Dirty Little Secrets (Kings of Bolten 1) - Page 9

I gritted my teeth together, my hands shaking.

“Exactly. You’ll do nothing because let’s face it. You have no power. Fall in line, or you can face the consequences of your actions. Or lack thereof. Now call Mikhail.” His gaze flitted over me for a moment before he turned on his heel and departed.

I caught sight of Mom outside the door. She cast me a quick look, her smile tight.

The moment the two of them were down the hall, I slammed the door shut and flopped back onto my bed, anger surging through my body. I hauled in deep, calming breaths as I tried to push away the way David’s touch on my skin felt. How his eyes penetrated past a superficial look. How he spoke to me like he knew he owned me. How he commanded me to call some asshole I despised.

He might be onto something, though. While my mother had become something I didn’t recognize, she was still my mother. Getting her out from beneath David’s thumb had to be one of my priorities.

And maybe he was right. Maybe I did need some friends. Maybe someone here knew something about my real dad. He couldn’t have gambling rumors flying around about him without someone knowing the tea on him in a place like this. Bolten was filled with human waste like David and the Ivanovs. I was sure he’d made just as many enemies at Bolten as he had friends. If the few months I’d been stuck in David’s house with all the rich assholes he kept coming in and out of his parties had taught me anything, it was that they liked their traditions, and Bolten Academy was a place for traditionalists to congregate.

I just had to find one of his enemies.

Three

Bianca

“Shit,” I hissed, shouldering my bag as I rushed down the hallway of the science building the following morning. The map given to me yesterday fluttered from my hands as a student elbowed me in passing.

My book bag banged against the back of my head as I swooped down to snatch the paper before it hit the ground. Without it, not only would I not know where the buildings were, but I wouldn’t know what my classes were either since my schedule was printed on the other side. I jerked my hand away as a polished black shoe came down on it.

“And who do we have here?” a deep, slightly accented voice rumbled, causing goosebumps to pop up along my skin.

If I had to guess, I’d say he was Italian. So much authority resonated with his silky words that I found myself looking up at him from my knees like some hostage.

My breath caught in my chest as I locked gazes with the most vivid green eyes I’d ever seen. He cocked his head at me, his dark hair falling across his forehead.

“I asked your name.” He lifted an eyebrow at me.

Don’t gawk at him. Say something!

“Bianca,” my voice cracked. The heat from my flush had me ducking my head.

“Bianca,” he purred, startling me as he kneeled in front of me, his finger beneath my chin tilting my face up. Being even closer to him made me realize I’d had it wrong. He wasn’t simply handsome. He was outright gorgeous. Everything about him had me reeling—the way his woodsy cologne blanketed me, how flawless his skin was, his long, dark lashes, those full, pouty lips, and that body. His biceps strained against his navy uniform blazer.

“What’s your last name, Bianca?”

I cleared my throat and averted my gaze, not wanting to answer.

He let out a sigh and looked at the name printed in bold on my schedule lying face up on the floor.

“D’Angelou? As in David D’Angelou?”

“What of it?” I demanded, hating already David had a name here. Knowing my stepfather, he probably had more enemies than friends among the legacy students. I looked down and reached for my schedule, eager to get away from his overwhelming presence.

He grasped my face tightly, forcing my attention back to him.

“When I speak to you, you look at me. When I ask a question, you provide an answer. Do you understand, Bianca D’Angelou?” The words fell off his lips like poison.

It was as if night had fallen on an angel. He’d gone from seemingly sweet to downright dark as his gaze hardened into a glare.

“Who the hell do you even think you are?” I snarled back, jerking out of his grasp. Gorgeous or not, I wasn’t going to put up with his shit. I already had enough assholes in my life to contend with.

“I’m your worst nightmare. You need to watch where you’re going and who you’re inconveniencing,” he growled, his lips set in a deep sneer. “Being the daughter of D’Angelou won’t earn you any brownie points with the kings.”

“Didn’t know my getting to class would inconvenience the royalty here.” I reached out and grabbed my schedule from beneath his shoe. The ripping sound as it tore in half had me closing my eyes and sucking in a deep breath. As if my day hadn’t already been shitty, now I only had half a schedule.

Mystery guy reached beneath his shoe and picked up the other half. With his eyes locked on mine, he crumpled it into a tiny ball and pitched it over my head into the surge of students.

Tags: K.G. Reuss Kings of Bolten Erotic
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