retaliate, I'm not surprised when she doesn't. Between the two of us, I'm willing to bet I'm the only one who's ever been in a physical fight, let alone won.

"I hope that cheap little shot was worth it," she says, her voice frigid and so calm it's admittedly a little unnerving. So is the smirk on her cherry pink lips. "I was just going to ignore you and let natural selection take care of the rest, but congrats. Now, you've got my attention."

She turns and walks away before I can ask what the hell that's supposed to mean. Not that it matters. There's one thing I do know for certain.

I've just started a war.

ChapterFive

AMELIA

First day of school jitters have always been just a fact of life for me, but this is on a whole other level. After my interaction with Kayleigh at the bookstore, something tells me I'm not going to be able to just get by on invisibility.

I just had to go and slap her. Not that I can really bring myself to regret it after what she said. Guess the apple didn't fall far from the tree when it comes to her and her mother.

And I mean, at least Natalie has a reason to hate my mother, considering she was the other woman. The fact that Mom was just a kid herself probably doesn't matter to someone like Natalie, who would rather take her anger out on everyone around her than the person who actually deserves it.

Kayleigh, though… She's the one who grew up in privilege. She's the one who's lived a life I could only dream of as our father's favorite child, and the only one he's actually willing to publicly acknowledge as his daughter. If I can find a way to try to bury the hatchet between our parents, she could, too, but it's clear she isn't interested.

It isn't like she could possibly see me as a threat to her position. I'm not even allowed to call myself Dad's daughter, so I don't know what she thinks I'm capable of taking from her even if I wanted to.

Ironically, she would probably be the only person on my side about the whole disappearing-and-never-coming-back thing that’s been brewing in my mind, but I have to keep it from her as much as anyone since I wouldn't put it past her to rat me out just to spite me.

Even if my plan benefits her.

I just have to try getting through the first day of school. I can worry about the rest later. I have five classes on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, and three on Tuesdays and Thursdays. The course schedule looks pretty much like what you'd expect from any other college, with an array of arts and sciences.

As a first year, I have to take a diverse course load including classes in history, biology, sociology, Italian—of course—and some class that’s only labeled "logistics." I have no idea what that's supposed to mean, but I figure I'll find out soon enough.

I never actually got the opportunity to choose any electives, although Italian is listed as one of them. Looks like Dad chose my courses for me. I'm not surprised, since he probably thinks I would choose basket weaving or something if left to my own devices.

I'm not inclined to change it, though, even if I could probably get away with it by going to the Registrar's office. The more I understand what's going on around me, the better, and it seems like as good of a language as any to learn at Bainbridge.

Especially in the Carrillo family.

The campus is beautiful in the early morning, I have to admit. Fog hovers over the frosty grounds and the overcast sky is the perfect backdrop for this world of ivy and elegance that seems so far out of time. Aside from the odd smartphone, the scene I find myself part of as I walk to my first class would be difficult to pin to a certain era.

I feel a little less out of place in my uniform, since all the girls wear the same one—a navy blue blazer with sleeves rolled up to reveal the pinstripe interior lining, a fitted white shirt, a tie with stripes of blue, white, and red, and finally, a pleated blue skirt. We're allowed to wear whatever shoes we want, so long as they're black and the heels aren't higher than two inches. Wouldn't want to be too wild or anything.

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