“I didn’t apply.” I gnaw on my bottom lip to keep it from shaking.
“I pulled a few strings. Anything for you, my love.”
“Thank you,” I force out. “I didn’t think it was something you’d allow me to do.”
“You’re eighteen now, sweetheart. You’re a woman and you’re going to do great things.”
I nod as if to agree.
But I don’t.
Because leaving to “meet people” and to “do great things” means leaving Della. I don’t like this sudden need to separate us. It feels like the beginning of something far more sinister.
Chapter Four
Sparrow
Dogs on a leash.
That’s what Sully calls us, but fuck, we’re spoiled little bitches.
I prowl through the parking lot at NYU in my brand-new Audi R8 Coupe, like a panther stalking his prey.
The Croft princess.
Seek. Defile. Destroy.
Easy. If simple tasks like fucking around with some chick gets me gifts like my hot as sin new car, then so be it. I’ll be Bryant Morelli’s little bitch. Pride can take a damn backseat. I’m not like Sully. I can grin and bear it because the rewards Bryant often tosses our way are too good to pass up.
We were going to draw straws on how we’d divide and conquer, but Bryant had specific assignments for each of us. I’m to be in a couple of her classes three days a week. Sully, on the other hand, got the boring as hell task to do some job at the Croft home. Scout, naturally, is going to be the snake that slithers into Croft’s world and bites when they least expect it.
Not sure how Bryant finagled us into these positions or what strings he had to pull in order to make it happen, but I’m just fine with my task.
College.
It’s the one thing I really wanted…before. Before Scout got weirdly obsessed with our stepsister, dragged us into his shit, and earned us the beatdown of our lives. Back then, when we were spoiled assholes, I was on the track for success. Our mother was a renowned plastic surgeon to the elite and had hella connections, but I was smart and athletic. I didn’t need for her to buy my way anywhere. I’d planned to do it all on my own.
Now, Bryant is offering Harvard back to us. Again, Harvard is something I wanted to achieve all on my own and resented the fact Bryant wanted to hand it to us on a silver platter. But, when I’d seen the despondent look in Sully’s eyes, I knew we had to do this. He’s been spiraling for a year now, lost without his Harvard dreams. At least, with this job, I can help give it back to him. Even if I have to accept Bryant calling all the shots. And Scout doesn’t give a shit about Harvard, but he does give a shit about us, which means he’ll play along too.
My mood suddenly souring, I pull into a parking spot but don’t shut off my car. It still has the new-car leather smell, which is surprisingly calming. I inhale a deep breath and exhale my irritation. Scout is a dick of epic proportions sometimes, but he’s my brother. It’s not his fault he’s a little fucked in the head. I probably stole all the good shit in the womb. He may have conned me and Sully into terrorizing our stepsister, which ultimately led to her boyfriend handing our asses to us in the worst possible ways, but we did it together. Always. That’s what we do. We’re triplets.
Like now…
We’re in this thing with Bryant Morelli together. We’ll continue to be his “dogs” until he decides to let go of the leash. Or until Scout bites him.
Smirking at that thought, I turn off the vehicle, grab my bag, and climb out. Students are rushing around since it’s nearing eight this morning. I’m not too worried about being late. It’s not like this fake college gig is going to last forever.
Harvard is on the horizon. Mom would be so proud.
Thoughts of Mom have me gritting my teeth. Because of the Constantines, she’s serving some hard time. Malpractice. It’s not her fault ugly people got uglier after their surgery. She was a plastic surgeon, not a fucking miracle worker. Winston Constantine, though, in his bitchy endeavor to ruin our lives, made sure to pull together quite a collection of people who could testify against my mother. His power, influence, and money sealed her fate.
Which is why I’m all too pleased to help fuck up his world again. Even if it’s through less direct means. Stirring up shit for his family in an indirect way will feel like we’re getting some retribution.
As though on cue, my knee twitches in pain. I went a little too hard on the treadmill this morning. I’ll probably deal with the aftereffects of that fated day until I die.
Goddamn Constantines.
Ignoring the ache in my knee, I stride across campus to where my English class is located. Several hot chicks glance my way, coy smiles on their pretty lips. I acknowledge each with a smirk and a chin lift. Maybe I’ll have better luck in finding a piece of ass at college. Tinder is a waste of fucking time.
I’m not here to hook up, though. I’m here to meddle in the Croft girl’s life. Landry is her name. Like what the hell kind of name is Landry?
When I reach the classroom door, I peek in, searching for the girl I’m supposed to be following. Bryant had given me a physical description, but only had an older picture of her when she was like ten or eleven—all big teeth and frizzy blonde hair. Apparently, this chick doesn’t have social media. So, I’m guessing I’m looking for a total nerd, because seriously, who doesn’t have social media these days?
People chatter, the auditorium-style classroom echoing with the dull roar, while they wait for the instructor to begin, but my eyes are scanning the place for my target. Lots of nerds and lots of blonde ones, but I’m not getting spoiled rich girl vibes from any of them.
Until her.
One chick, toward the back, stands out in particular. She sits in a regal way—back ramrod straight, chin lifted, fingers clasped on top of the tabletop. The chick isn’t exactly a nerd, but I wouldn’t say hot either.
Her sleek golden-blonde hair reaches about shoulder length, grazing her delicate collarbone as it curls inward. Nice tits are hidden behind too much clothing for this time of year, much to my annoyance. At least if I have to bother with her, having a nice rack to look at would be a perk. It’s clear she’s wound tight and has a stick jammed so far up her ass, I’ll never have a chance at pulling it out. My cocky smile and great physique are usually enough to get a woman to bend to my will, but something tells me Landry Croft will be different.
Some guy beside her with a lame-ass curly bush sprouting out of the top of his head is chirping things at her that only garner forced, polite smiles from her. He’s clueless. She won’t even look at him. The girl on her other side eyes me with interest and then leans in to whisper to a friend on the other side of her. I attempt to make eye contact with my mark, but she ices me and everyone else around her out, only looking ahead toward the professor’s podium.
I drop my bag on bush boy’s desk with a loud thunk, my laptop inside responsible for the sound. He jolts in surprise and quickly sizes me up. The wince I’m met with tells me he knows he’s no match.
“You’re in my seat, bro.” I casually thrust a thumb behind me. “Move.”
His mouth gapes open. “We don’t have assigned seats—”