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)
So, basically, if I want to hold on to my new naughty friend for a while, all I have to do is keep him away from my dad.
It shouldn’t be too hard.
Right?
Chapter 13
Rocklin
The prospects are abuzz, the result of Valley’s scheme having posted early on the town’s social media sites, and the need for a celebration works perfectly in our favor.
The girls want to meet Bastian, as is their right, since he took it upon himself to slip into the space that belongs to them as well. Besides, they’re my girls. They should know who to blame if blame needs a name.
Tonight, we’re partying in The Devine Lounge.
The space is larger than our Greyson Suite to allow room for all of us. There’s shiny shit everywhere and reflective glass makes up ninety percent of the room, representing a strong and solid front—cracks are for the weak, and those who create them are thrown out.
Valley passed her first test, as well as her second, though she doesn’t know it yet.
Everyone we’ve ever allowed within these four walls knows the mark of a Greyson when they hear one, but nobody knows who carries out what task. It’s a way to track loyalty outside of the unspoken threat against their families should they dare to breathe a word, of course.
Most are smarter than that, and the rare few who crave approval from their parents, running to them for what they hope will be their first pat on the back of their lifetime, learn the hard way doing so will earn them the opposite.
The parents know the drill and would hit them with a litany of disgrace they’d feel through the phone.
Once accepted, all parents who send their children here are after something. That’s literally the point to them living under the same roof and attending the same school as other high-profile attendees. No one leaves here without something. If you aren’t brought into the fold of one of our worlds, if not the Greyson Society directly, you still leave with a golden stamp of acceptance. Being invited to Greyson Elite is an honor in itself. Graduating from it is an open invitation to hold your nose as high in the air as you wish.
Not to mention the connections gained along the way, and some come solely for this reason.
Some are invited solely for this reason.
You never know when you need a friend somewhere.
Where the fuck is my friend?
Glancing at my phone, I pull up the security app, searching every crevice of the Greyson Suite, but he’s not in there, waiting like I assumed he would be.
Delta’s soft, floral-scented perfume wafts over my shoulder. Her whisper-soft, drunken voice sounds like a true, good girl having her first glass of wine. “Maybe he’s waiting in the hall somewhere with another blindfold, anticipating whisking you away?”
“You mean like your boys over there?”
Both of us look up and to the right, where Alto and Ander sit, one on the seat of a white, tufted chair, the other on the arm of it, glasses half-full, gazes locked on their reason for breathing.
Delta sighs, leaning down even more until her forearms are folded over the back of the chaise I’m lounging in. “They do look a little deprived, don’t they?”
The grin in her voice has mine stretching, and I drop my head back to meet her gaze.
She winks, pressing a small kiss to my lips, and the laughter that leaves her is silent when two glasses can be heard slamming onto the tabletop, even through the soft music.
“Go away before the Grecos get a show they’re supposed to be on a time-out from.”
She giggles, then sighs, a big, fat, fake sigh. “Fine. We’ll take the DeLeon Suite, just in case lover boy shows.”
“He’s not showing.” Bronx falls next to me, her little sparkly dress riding up her thigh. “Maybe he’s not as obsessed with you as you think?” she teases, sipping on some bright drink. She has no flavor of choice.
Bronx loves everything and nothing at the same time. She’s picky like that.
Stealing her glass from her fingertips, she pouts as I toss it back, refusing to make a face when fire spreads inside my throat.
I move to the large glass window, smiling as I pass a couple girls dancing and drinking in the center of the room, the large circular couches framing them. With a wide-open floor plan, and tall, bistro-style tables all around, the space allows for privacy without offering too much.
While there is a small open bar in the back corner anyone allowed in this room can use, there are also two members on staff at all times, who are paid well to tend to everyone’s needs, even before they’re asked. This is why, when I look back, Bronx already has a brand-new glass in her hand. She lifts it as she stands and saunters over to join in on whatever conversation Marcus and Gabriel, two third-years who joined the Greysons a little over a year ago, are having.