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)
Valley nods, and I push the door open, waving a hand to allow her to step in before me.
She squeals, stomping her feet a little, and I can’t help the low laugh that escapes, but before she passes me, she pauses. “I don’t want to walk in front of you.”
My lips curve the slightest bit, and I link my arm with hers, leading us into the building side by side.
Valley’s eyes widen, her lips parting and hiking up high. “This is … wow.”
“It’s only the back.” Bronx appears on our left, her curled hair now a tattered mess at her back. She winks, snagging Valley’s wrist. Who the hell knows how she arrived as quickly as we did. “Come on, girl. Let’s get you out of that penguin suit and into something silky. The Greyson changing room is orgasmic.”
Valley follows after her, eager to slip into something more her flavor, and I grin, heading toward our private quarters to do the same.
“Meet us in The Devine lounge in thirty!” Bronx shouts, the two disappearing around the corner.
The Devine lounge is the golden ticket. It’s much like the Greyson suite, only less than as far as regalness goes, and open to all Greysons, hopefuls we’re testing and those who’ve earned the golden pin alike. It’s something for them to look forward to, to work toward, because, yes, sometimes the only things that matter to spoiled rich kids are shiny things and private parties their peers aren’t privy to or allowed to attend.
To attend Greyson Academy is to join the elite, but to be a true Greyson is to be elite.
My lips curve and I feel lighter on my feet, a familiar zing tickling along my spine. It’s always a good night when one of our girls takes a step forward, and a scheme is put in motion with ease.
Ready to get into something far more formidable, I follow the long hallway around, coming up to the edge of the private entry, but before I reach the double doors of the Greyson suite, the second one to the right captures my attention. The light along the frame is glowing a soft blue, an indicator to all who come across there is someone inside.
There are only two people who can enter that room, outside of myself, of course, and they both share the name curved along the center of the door. My last name.
It’s my family’s personal suite, and it’s occupied.
My father is away on business, so there is only one person it could be, and she’s got a lot of fucking nerve.
Heat explodes behind my rib cage, and I storm forward, my hand flying out to slap over the scanner, but just before it can flatten onto the small lit security square, fingers wrap around my wrist. I see the shadow coming, though, and spin in time to slip beneath their extended arm, swiftly winding behind their back, my hands positioned so my lower left palm is pressed at the tip of their chin, my right against the back of their head.
My eyes narrow on the blond hair before me. “I could have snapped your neck.”
“Better than you storming in there and snapping hers.”
“Is it, though?” I press firmer, and his hands lift into the air in front of him. “If I remember right, we both agreed I should have done exactly that three months and seven days ago.”
“Nice to know you’re no longer obsessing over that day, and in case it needs to be said, you know you can’t kill your sister. That was a conversation to make you feel better.”
Shoving Dom away, I whip around, moving quickly to the main Greyson door, and of course, Dom follows. His arms wrap around me from behind just as the doors open for us.
Clenching my teeth together, I allow him to walk me inside, his hold tightening once we’re out of the hall. The back entrance to the suite faces nothing but a narrow hallway, allowing for an extra hint of anonymity, just in case.
Dom’s left hand slides lower until it’s clasped over my hip, his right coming up to glide down my arm. “Don’t be upset with me.”
“Don’t get in my way.”
“Not my intention.” His lips press into my hair, the warmth of his breath against my skin causing the anger boiling in me to slide farther south. Damiano senses it, and the hand on my hip squeezes.
“Your prospect did good. Calvin said she didn’t make eye contact with a soul all night,” he murmurs.
“She didn’t,” I confirm, the level of eye candy slipping to the forefront of my mind. I tip my head slightly, meeting his brown eyes. “Hell of an attendee list, by the way.”
“The Sandsburn row team was passing through on their way to a conference. They were happy to have a night out.”