by Nora Cobb
“Hey,” he glares. “You’re going in the wrong direction.”
I have no clue what he means as I watch the other kids running up and down the court, playing basketball through the archway. My confused expression is enough to tell him I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.
“The private gym is up the stairs on the left,” he explains, “Use your card to open the door.”
I don’t ask another question as I walk away. Obviously, Bryce has paid for my membership to the private gym. I try not to get weirded out, though maybe I should. When I told Roni that Bryce had paid my club fee, she just shrugged her shoulders. “It’s not a big deal,” she said, “When you’re rich, people give you free things.” She eyed me carefully. “You just have to get used to it, that’s all.”
I don’t think I can. I dash up the steps, two at a time, and find a door with a brass plaque with the scripted word private on it. I swipe my card, and the door handle clicks. Entering slowly, I’m not sure what I’m going to see when I enter. The gym is spacious and filled with free weights, weight machines, treadmills, and stationary bikes with individual screens. It’s like the gym of my dreams, at least to me.
I wait for someone to tell me I don’t belong here and point me to another room with ratty-ass mats, but no one even glances over. I smile to myself, eager to start working out, when my eyes lock on Wyatt’s. His sweaty hair is falling into his eyes as he curls a dumbbell, working that gorgeous muscle that I’d love to squeeze. He winks at me because it is so apparent that I’m checking him out all over. Panting like a puppy in love, I toss my bag on a bench, and he saunters over, picking it up in his huge hands.
“You can’t keep personal items in here,” he smirks, “you have to store them in a locker.”
I shrug, clinging to my cool. “Where are they?”
He has this crooked smile that makes my knees soften like jelly, but I act like he’s no big deal. But he is. I watched every move Wyatt made in the ring last night. Ducking and weaving around the other guy as if Wyatt was dancing a solo to music only he could hear. He got hit a few times, but he shook it off quickly. But there’s proof under his eye in the shape of an oval bruise.
“You want concealer for that?” I ask as we walk toward another door.
He screws up his face. “What, to match my lipstick?”
“Just trying to help,” I pout a little.
He stops short, and I walk straight into him. My body tenses up against his solid form. He looks at me, smiling, and I fucking sigh. I’m such an ass. We enter a locker and head toward the back. Past the wall of lockers is a wide-open bathroom, and a shower is running. I look around and see a bag on a bench with a pair of men’s sneakers sticking out.
“Is this locker room for girls?” I ask.
“It’s unisex,” he replies, “But there are private rooms.”
“Why are you smirking at me?” I ask him.
“Nothing,” he pauses then sits on a bench. “You have your makeup with you?”
I nod and dig through my bag for my concealer. “This is the best for covering up everything.” I unscrew the top off and dip my finger into the cream. “Look up.”
I try not to stare into his deep brown eyes or admire his lashes, which are thicker than mine. My breathing picks up as Wyatt places his hand on my waist.
“To help you hold steady,” he explains. Wyatt watches me closely as I dab concealer gently under his eye. “You have a light touch for a girl that slaps boys into submission.”
I frown, and he pulls me closer, so I’m resting against his amazing body. “You smell good,” he whispers.
I meet his gaze with an expression of disbelief. “I’ve been sweating all day.”
“I can tell,” he replies, “You smell sexy.”
My finger stops, and I’m trapped in his intense gaze. It sounds corny as hell, but I can’t move while he looks at me in that way.
“You kiss nice,” he whispers, “you didn’t learn that in the ring.”
Fuck, I’m panting like a horny virgin lying in her wedding bed. This isn’t good. I barely know Wyatt, but I know the type. Inside, he’s a bad boy that gives no fucks. The ones that don’t lie about what they’re thinking or try to buy passion with money. I wonder what it would be like to hook up with him. The thought makes my thighs squeeze together. His hand travels along the curve of my ass, and my pussy is going crazy, wanting some serious attention from his fingers. It’s been a long time since I’ve been with someone. I rarely meet anyone I’m interested in.
Wyatt leans in and presses his mouth against my chest. He watches my eyes as he opens wide and wraps his lips around my breast. He doesn’t give a shit that my top is in his way. He pulls back slowly, moving along the fabric until he catches my hard nipple between his teeth through the fabric.
I whimper as he pulls me against his firm body. I stand between his open legs, and his bulge presses against my bare legs. I wonder how private this room is as I glance around quickly.
“I’ve wanted you since I saw you fight,” he says.
I wince. “Last night was a joke.”
He shakes his head. “I saw you weeks ago.” His hand toys with the hem of my T-shirt. “You know how to move. Do you know how much that turns a guy on?”
The shower stops, and we break apart when we hear the curtain move. I have a wet spot on my top but spot a hand-dryer on the wall. The force of the air almost sweeps me away. When I turn around, Bryce stands by a locker wrapped in a towel, while Wyatt has my gym bag on his lap. I don’t dare look at Wyatt. I keep my eyes on Bryce above his chin.
“Good.” Bryce rubs his hair with another towel. “We can start training.”
Wyatt narrows his eyes, first on me and then on Bryce. “What do you mean by training, Bryce? She could teach you.”
I’m thrilled to hear him say that and am almost tempted to hug him. But we have to play it cool. Bryce waves his hand in front of his face as if he can smell our lust in the humid air.
“Astrid has joined the investors club, and as a goodwill ambassador of the academy, I have offered to teach her about money.”
Wyatt shakes his head. “What do you know about money other than spending it?”
“I know when someone is robbing me blind,” Bryce replies coldly.
The silence morphs into thick tension as Bryce and Wyatt stare each other down. It’s another weird example of the relationship dynamic in Stonehaven, and I know all about that shit having attended Monarch. A rough school will teach you all about alliances super-fast.
“Is that makeup on your face?” Bryce asks, curling his lips.
“Fuck you, Bryce. You smell like a pampered girl.” Wyatt tosses my gym bag down on the bench, and a second later, I hear the door slam. I realize that Wyatt has left me alone with Bryce, who is only wearing a towel. There’s only one door out of this room, and he isn’t fencing me in again.
“Wait for me outside,” he calls out as I hurry to the door, “we have to talk.”
Chapter 13
Astrid
I wanted that workout desperately, but it’s not going to happen, so I change into my uniform in a downstairs bathroom that locks. Bryce wants to talk money, and that works, but instead of heading for the dining hall, he drives off campus into Rockingham. I hardly go to Rockingham except to run errands. I can’t afford the fancy-ass shops or the posh restaurants. I don’t even know how to pronounce the name of the food they serve. Bryce parks his Porsche in front of a café with tables outside and freaking waiters taking orders. Man, if he had ever worked in a kitchen, he would eat at home.
“This okay?” he asks.
“Perfect,” I smile.
“Stay in the car until I open the door,” he demands as he opens his door.
“Why?” I ask.
He glares at me. “Just do it.”
He hops out of the car and onto the curb as I try to open my door, but it’s locked. I unlock it, and he locks it again—that bastard. I’m about to clim
b out the driver’s side when he opens my door.
“This is not a date,” I tell him under my breath.
“When we are in public,” he hisses, “together, around civilized people who can read above a second-grade level, you will act a certain way.”
I bite my lip hard until it stings. “You know if I was going to pick a Henry Higgins, it would not be you.”
He gives me a confused look, then figures I saw the movie and didn’t read the book. “Poor Wyatt,” he says, “He’ll show you how to drag your knuckles across the ground. And Justin can teach a master class in passive-aggressiveness. And Pierce should’ve gone to military school, where it’s acceptable to poke things with sharp objects. But you, my dear, you better stick with me.”
“Do you have friends?” I ask. Bryce laughs, but I’m serious.
The café is clean inside with subway tile on the walls and old-fashioned circular tables covered with cloths surrounded by comfy chairs. There’s a bar that serves desserts, which are lined up against the glass wall, and the place smells like a loaf of warm buttered bread. The waiter is friendly, welcoming us to the Café Le Monde, and he recites the specials, so we don’t have to read the board.
“They’re paid to do that,” Bryce frowns at me like I’m hopeless.
Fuck you, I mouth, and then I scan my menu. Once we’re situated with an order of seltzer and pumpkin pie for me and espresso and some chocolate pastry thing for him, Bryce leaps into business.
“I’m not trying to trick you, Astrid, into anything or bait you into selling your soul. My interest in you is strictly financial. I see a market and want a part of it. Plus I don’t mind slumming.”
“If you think this is slumming,” I sass, “I know a place where you’d wet yourself.”
Bryce frowns and takes a bite of his pastry. “May I ask what exactly you are hoping to achieve at Stonehaven?”
I hesitate to dive deep into my truth. Bryce knows I’m broke, but that’s all he knows. He doesn’t know why. I take a sip of my seltzer to wet my throat and observe his expression as I answer.
“Having money has always seemed like having good luck to me and not something you can control. At Stonehaven, I’m surrounded by people who don’t view money as a game of chance. I want to be rich enough so I don’t have to worry about it and so I can go do what I want to do.”
Bryce doesn’t respond to what I’ve said. He stares with those eyes that make me feel like I’m wrong for walking through the stone archway and into his world. His expression shifts as he clears his throat, and I realize that I’ve made him momentarily speechless.
“I can help you, Astrid,” he says, “It’s not as hard as you think, but you have to be willing to listen.”
“I am willing,” I reply softly.
Bryce shakes his head. “You question everything. I can tell by the look in your eyes. You may want it, but not bad enough to obey.”
I shift in my seat, hoping he’ll look away first. “Sometimes I don’t trust you.”
He smiles, lifting his cup to his mouth, and watches me as he takes a sip. “No one should trust anyone,” he replies.
“Not even your friends?”
He frowns. “Who says they’re my friends? Class is the only criteria I have for making connections.”
Bryce takes a bite of his pastry, but I can barely choke down my scrumptious pie. He knows things, but is it worth it, setting myself up to do as he says? Can I back out if things get out of hand? Bryce’s eyes are judgmental as he watches the waiter behind the counter stack plates.
He glances over at me and scowls. Every man wants the same thing, and I want some control of this situation. I check the room, and only one other table inside is occupied.
“You want more than a follower.” I brush my leg against his knee under the table. “I told you what I really want, but what do you really want?”
A startled look passes over his face but slips off quickly. Bryce glances at the waiter and then sits closer to me. His hand slips under the tablecloth, and his fingertips touch my bare knee. But instead of a savage pinch, he strokes my skin lightly. I relax my leg, giving him a little more access. But I can’t distract him too much. I need Bryce to keep talking.
“Why would someone like me attract you?” I whisper, “Do you crave things you can’t have?”
I stretch my leg under his smooth touch, and dammit, his fingertips send a thrill through my body that’s unexpected. I suck in air and close my eyes. When I open them, Bryce is staring at me with wide eyes as if he can’t believe he’s having this effect on a girl.
“Aren’t you afraid of being bad in public?” I tease, “Right now, you don’t seem to care.”
I part my legs, and his eyelids lower as his hand caresses my upper thigh. Oh fuck, his strokes are making me vibrate off the seat. I didn’t expect him to move his hand this far up my skirt, not a person who cares what he does in public.
“I dare you,” I whisper.
The tips of his fingers touch my panties, and they’re wet with want. He looks into my eyes as his warm breath moves my hair. His fingers slip under the elastic, and then into me. He watches my expression as I roll my head back along my shoulders. I think I’m going to scream.
“You need anything else?” the waiter calls out from behind the counter.
“We’re good.” Bryce’s voice is raspy as he tries to conceal his need, but beads of sweat are rising from his forehead.
“Take your time.” The waiter goes back to stacking plates.
“Do you like that?” I eye him, fluttering my lashes. “The thrill of getting caught doing something dirty.”
“Take them off.” He growls next to my ear, “You want to learn, then show me you can obey orders. Take them off.”
Smoothly, I push his hand away and wiggle until my panties are by my ankles. I dip down quickly and place them on the table. Bryce snatches them, giving me an evil look as if anyone is paying attention to us in a place that serves fatty carbs and tons of sugar.
He shoves my panties into his pant pocket and tugs down his shirt. I reach for his hand, and he frowns but lets me take it. I place his finger in my mouth and suck on it. My tongue circles in a slow swirl, tasting my juices, as his eyes bug out of his head.
“All clean,” I smile, giving him back his hand. “Aren’t you afraid your daddy’s going to find out on social?”
He looks away sharply. “I don’t care what he finds out. And I don’t plan to work for him after I graduate.”
“You have to work?” I ask as he scowls. “I’m just shocked that anyone in your family works.”
Well, my mouth assassinated the sexy mood. Bryce holds up his hand for the check and throws down a couple of bills. At least he’s a decent tipper.
Bryce opens the car door for me, but instead of closing it, he leans in until our noses are practically touching. “You lack proper decorum and breeding to be seen with me in my crowd.”
He shuts the door, and I watch him march around the car. The bluntness is harsh as I hug my arms to my sides. I never expected Bryce to help me get anywhere unless it also helps him. He’s too rich to give a damn about anyone that’s not him.
“You’re going to be a major project,” he says, getting into the car, “but you can fit in at Stonehaven with my help.”
“And besides.” He turns to me, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. “I like a challenge.”
Chapter 14
Astrid
The hairs on the back of my neck prickle, and when I turn around, Bryce is watching me while he chews on the tip of his pen. That’s supposed to be his sexy look, I guess, and he’s working it with his blond hair falling into his eyes. Ha, I could teach him if I wanted to. But right now, I want to pay attention to Professor Getz. I didn’t opt out of his class in lieu of the Investors Club. Learning about money is my goal now, and Stonehaven is the place for me to learn it.
Professor Getz pauses and stares out at the class. “Mr. Shelton, instead of star
ing at Ms. Bowen’s legs, explain to the class what market equilibrium is.”
A few kids giggle but stop as soon as Bryce starts to answer the question. I listen intently to every word he speaks, slowly turning my head until our gazes meet. I stare at him with my lips parted, and my breathing deepens. He has my full attention now as I’m desperate to know what he knows. He smirks as I now watch him as hard as he’s been watching me. Bryce knows I’m desperate—we both are, but for different things.
Knowledge is his power over me. If he wants to turn me on, he’ll teach me how to be rich like him.
“An adequate answer, Mr. Shelton,” replies Professor Getz. He turns his back on the class and returns to the board, scribbling a diagram that might as well be a drawing from an ancient tomb in a foreign land. I glance over my shoulder again at Bryce. His pink lips are stretched in a smirk. He winks, and then a piece of paper hits the back of my calf.