Total pages in book: 192
Estimated words: 182641 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 913(@200wpm)___ 731(@250wpm)___ 609(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 182641 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 913(@200wpm)___ 731(@250wpm)___ 609(@300wpm)
“Couple handfuls, if I had to guess.” Bronx smirks as she slips into her blazer, refusing to button the front until she absolutely has to. She waggles her brows when she meets my eyes. “Tell me they don’t scream Big Dick Energy?”
“No. They scream gonorrhea.”
Bronx laughs loudly as Saylor’s cheeks turn as red as her sparkly shoes and she quickly disappears into my closet.
“I’ll have Dom talk to them.” I frown, irritated by the entire situation, and head down the stairs. “In the meantime, we’ll beat them at their own game. Serve them a little trouble right back.” I might have been warned to keep my distance, but I was also instructed to be sure they never forget their place.
As if we would allow anyone to.
“Ooh, yes.” Bronx’s hips sway a little more. “Now I almost hope Dom doesn’t do as he’s told for once, but this is you we’re talking about. Everyone is so quick to submit.”
Not everyone, my mind whispers, flashing back to a silver loop wrapped around a faultlessly full lip before my eyes.
Frowning, I force a smile as the girls share a laugh as we continue to the main floor.
The Greyson Manor truly is a thing of beauty.
The centuries-old castle of sorts sits on a one-hundred-acre estate, a seventeen-foot iron gate wrapping around its entirety—the first level of defense against outsiders.
Rumor has it the original deed included another thirty-five acres, that land extending beyond our back gardens, and currently covered in rows of giant trees, hiding the abandoned mansion at its front, but greed is said to be the reason proof cannot be found.
The manor itself is made up of four wings: north, south, east, and west, one dedicated to each of us girls and those we wish to move into them, with the others’ approval, of course.
The single and sole entry leading to each wing meets in the same place, off the sides of the sixty-foot entryway. Only the first dozen stairs are visible from the foyer, keeping what lies beyond a mystery to those uninvited to ascend. Each wing’s stairway curves and curls in the same way, so the final step of all four meet against the same marble flooring at the same distance, representing equal ground.
The west and south wings land on the left side of the room, the east and north on the right.
If I look to my right, I find the giant oak doors trimmed in gold leading to the outside, and if I look to my left, the far wall parallel to the front door and beneath the overhanging balcony of the lounge is another set of doors, these ones larger, thicker. Bulletproof. Soundproof.
It’s the chancellor’s chambers.
As a cardinal girl of Greyson, the four points of the compass that make us go round, we are chancellors ourselves, which is our world’s way of saying our words outweigh all … with a little bit of coercion from our families, of course. But to be head chancellor is the highest point of power. The empress of all.
Or emperor, as it stands. Calvin Greyson—a.k.a. Calvin Moore—is a good chancellor, but he’s not meant for the seat he occupies. He represents the Greyson name as a whole to the outside council, unrelated to our core four families.
Calvin’s job is to work with those that are sort of like us but not a threat to our operations on the outside of our districts to keep us under the radar, so we can function within our own laws and way of life, cities hidden within cities, so to speak. He doesn’t deal in the things we do. His hands stay pristine, as intended.
He was raised, hell, he was born, to represent our generation and the one to follow. In a few years’ time, he’ll start making political moves, slowly sliding into office, and eventually, when the time comes for Delta’s grandfather to step away from the Senate, our people will do all that’s necessary to place Calvin in his position.
As my father says, we have to have an ear within the government at all times. How else would corrupt organizations get away with all the shit they did if they didn’t have someone of “legitimate” power in their back pockets?
Head chancellor of the Greysons, which includes both the manor and the academy, was intended to be a solitary position, but when our Helena, our last chancellor and Damiano’s great-aunt, was found dead in her bathtub four years ago, Calvin was asked to step up, and so he did.
He was a decision of circumstance. We know this. He knows this, and we respect him all the same. He’s harsh, brutal when the situation calls for it but fair and honest. Basically, if you fuck up, you earn the outcome, and so on.
The moment Bronx lowers her left heel to the shiny floor with a soft clink, the man himself steps out.