Page 9 of Wicked Prince

To my relief, my key card works on the first try. I really don't want to have to go back to the desk, but when I enter the massive room and realize there's only one bed, one desk, and two dressers, I think there's been a mistake.

Do I not have a roommate?

It's far more lavish than the hotel room, and as I let the door fall shut and look around my new home, it's even harder to believe I'm really here. The bed isn't the twin bunk I was expecting from all the movies I've seen with college dormitories. It's a queen bed, and it's already outfitted in basic but nice white bedclothes. The canopy overhead is draped in matching white sheer fabric. There's a huge Persian rug in the center of the room, and the dressers and desk are all made from the same rich mahogany wood. There's a bookshelf, too. It's empty, but I can solve that problem fast enough.

Damn, this place is ritzy.

If itisa mistake, it's not one I'm inclined to correct anytime soon. I've been on campus all of five minutes, and it's already clear enough how the rest of the student body feels about me. I doubt those girls just happened to be the only two snobs at the academy. I'd hoped basic clothes would make it a little less obvious I don't wear designer, but apparently not. At least the uniforms should help somewhat.

Unless my clothes aren't the only reason I stand out, which is an unnerving thought I'll have to contend with another time.

I flop back on the bed, deciding to unpack later. Even the mattress is softer than the one at the hotel. The only thing that's missing is a mint under the pillow.

Actually...

On a whim, I flip one over, and I'm kind of relieved there's nothing there. I laugh at my own stupidity as I stare up at the ceiling, trying hard to convince myself this place is for real.

Once I manage to drag myself out of bed and unpack, which only takes about half an hour, I decide I should figure out something to do with the rest of the evening.

Tomorrow is the first day of class. I supposedly have a couple of days to get all the necessary textbooks, but I decide to see if the bookstore is still open, since it's not like I have anything better to do.

Before I leave, I change into one of the new shirts I bought for fancier occasions. Apparently, merely existing at Bainbridge University is one of them.

The courtyard is busier than it was when I came in, and there's something of an amateur soccer match taking place on the huge lawn across the way. A few of the guys are shirtless, and the men of Bainbridge are clearly no exception to the whole model thing.

There's one in particular my eyes are immediately drawn to. He's tall with golden-brown hair and a chiseled jaw, like some kind of Mafia prince. His muscular torso and perfectly sculpted abs are on full display as he drives a hard kick into the ball and sends it sailing past his opponent.

"Fuck!" the other guy cries, punching the air in protest of the not-so-near miss.

Mafia Prince just throws his head back and laughs. Even hislaughis sexy.The throng of girls and a few guys watching from the sidelines seem to agree.

God, this place is a lot.

I decide to keep walking until I reach the bookstore. Definitely more my comfort zone anyway.

Of course, even the bookstore looks like a Victorian library. It takes a while for me to find my section, and there's no way all these shelves are devoted solely to required texts. As I browse, cross-referencing the emails my professors sent out ahead of the semester to make sure I have the right editions, I hear a familiar voice from the next few stacks over.

"There's no way the gymnasium is big enough. It’ll have to be the formal ballroom," Kayleigh insists. "Besides, there has to be an ambiance to the whole affair. We're not NYU."

The two girls with her laugh, and I realize they're coming my way. Before I can decide whether to hide or say hello, they come around the corner of the aisle, and Kayleigh stops in her tracks.

She's flanked by two girls every bit as gorgeous as she is. The short, curly-haired brunette at her left side stops and looks me over, her brown eyes glinting with curiosity. The tall, pale redhead to Kayleigh's right looks between me and her friend, who's suddenly stopped talking.

"Kayleigh. Hey," I say stiffly.

I’ve figured the next time we ran into each other would be awkward, but I'd hoped she would be alone so I could at least apologize. I don't regret a word I said to her mother, really, but I know all the drama put her in an uncomfortable position and that definitely wasn't the foot I wanted to get off on after finally meeting my half-sister.

Whatever trance she's in is broken when I speak, and she goes from a blank expression to one of absolute disgust, as if a cockroach scuttling along the floorboards has just started talking to her.

"You two know each other?" the brunette asks doubtfully, looking between us the way her friend did.

Kayleigh doesn't answer. Her blue eyes remain locked on me. They’re as icy as her mother's.

"You look familiar," the redhead says, squinting a little. Her eyes widen like she's just had a major realization and she turns to Kayleigh. "Oh my God, is this the cousin you were talking about?"

"Step-cousin," Kayleigh adds pointedly. "She's hardly even family. Just some trash left over from my aunt's new husband's last marriage. Dad took pity and pulled some strings to get her in here."

I clench my jaw, biting back the hurt and anger that immediately well up in response. At least someone has a solid grasp on my cover story. The only reason I don't immediately snap is because technically, I can't really blame her for being pissed at me. I did not make a good first impression.

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