The blood rose to Katy’s cheeks. “I would rather not attract a guy for the wrong reasons,” she replied, feeling suddenly flustered. She turned away from the older girl and reclaimed her seat around the table.
Michelle’s grin widened. “Oh, I’m all for that, hon. But the way you dress, it’s like you’re actively trying to repel them.” She took another sip from her water, then giggled, placing a hand in front of her mouth to stop it from spurting out.
“You in particular, Katy. I mean, girl, you know I say this with love, but that turtleneck thing the other night, at Jessica’s party…seriously? You’ll never earn your “Mrs.” degree going around dressed like that. If that was the first time I’d met you, I’d say you were a huge prude!”
Ouch. That hurt Katy more than she would like to admit. Her gaze shot to her lap and she bit down hard on her lower lip to keep it still.
Michelle, an overly talkative girl in general (per Katy’s tastes) and the oldest in the house, had a penchant for generously distributing unwanted advice. But she wasn’t the malicious type and didn’t really deserve a snappy response.
Still, it hurt.
Yes, that particular dress Katy had worn to Jessica’s had been a rather poor choice, in hindsight. But old habits die hard. Katy had spent her entire childhood and adolescence wrapped in traditional Lorellian clothing—as was expected of a member of the royal family—and for females, that boiled down to ankle-length dresses with high necklines.
She and Cassie had gone on numerous shopping sprees to try to shake the conditioning since arriving in America, and while Cassie seemed to be embracing normal-people’s fashion fairly well, Katy still found herself subconsciously gravitating toward the most modest pieces. It was a work in progress.
But as for being a “prude”…she swallowed hard at that.
Truth be told, a little voice at the back of her head had accused her of being just that, on more than one occasion, over the past few years. It went back to another long-held tradition of Lorellian royalty: no lovemaking until marriage.
Which was the whole reason Alexei had cheated on her.
“Anyway,” Michelle went on, breezing past the girls as she headed back toward the door, “I wanted to let you know there’s a party on tonight at the Wolf Club. All the girls in this house are invited.” She turned once she reached the frame and winked at them. “I hear there are some real hotties in that house, so probably not one to miss. And if you want some wardrobe advice, just come to my room and I’ll fix you up.”
With that, she padded out of the kitchen, leaving the girls staring after her.
“Oh my God. We’ve got to go, Katy!” Cassie exclaimed after a split second. “Who knows who we’ll meet at the Wolfs’? I’ve heard so much gossip about their parties. It’ll be the perfect distraction!”
Katy’s stomach churned. Meeting a houseful of horny drunk guys really wasn’t what she had planned for the evening. She’d been thinking more pajamas, Netflix, and an hour-long bubble bath.
She looked between Cassie and the door…then shoved a whole cupcake into her mouth.
Chapter 3: David
Harvard would be the death of him.
David rubbed at the swollen lump on his middle finger, formed by too many hours of holding a ballpoint, and looked back down at the spread of books scattered across his desk. It was late, and his brain was starting to feel less like an organ and more like a sack of Jell-O packed between his ears, but he wasn’t nearly prepared enough for his impending exams.
He blew out a slow breath and slouched back over his copy of American Politics Through the Twentieth Century, willing his eyes to cooperate. Just a couple more hours, and he’d allow himself to hit the pillow. Just a couple. More. Hours…
A pair of heavy hands clamped down on his shoulders. He jerked upright, but his chair tipped backwards, slamming him onto the floor with a painful thud. Before he could glimpse his attacker’s face, a second set of hands pulled him upright and came around his head with a blindfold.
“What the—” He brought his hands up to bat it away, but then the hands grabbed his arms, pressed a knee sharply between his shoulder blades, and wrestled his wrists together behind his back. Another heavy grip joined his ankles; he felt the scrape of rope against his flesh there, too.
“Are you ready for your true test of character?” a familiar voice boomed down from above in a tone so stupidly deep David would have laughed were he not so pissed off.
“Get the hell off me, Seb!” David snapped, realizing his housemates were hog-tying him.
He tried to lash out and break away from the rope-tiers, but although he was a large guy, two (or three?) against one was foul play, especially when they had the advantage of surprise.
“Woohoo, we got the Brit!” another familiar voice announced.
David felt the rope tighten into a painful knot around his ankles.
“Not funny, Max,” Seb shot back, finishing the bind around David’s wrists.
“Hey, David knows I didn’t mean it like—”
“Just shut the hell up. We gotta get him outta here.”
“No.” David grunted, writhing like a snake as the guys hoisted him into the air. But their grip held, and they lugged him across the dorm room. He heard his door clicking shut, and then the two boys were out in the hallway, breaking into a jog that jolted him uncomfortably from side to side.
“Guys,” David said through gritted teeth. “I seriously do not have time for this.”
“Everyone who joins the Wolf Club has time for this,” Max snorted.
The ride grew suddenly bumpier as they descended a flight of stairs. Then there was the whine of a door, and chill evening air surrounded him.
His skin prickled with alarm. Where were they going?
Metal doors creaked open, and a moment later, David landed on a hard, metallic surface. Then the doors slammed shut, and he was engulfed by silence.
Or, almost silence. He could hear someone else’s ragged breathing just opposite him, a couple feet away.
“Who’s there?” he asked, trying to shift into a more comfortable, upright position.
“David? Is that you?”
David grimaced as he recognized the slight Iranian accent. They’d gotten Zeke, too.
