Broken Princess (Van der Borne University Book 2)

by Dakota Lee

  All students sign a document outlining the school’s ethical code of conduct, and I publicly violated it. I claimed creative license and got a pass, but as my father pointed out, things could have turned out differently.

  This is uncharted territory for me. I didn’t plan for what would happen after the bet was over, because I knew I’d win. So, how am I supposed to feel about Jordanna being on campus again? Happy? Pissed our scheme didn’t work? My eyes flick to the door Bella went through moments ago. I think she has that emotion on lock.

  I played my part perfectly. Betrayed Jordanna in the worst way possible. Publicly humiliated her. She should have been too embarrassed and hurt to come back to school, but according to Bella, she’s here.

  The part of me that could be happy about the news is getting its ass kicked by the overachieving competitive side of my brain. If she’s here, it means I failed, and I’ve never failed at anything in my life.

  I can’t let this girl threaten my success rate. I’d lose all credibility with the student body and jeopardize my standing as king, not to mention obliterate any respect I’ve garnered as a future leader of Kingsley Hollow.

  Okay, Jordanna’s back. Clearly she was stronger than any of us gave her credit for. I’ll just have to knock her down again, and this time when she picks herself up, it’ll be far away from here.

  I spent the last three days at my studio, showering and eating there, so I could think in peace. A small part of me was hoping Bella’s intel was wrong. But now I’ve seen Jordanna with my own eyes.

  It took some digging, but I learned Worthless U was interested in her. Nobody knows how she got on their radar or why they tried to recruit her, but we all agree that her being here is preferable to her transferring to our rival school. That would have been problematic.

  Jordanna doesn’t know where the VDU bodies are buried, but she could point out a few suspects for those assholes at Worthless U to latch on to. Just one casual mention about anything we’ve done at our parties could lead to a scandal. They wouldn’t hesitate to use that to their advantage. For that reason alone, I’m glad she declined their offer.

  Not that I’m sure we’re in the clear. Bella didn’t help things by sending Robbie those pictures. For all we know, he could have made copies to blackmail us with later, or to beat off to. Jordanna looked sexy as hell in them.

  The call I made to my friend at Carryville came up empty. Turns out Robbie cut Simone off as soon as Jordy found out about them. I paid her a lot of money to seduce him, but not enough to pursue him while he was mooning over another woman.

  Jordy looks the same. That was my first thought when she walked into class. But that’s not quite true. It’s her eyes. When she saw me, they didn’t bounce. They didn’t waver. They were dismissive. Indifferent even, as she made her way to her seat.

  It took six weeks to work her out of my system. To bury the memory of her smell, her taste, and the way her body felt sliding against mine. Six weeks to exorcise that feeling called love from my chest. And yet, within thirty-seconds of her walking into the room, it all comes rushing back. She slips her sweater off her shoulders, revealing an ivory lace patterned top that’s so sheer I can see her camisole under it, and I’m not the only one who notices.

  Leopold Griff isn’t even pretending not to stare at her tits. “What do you say, Jordanna?” He asks. “How about after class we meet in my room for lunch?”

  My knuckles whiten as I grip the armrest of my chair. Any girl I mess with is fair game when our hook ups end, but it’s the first goddamn day of classes. I didn’t expect anyone to act this quickly.

  “Depends on the menu.”

  “Tube steak.” His buddies guffaw, snort and high five each other. “I hear you like a nice thick cut of steak.”

  “Why wait for later when you can whip it out and show me what you’re working with right now?” She says.

  I know that’s not the response Leo was expecting to hear. Shit, neither was I. She sounds weird. There’s none of the bite I’d grown used to hearing when she exchanged verbal jabs with people before.

  “Here? Now? With everyone watching?”

  “Everyone’s already seen my ass. I need someone who's not afraid to show theirs. In the literal sense of the word.”

  Leo looks nervously around the room.

  “Well… Come on. I’ll get on my knees right here if it’s big enough.”

  “You’re joking, right?”

  Damn straight she is. She’d better be. Unless I really broke her. Fuck, I wanted to, but not like this. She straightens in her chair, refusing to answer, and his hesitancy to pull his dick out costs him his cheering section.

  I see the tension on her face and the way her hands grip her pencil. Of course she was kidding. She was just trying to shut down the comments before they got worse. It was a well-played move. Unfortunately, it won’t buy her more than a few hours before the next asshole approaches her, and he might whip it out.

  Jordanna took a gamble by dating me, and this is the prize she wins. People are staring, waiting to see if I’m going to react to Leo’s proposition. I wanna smash his face into the table for even thinking he has the right to speak to her, but I pretend to be unbothered by what’s happening around me.

  I have to show them that things are business as usual, and the first way to prove it is by doing the same thing I’d do if Jordanna was any other random chick I was banging. Move on to the next one. It’s the first day of the new semester, and I should have had my dick sucked three times over by now.

  I scan the class for some as yet untapped mouths to make my acquaintance. No time like end of class time for the inaugural sucking to begin. I spot a new friend with glossy pink bubble gum lips. Oh yeah, that will leave an impression. My cock looks good in pink and I’m down for watching her generate enough spit, while she’s swallowing me, to blow bubbles.

  Two

  Jordanna

  It’s the second day of the semester. I wanted to spend my free time reading Professor Barton’s syllabus to prepare for my art class. What I’m actually doing is sitting in the Bursar’s office discussing my tuition balance.

  “As you know, Jordanna, your scholarship amount has increased, despite the way last semester ended.”

  I thought the online account balance was a typo or system error until I got my invoice in the mail last week.

  “Yes, and I’m grateful to the board and scholarship committee for the increase.”

  “Don’t be. We kept our contribution the same as last semester. Your academic performance was solid, but nothing outstanding happened to show you deserved more money. And after the way things went at the auction…”

  My painting sold, so he’s not exactly referencing my work, but the embarrassment I brought upon the school. As if the king asshole didn’t have a hand in that.

  “I don’t understand. My invoice has a zero balance. The tuition, room and board. It all shows paid in full.”

  “Yes, well, an interested party paid the difference and allocated an additional amount for a monthly stipend.” He slides an envelope my way. “We usually keep our donors and their contributions quiet, but this benefactor insisted we pass her information along.”

  “Why?”

  “She’s eccentric, and old-fashioned.” His eyes cloud over. “But I think she requires a thank you for her gift.”

  “I’ll be sure to write her a nice note and send a card.”

  He gives me a reproachful look. “I said old-fashioned. She’d rather receive your regards in person. Her address is in that envelope. When you see her, try to practice restraint and decorum. You’re still a representative of this institution. Am I clear?”

  As mud. Because, aside from having the school’s seal on the top of my transcripts, nothing about the way they’ve treated me says I’m one of them. But he doesn’t want to hear that. He wants a perfect response to go along with the school’s perfectly fake appearance. I’m curious to know more about this woman, so I paste a sm
ile on my face and agree. “Yes, sir.”

  I promised my mother I’d call as soon as my meeting was over. She was worried that this was all a big misunderstanding and that we’d have to pay a large sum of money by the end of the week. I’m glad I can give her some good news. And with the stipend, mom can use the money she was paying for room and board, to pay off last semester’s balance. She picked up two more clients. But Penn’s legal bills keep rolling in, and things are still a little tight.

  I told her not to believe him when he swore he was innocent. All those months of her fighting to get him a lawyer and sticking by him, cost us time and money.

  She picks up on the fourth ring. “Hey, mom. I just left my meeting. It’s all legit. This semester we don’t owe anything and get this… the committee is giving me a living stipend. It’s paid out in monthly installments, but that means I’ll have some walking around money and I can help you with the tuition from last semester.”

  She asks about the fees for my art classes. “All covered. If I need brushes or more canvases, I can get them myself.” Between the stipend and my savings, I have more than enough money. I never told her exactly how much my painting sold for.

  I listen as she tells me how proud she is of me for working my ass off last semester. I don’t deserve such high praise from her. Not on this. But I’m happy that the skid marks left on my ass from Logan and his friends, backing their entire fleet of luxury cars over me, came with a way to make things easier for my mother.

  Growing up, I don’t remember my parents worrying about money. Even after daddy died, we had his life insurance pay-out covering the bills, so it’s been hard watching her worry about if we have enough now.

  I will never forgive the step-disaster for what he did. We were fine until he waltzed onto the scene, pretending he was someone my mother could love and depend on. People always said how amazing he was stepping into our lives and taking us on like we were his kids. Rescuing us. Well screw that, I didn’t need a father, and we didn’t need saving. We weren’t upper class, and sure we didn’t have any extended family close by, but we were comfortable and happy.

  Moving to Kingsley Bluffs, and coming to VDU has got me wondering what my parent’s childhoods were like. I know my mother studied art in Europe, and she’s polished and professional when she needs to be. She would’ve fit right in with the Kingsley Hollow social circles, even before she married the dud.

  My dad was just comfy. He spent his time linking investors with environmentally friendly community projects, preferring jeans and work gloves to slacks or a suit. Mom said he loved feeling the earth between his fingers and underneath his feet, and that’s what made him such a powerful advocate for the organizations he helped.

  I used to sit for hours in the greenhouses he’d help build and I’d draw while he planted and weeded. If he were here now… well, if he were here now, I wouldn’t be attending school at the gates that lead to the ninth circle of hell. Just one more ripple effect from the accident that screwed up our lives.

  “Okay mom, I’ll call you tomorrow,” I say when she mentions she’ll be home late because Summer has a game.

  I check the time on my phone. I won’t have time to eat a full meal, so I grab a boxed lunch on my way to class. It usually has an apple or banana and a sandwich in it. That’s more than enough to hold me over until dinner.

  The air is crisp as if flirting with the idea of snow, but I choose to sit outside while I eat, taking in the students walking to and from their classes. Watching them pass people they know, laughing and gesturing excitedly about being back at school. Holding up their phones, showing off pictures of their Christmas gifts.

  I have no one to brag to about all the gifts I got, or didn’t get, for Christmas. Mom and I agreed to focus on making the holiday special for Summer. We got her new practice sneakers and athletic wear. A new computer, since she’s been using the hand-me-down I got from dad when I started the ninth grade. Her favorite NBA and WNBA player’s jerseys, and a jacket she’s been drooling over since last May. Her winter league travels to Colorado for a tournament every year. This time she’ll have the coat she wants to keep her warm.

  Mom has a charm bracelet she keeps in her jewelry box. She used to get a milestone trinket for it every year. We’ve skipped a few, but this year, I found the perfect one. It looks like a damask print. It was the closest thing I could find to wallpaper to represent her return to interior designing.

  There’s an influx of activity around me as classes dismiss. I lower my head, avoiding the questioning and mocking gazes when people notice me. Everyone who’s seen or heard about my ass on display thinks they can say anything they want to me. It’s the worst kind of notoriety, and I’m hoping the jokes and novelty of seeing me back on campus will wear off soon and they can get on with the business of ignoring me.

  Logan

  I exit the school bookstore, shoving my wallet in my back pocket, and marveling once again at the high price for bound recycled paper in the digital age. When I look up, I see Noel heading my way. I step to the right to let him pass, and he still manages to shoulder me. We have an unspoken agreement to stay out of each other’s way. This is him putting himself directly in my way.

  “What the hell is your problem, Noel?”

  “I thought that’d be obvious by now. My problem is you. Or more specifically, the way you treat women.”

  Fucking unbelievable. He has the nerve to mention my track record with women, when he’s just as likely to fuck em and leave em as I am. “Yeah, well the women seem to like the way I treat them. You should know that better than anyone.”

  It’s a low blow, considering our history and what I did with the last girl he pretended to give a shit about. The corners of my mouth tip up, remembering my time with her. Yeah, she liked how I treated her a lot.

  “Do you even care about the damage you inflict?”

  That’s an easy answer. “No.”

  I don’t. Or I didn’t. Not until this last time, and even now I’m thinking of ways to turn that feeling off because it makes me seem weak. “Now unless you’re in my face because you’ve suddenly decided you swing both ways and want mine to be the first cock you sample, I suggest you move.”

  He steps aside, and I start back down the path.

  “Oh, Logan.”

  I shouldn’t stop, but I do.

  “The closest my mouth will ever get to your dick, is when I’m between Jordanna’s legs, showing her what a real man’s mouth and tongue can do.”

  I turn to face him, a bored expression on my face. “That’s not happening. She’ll never trust the motives of someone on this campus, asking her out again.”

  “You’re right.” He smirks at me, putting my defenses on high alert. “Which is why she needs someone she can rely on. A friendly face. I’ve been that, consistently since the beginning.” He strokes his jaw. “And isn’t that how her relationship evolved with the guy before you? You might’ve been the one to put her in the race, but I’ll be the one helping her over the finish line. Thanks for the warmup, king.”

  He’s watching me too, trying to see if his words get under my skin. They don’t because I know there’s no way in hell Jordy would fall for his shit. A little voice inside my head taunts me. Wouldn’t she?

  I turn, heading towards the cafe, shoving thoughts of Noel and Jordanna out of my head. This is the last night the gang and I have to finalize our plans for the back to school bash. I’m not in a party mood right now, and I wish I could skip it. But it’s important that we present a united front.

  Scrubbing a hand through my hair, I snort. United. That’s a joke. I was the only one in a closed door meeting with Dean Allen, talking about the stunt I pulled. My friends were also missing from the lecture I got from my dad about my reckless behavior.

  Dad doesn’t give a shit about our games until they strike too close to home. Our lawyer said the school or Jordanna could’ve pursued criminal charges, and that I’m lucky the school handled it in-house
. Obviously I screwed up, putting an animated picture of her face on that sculpture. But it would’ve been incomplete without it, and I don’t believe in half-assing my work. In retrospect, maybe I should have selected the one with her blindfolded.

  “Good, you’re here.” Bella says before I can plant my ass in the seat. She knows I wouldn’t miss this meeting. Not if I want to have some peace. Her spies are still trying to follow me. Some days I let them, some days I don’t. I plaster a smile on my face, feigning excitement I don’t feel. “Where else would I be?”

  “I don’t know. In your secret lair, or trying to see what’s up with the charity case.” She looks at Frankie. “Has anyone figured out why they let her come back? Did she threaten to sue the school or something?”

  No one answers, because as near as I can tell, all Jordanna did was register for classes, just like everyone else.

  Tabitha blows on her coffee. “Can we get on with the meeting? I have somewhere I need to be.”

  I doubt that’s the truth, but the path to less drama is to pretend she does, instead of telling Bella to shut the hell up.

  Frankie confirms the bar will deliver the booze and food two hours before the party, and Bella tells us she’s selected some of her favorite games to play. When her eyes slide to me, I give her a confident smirk. “Can’t wait to see what happens.”

  Hal swipes through the Prospectus app, checking people off the guest list, and Tabitha looks bored with the whole thing. Once we agree everything’s in place, Bella opens the floor for new business. No one has anything to add. The meeting dismisses and I hightail it to my studio. I need to smite some metal so I don’t choke out my friends.

  Three

  Jordanna

  I’ve put this meeting off for two weeks, because I wasn’t sure what to say. It was my mother’s prodding that forced me to make the call. So here I am at a house in Kingsley Hollow, waiting to see Mrs. Pepper Dane. Her butler ushered me into the empty living room and left, leaving me to infer that she’d be along shortly.