Page 67 of Wicked Prince

That's clearly the wrong answer, judging from the exasperated look she's giving me. "Only one of my best friends for the last ten years. I swear, sometimes I think you don't even know me."

God, how I wish that were true.

I take a sip of water to give my mouth something to do other than speaking what's on my mind.

Kayleigh is still watching me suspiciously for some reason, like I'm a mystery she's trying to unravel with her eyes. "It's that whore, isn't it? You were looking at her. Again."

I feel a surge of blinding rage, and it's all I can do to keep my temper in check.

"Watch your fucking mouth," I snap with admittedly more venom than I intend.

Not that it isn't warranted, but my father already made it clear to me that Kayleigh is to be handled the same as the rest of her family—with kid gloves. She's an explosive, temperamental diva on her best days. Anything could set her off, let alone actual anger, and the fact that all her righteous indignation vanishes and turns to pouting the moment I put her back in her place is proof enough of that.

I know I have to save face, considering my reaction is not exactly justified for a random stranger. "She's your sister," I say once I trust myself to speak without sounding menacing. "What you say about her, you say about yourself. And since we're publicly together now, that reflects poorly on my family as well."

She eyes me warily, and I can tell she doesn't quite buy it. I guess she isn't that airheaded, after all. "Since when do you care what our families think?"

"I'm not some freshman who can spend all day partying," I answer. "I have to start taking on more responsibilities, and that includes keeping up appearances. I need someone at my side with class, not a liability with a trash mouth."

"Okay, fine," she huffs. "You don't need to be so preachy about it. You’re starting to sound like my father."

"You know what they say about broken clocks."

"What?"

I sigh. "Nothing."

She shrugs it off and goes back to prattling on about the damn party I couldn't give two shits about, but at least I seem to have saved my cover.

For now.

ChapterTwenty-Seven

AMELIA

After work the following day, my phone rings while I'm still walking home, and to no surprise, it's Dad's number.

I sigh, picking up since I know I can't avoid him forever. I was hoping to at least avoid him until I hear back from the clinic, but I still haven't, so I called them this afternoon. Now I'm just hoping someone gets back to me.

"Hi, Dad," I answer.

"I take it you're feeling better, since you went to class today," he says. As usual, no greetings, just straight to business.

"How did you know that?"

"Your sister mentioned it," he answers.

I clench my jaw. "Of course she did."

"Was it supposed to be a secret?" he challenges.

"Not at all," I reply. "I just haven't had the chance to call you. I've got a big test on Monday, so I've been at the library, trying to get caught up on what I missed when I was sick."

He falls silent for a few moments, as if he's trying to find something to complain about. Instead, he says, "I'm sure you can take a break from studying for one evening. Like I said before, there's something I need to talk to you about."

Well, that sounds ominous. He's really good at that. If he ever gets tired of being a mob boss, he could have a great career in horror.

"Okay," I say warily. "What’s it about?"

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