Beautiful Prince (Van der Borne University Book 1) Read online

  "Patrick, dude." Bella's friend, I think Kassidy said her name was Tabitha calls, from over Patrick's shoulder. He flexes his fingers, releasing his grip. I massage my throat, gasping for air. There's no way he didn't leave a handprint.

  They're crazy. Each and every one of them. They just stood there and watched. I swing my gaze over the crowd and meet Logan's dead eyes, carved in a face of ice. He's sneering at me with hatred and disgust. The intensity of his hostility takes my breath away. I've heard what they say about him. He's the king of this school and nothing happens without his say so. That means this was his call. What the hell did I ever do to him?

  "Awe, charity. Are you about to cry?" Bella teases, slipping her arm around his waist.

  So that's what I did. I pissed off his bitch of a girlfriend.

  I grab my book bag from the ground and hurry to my room. I see the way they act in class. The teachers think they walk on water. If I file a complaint, would anyone believe me and if so, would the investigation drag out? I can't risk it. The questions, the interviews. It'll likely be their word against mine. I had enough of being a key witness when step doofus was arrested. Thirteen weeks and I'm out of here. I can steer clear of Logan and his friends until then.

  I try to hide the disappointment in my voice, after Robbie delivers his bad news. This was supposed to be our first weekend visit and he can't make it.

  "You know how important this semester is for me. I can't just stop what I'm doing to come and tour some other campus."

  "I didn't realize wanting to show you around was the same as a tour. I mean, we're supposed to be spending time together. I haven't seen you since July."

  "I know. I didn't mean it that way. I miss you too, Jordanna. But this exhibit is only going to be on display this weekend. If I play this right, I'll get to meet Pierre Suarez and who knows what that can lead to. This could be huge. For the both of us."

  He idolizes Suarez and I feel like an ass for not being more supportive of this. "No. You're right. You have to do this. There will be plenty of other weekends for a visit."

  "And next semester you'll be back here, so this won't even be an issue."

  "I'm looking forward to that."

  "How's the artwork for your submission coming along?" He asks, switching the topic to the project I'm working on. There's a contest at the end of the semester attended by some of the most influential people in the art industry. This is my chance to get my work seen on a wider scale and win a prestigious internship with a successful gallery. It's also my get out of jail free card, so to speak.

  "Good. I've finally nailed down the concept and I'm doing the preliminary sketches now."

  "And what about your classes? Keeping up with prep school statistics?"

  "Very funny. It's advance asshole and bitchiness, and I failed the first pop quiz."

  "You've got this Jordanna. Listen, I need to go, I'll call you."

  "I love you." I say as the dial tone ending the call cuts in.

  I check the time and realize I'm about to be late for Noel's class. I jog across campus to get there on time, hoping someone will skip and I can get a new seat. I'm not in the mood for Logan's antics today.

  I scan the class. No such luck, it's a full house. Geez, am I the only one who doesn't relish the idea of looking at tits all day? The clean canvas on my easel should bring me joy. Instead, it stokes an unease and fear I've never felt before.

  The knot in my shoulder eases when I see the seat Logan's claimed as his own is empty. Here's hoping it stays that way through the duration of class. I give my total focus to the subject in front of me and do my best to follow the instructions Noel's given over the last few weeks. I can't let this be the class that derails my plans.

  "Jordanna." I glance up from my canvas when Noel calls my name. I was so focused on what I was doing, that I didn't notice the rest of the class leaving.

  "Class is over?"

  "I have an appointment so I dismissed early."

  "Oh."

  "Listen, I know you're struggling, but if you need extra help, you can always come by for pointers during office hours."

  I feel like an idiot, but I'm grateful for the offer. "Really? You wouldn't mind"

  "Not at all."

  A tingle of awareness runs down my spine as we part ways. I look around and don't see anyone that's paying me any attention, but I can't shake the feeling that I was being watched.

  Logan's missing from our next class and so are his friends. I'm buoyed by their absence. Truth is I've been on edge since the run-in with Patrick. I'm in line, at the coffee lounge waiting for a double shot of espresso to help get me through the rest of my study session, when the person beside me drops their bag on the floor and in my attempt to sidestep it, I’m pushed by someone else.

  Hot coffee soaks through the top of my shirt. A shriek of pain and surprise tumbles from my lips as I stagger backwards. Strong hands grip my hips, steadying me.

  "Thanks." I half turn, the smile of gratitude dies on my lips when I see Bella is the person who pushed me and it's Logan's hands that caught me. His lips tick up slightly and I catch the fleeting appearance of a dimple.

  Bella snaps a photo and talks into her phone. "You see this shit? She can't even walk and hold coffee at the same time."

  "Maybe if your bag wasn't a safety hazard." I thought getting doused in coffee was an accident, but now I see minion number three is holding an empty cup in her hand. It's more likely she poured it on me.

  Bella's phone is still recording. "Doesn't she look like she's auditioning for the trailer trash t-shirt contest? Only instead of using water, they use mud. It's fitting since you're the equivalent of something I'd scrape off the bottom of my shoe."

  Logan's hands are still on me, his hold tightens, his hard gaze fixated on my chest. I swat his hands away. "You certainly don't act like I'm trash. Tell me, Bella, do you have a girl crush on me?"

  "What?"

  "The way you just have to tease me and pull my ponytail. Do you have a lady boner for me?"

  "I'm not gay, bitch."

  "I hear it's called experimentation and all the sexually frustrated socialites are doing it."

  I shoulder pass them, grab my things from my table, and head back to the dorms. Let's see her upload that.

  Chapter Nine

  While Bella was recording Jordanna, someone was recording Bella. Thus goes the social media circle of life. The clip of her accusing the Queen B of eating pussy has four thousand hits on Prospectus, and Bella's furious because I won't take it down.

  I pay for my coffee and grab a paper koozie off the counter.

  "Logan, we can't let this shit stand."

  "You know the rules. Once content is uploaded to Prospectus, it's up to the original poster to remove it. There's plenty of shit we post that's humiliating to other people. You want me to take those down too?"

  "This is different. She's a nobody."

  "Well, everyone is someone to somebody else. And the answer is still no. There's no benefit to me taking the video down. You're gonna have to deal with it."

  I know why Bella's upset. One, she's the victim of an unflattering post. Two, it raises questions people secretly have about her sexuality. There's not one guy who's ever bragged about fucking Bella. Not that they haven't they're just too afraid to talk about it. But, I'm fairly certain she's no stranger to a little girl on girl action.

  "If the charity case is allowed to run around here unchecked, that sets a dangerous precedent for the rest of the student body. Pretty soon, everyone will think it's okay to talk back and disrespect us and our rule will be in jeopardy. The greatest fete in the history of the school, you overthrowing Noel as a freshman, will go crashing down into ruin when somebody with half a brain and a chip on their shoulder gets enough people behind them to think a kinder, gentler rule is in order. All it would take is for one person to put a bug in their ear."

  By bug she means a hornet, and she's the queen of the shit stirring nest. She struts
back to our booth while scrolling through her phone, muttering about the status quo.

  "Bella, it's one post. Your reaction to it is what people are most interested in."

  "It never should have gotten the attention it did."

  She's reacting emotionally, and that's counterproductive. "The problem is, people are seeing it. What's your solution?"

  She lowers her phone, giving me a self-satisfied smirk. Whatever she was looking at has brightened her mood. A maniacal look darkens her violet-colored eyes. "I'm gonna find a way to destroy that bitch."

  That's Bella's motto. If she can't control you, she'll ruin your life. "Of course you are."

  Three weeks into the semester and even after they had their sick fun in the courtyard, Bella's still not over that stupid incident the first day of class. I'm giving them a wide berth by sitting in one of the back rows, but she makes it a point to single me out. I've been ignoring her snide comments and dirty looks.

  Today she changes up tactics and addresses me straight out. "What are you looking at, narc?"

  Huh? They told me not to say anything, and I haven't. Not because I'm afraid of them, but because I don't want to get involved. A few people snicker, and someone else walking by, trips on a perfectly flat surface. They bump up against me, muttering "snitch", under their breath.

  The girl at my right moves closer, digging her heel in my toe. I yank my foot out, controlling the urge to kick her ankle with my boot. "What the hell is your problem?"

  Bella, who's not even in this class, comes to stand next to me. "We know who you are, and we know what you did. A lot of families lost money when you ratted out dear old dad. Some of those families have kids that go to this school, and would like nothing more than a chance to pay you back for that. Cause you see, we love our endless credit limits, the vacations, and trust funds. What you did, is a threat to that."

  My blood freezes in my veins. I know the embezzlement was bad, but I never considered that some of these people here may have invested with Penn's firm. Lovely, the step-prick keeps fucking with my life.

  "What do you want, Bella?"

  "I want you to recognize your place around here. This school is mine, and you're just an annoying bug I can choose to squash any time I want. One word and it's done. So fucking say it, narc."

  "Say what?"

  "That you know your place."

  The first few days of school, I struggled to understand the vitriol with which everyone greeted me. I'm used to being the weird woman out because of my art but it's as if everyone here decided on day one that they hated me and I didn't know why. Now I do. News of my family drama has reached their ears, and if Bella is to be believed, their bank accounts.

  I keep my eyes on the front of the class, ignoring the rest of Bella's rant. I get it. They don't want the charity case here and they're worried I'm gonna rat Patrick out for selling test answers. Shit, I don't want to be here, but until I win that scholarship back to the art institute, this is the shitty situation we find ourselves in.

  "You'd be wise to remember the dean and the admissions office aren't the ones who decide who stays or goes. We do, and I wouldn't get too comfortable if I were you, because your days here are numbered."

  Her friends giggle and cackle like a pack of rabid hyenas. Mercifully, the professor comes in, interrupting our heart to heart. Bella takes my silence for agreement, flouncing out before the lecture starts. They're beautiful. The whole damn gaggle of them are like breathtaking works of art. It's a perfect disguise. Perfectly coifed. Stylishly made. A beautiful overlay to hide their rotten cores.

  I never thought I'd say it, but I regret signing up for an art class. Life Study is my torture hour on two fronts. I'm failing miserably at bringing the subject to life, and I'm forced to sit next to Logan McKay. I tried to change seats, but no one would switch with me. They're just as afraid to cross him as they are Bella. How the hell do twenty-something's get that much power and instill that much fear in a group of students?

  Logan spends a lot of time looking at my canvas instead of painting on his, and I spend the class hour on edge, wondering when he's going to openly criticize my work again. I know I suck. I feel my failure down deep, and nothing Noel says can convince me that my work will get better.

  Noel's behind me offering more encouragement. His hand on top of mine again, moving it along the lines I've created. He rolls my hand in a circle to fill out the model's nipples. I comply, making that dot my focal point, blocking out everything else. Today's attempt looks like the drawings Summer used to do when she would draw pictures of our family.

  "Good. Keep going." Noel cheers, rubbing my back.

  Logan changes out the charcoal in his hand and grimaces at my progress. "Alumni are gonna be pissed at winter showcase."

  "Something you wanna share with the class, Logan?" Noel asks, with an edge to his voice.

  "Share? No. I couldn't possibly. But I do have a question. When did we start paying faculty to lie to students? Just because charity here is a guest of our esteemed institution, doesn't mean we should promote garbage. Vandi U is here to turn out leaders. Now if her future in art is to teach kindergarten, well, we have a winner."

  The bell rings, and I scramble to pack up my things. I keep my voice low when I counter with, "I realize I haven't gotten you that porn quality you're looking for just yet. But I assumed the autonomous blow up dolls you hang around with are enough to keep you satisfied."

  Logan grabs my arm, slamming me back down in my seat. "Careful, charity. Don't take my silence every other time you've tangled with one of my friends as a sign that I'm safe. You wanna show some teeth with me, you'd better be prepared, because I bite back."

  I snatch my arm away, standing to my feet. "What can you do or say to me that your friends haven't already?"

  He stands, looming over me. His freakishly tall ass makes me feel infinitely smaller. I have to tilt my head way back to hold his gaze. The strain on my neck is intensified, when he grabs my hair in his hand, pulling backward. My stomach flips, my breath ticks up. "Trust me, Jordy, you don't wanna find out.”

  Chapter Ten

  Just when I think the charity case is ready to blend into the background, she turns around and says something else to make her a target. The way those honey-brown eyes flashed like she wished I'd drop dead for daring to tell the truth. Who the hell does she think she's fooling?

  We all know her painting is shit, and Noel's not doing her any favors by pretending otherwise, just because his dick is hard for the scholarship student. When Grace comes back from maternity leave, Jordanna will be behind everyone else. Her rivalry with Bella aside, art needs to be respected, and the artist needs to be pushed to create their masterpiece. Noel's soft handed approach isn't doing that.

  I pull my car into the driveway at the country club. Sunday brunch with my dad and his country club buddies is an annoying obligation I have to meet. I've dropped my attendance down to once a month, using school as an excuse to stay away. A bunch of old guys talking about outdated business methods for taking over a world that no longer belongs to them, is like watching golf instead of playing it. A waste of fucking time.

  I settle into my chair, listening as the old farts tell me it's good to see me and endure their questions about school. Nobody cares about my sculpting, so I break out my usual answers about the communications and photography courses I'm taking. It's a given I'm going into publishing with my dad, and we've come to a compromise. My focus within the company will be on print and digital media.

  I suffer through the first course, listening to them talk about stocks and who's portfolio took a hit that they can exploit. Sheridan Lang is four tables away with her grandmother, mother and sister. Her father Sterling Lang owns a formula one racing team that came in twenty-fifth and twenty-seventh the last two seasons because they've got a cautious driver behind the wheel.

  It's a losing team, and rumor has it Sterling turned down an offer from an anonymous buyer. He says it's because he love
s the team and has faith they'll rally. I think it's because his wife, who holds the purse strings, is secretly fucking the driver who may or may not be Sheridan's father. Just another in a long list of torrid affairs before a socialite settled down for a respectable match, and the daughter doesn't fall far from the tree.

  Sheridan pushes away from the table in her cute little tennis skirt. I excuse myself, catching up to her on the side of the club reserved for the under thirty crowd.

  "Missed a spot." I pass her a napkin to clear the residual powder from her nose.

  She holds out her hand. The charms clank against each other on the bracelet, which holds the crystal vial of coke around her wrist. "Did you want some?"

  "No. Thanks."

  "Then why are you back here? This is the side of the club where people come to get high."

  "You know I get my fix another way."

  "We're not doing that anymore. Daddy has me, dating some big investor."

  Great. Another game of musical children. "Lemme guess. It's the son of some ancient fart and you're supposed to pretend you've never had your pussy split three ways to Sunday."

  Dads are always trying to pass their daughters off as pure and chaste and these idiots believe it. Sheridan would need a vaginoplasty for her hole to ever be tight enough to pass for virginal. She's been in my club rotation for three years.

  "You understand, don't you, Logan?"

  "Sure. Good luck." I step through the back door and spot a hostess I've never seen before. She blushes when she catches me checking out her ass. "Hey there. You look like you could use a break. Lemme buy you a drink."

  I slip my arm around her shoulder and steer her towards one of the empty card rooms.

  Once we're in the back, I spend some time kissing her neck and stroking her pussy, while asking her questions. This is how I get a lot of my information about the club members. When the help tells me something particularly useful, I fuck their brains out. Today, that urge is fleeting. My mind keeps darting back to the courtyard when Patrick had Jordanna pressed against the building with his hand at her throat.