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

  "There's a room full of people that would be happy to help Bella. Take your pick."

  "What about you?" She flashes a smile at me. Part sweet, part sincere, all parts lie. This isn't a benign inquiry. It never is.

  Hal passes me the bourbon bottle. "You already know my answer. Find something that's a challenge and I'll consider it."

  "You say that every time and then turn around and complain that what we've come up with isn't challenging enough."

  "That's because it isn't. Convince the TA to change a grade. Flirt with the provost’s wife in front of him. Walk the halls naked. Guys. This is high school shit and we're not in high school anymore."

  "Well, what would get you interested?"

  "Something that would have a lifelong impact on everyone involved. Something where the ripple affect would be felt generations from now. You want me to play, it has to be a real game changer."

  I take a gulp of the bourbon, letting the burn slide down my throat and settle in my chest before speaking again. I pass the bottle of to the next person. "The future of my company would be at stake. I'd like to at least feel like there's a chance I could lose."

  Bella hands me her phone. "How's this for motivation?"

  I read the article about Jordanna Felding, the future Pulitzer prize winning high school journalist. Who's an award-winning painter and photographer. She's listed as the one to watch in print and digital media and earns a gold seal of approval for integrity from the frigid housewives of America.

  I read aloud. "Courage amidst a difficult situation. Following the evidence which ultimately revealed embezzlement at the investment firm her stepfather owned. He's currently incarcerated, awaiting trial."

  My eyes, linger on that part of the article more than anything else that is written. Penn Waldorf. Dad’s got a folder in his filing cabinet with his name on it. I give the phone back. "We already know she's a narc."

  "Did you read the entire article? It also says she's sweet and kind and so innocent. Untouched and unmatched in virtue."

  "So, she's waiting for prince charming to pop her cherry. Good for her."

  Bella flashes the smile that prefaces every bet she's ever made. "How much work do you think it would be to take a reputation like that and flip it on its head for everyone to see?"

  I feel a small flicker of curiosity to hear what she's thinking. It's the reporter in me, always looking for the story. "What are you proposing Bella?"

  "I bet the VP position that you can't make her fall in love with you."

  The flicker snuffs out before the wick can catch fire. "Too easy. She'd be saying I love you after a few dates."

  "I'm not done. You have to make her believe that you love her and want to help restore her family's name. You convince her to trust you and then eradicate that sweet, wholesome gooey goodness. When you pull the pin, and tell her how much she actually disgusts you, it will definitely get rid of that chip on her shoulder."

  My dad’s mission in life is to make money and to make sure no opponent real or imagined, is left standing. If Jordanna's got her eyes on journalism, and photography, we could be competing for the same internships. I haven't checked her rank on Prospectus, because, well I don't give a shit. But now, that there might be a small threat, I'm mildly irritated.

  The connections we make in this school are invaluable and can change the trajectory of someone's life. I don't need the publicity, because either way my name is synonymous with media and publishing. But, with Jordanna's family history, she'd be seen as untrustworthy and an embarrassment to VDU, which could tank our school’s national ranking. We can buy our way into anything, but some credentials are more valid when they're authentic and earned organically.

  "The article says she's a virgin, Bella. What the hell am I supposed to do with that?"

  "Deflower the sanctimonious tart, of course."

  Like I said. A bet that's not worth the time or consideration I'm giving it. "You want someone to seduce her into losing her virginity? She's not bad to look at, and pussy is pussy. Anyone would take this bet."

  "If I give this to anyone else, they might actually fall for her self-righteous act and ruin everything. You saw what happened with Frankie over the summer. No, this has to be done correctly. I know there's no risk of your heart getting involved, because you don't have one."

  And that's the double-sided coin they flip. I can detach because I don't care, but I care enough to want power and prestige for years to come. I care about the legacy I leave behind at this school. "Convincing her to give up her cherry hardly seems worthy of the VP position at McKay Media."

  "No, but we both know you don't do vanilla. If you can make her follow you to those deep dark places that exist inside you and get it on tape. Then, we'll have all the leverage we need to prove she's not as virtuous as these wannabe journalists are saying. Think about the traction your father's paper will get with a story like this. Think of the irony. Her story about doing the right thing no matter the consequences went national. Yours about her being a hypocrite will have twice the reach. She'll be ruined, and not even the boyfriend from back home will want anything to do with her."

  I read that part too. Boyfriend of eighteen months, content to wait. Does he even like pussy? "What do I get when I win?"

  "If you win, I'll finally give you the only thing in this world you've ever really wanted."

  Bella is the only person who has what anyone would call leverage against me. It's a small thing. Inconsequential to most. But that's what makes it so utterly appealing. One of the first commercially made cameras. A Giroux Daguerretoype.

  It came up on auction a few years ago, and I'd been working to get it to switch hands since my sophomore year of high school. I was finally in a position to acquire it, two years ago, and somehow Bella got to it first.

  It's what she does. It's how she controls. I watch as the topic of our conversation strolls across the football field like she doesn't have a care in the world. She smiles, offering pleasantries to everyone she passes. Pathetic how nice she is. We don't have much use for nice around here. Nice means sweet and strongly bound to ethics. Nice means friendly with the faculty.

  Most of the administrative staff and teachers turn a blind eye to us, but there are a few that like to stick to their ethics. And Jordanna's on record as being a narc. If she's ratting out her own parents, there's no ways she won't cave when questioned about the shit we're into.

  We try to keep our exploits away from campus or over at The Rift, but sometimes Kassidy lets me use her room for a little of this or that. I'd hate to have to break in a new spot.

  Nice is the way Jordanna's ass is shaking when she walks. Tempting guys to stare even though her face says no fucking way. Yeah, it's been a minute since I've had to work for some pussy and it's fun to push people's limits. I could come up with some creative ways to find hers. This could be just the distraction I need. Bella's studying me, trying to gauge my reaction. I know better than to agree right away.

  "I'll think about it."

  Tabitha flicks the top of her pen. The repetitive clicking in contrast to the soft tap of my fingers on my keyboard. I click through the tabs on my computer, jotting down notes.

  "This little research project of yours is cutting into dinner."

  I hold up a finger as I pull up a new tab. "Just a few more minutes."

  "You said that two ‘few more minutes ago’." She comes closer. "What are you looking for anyway?"

  I close my screen and turn in my chair, but not before she gets a look. "Ah, so you have the same questions I do."

  My face is impassive, showing no reaction to her accusation. "Which are?"

  "Well, I'm used to Bella deciding to target someone. But, I've been wondering why she was so adamant about this bet. With this girl. I mean, she hates Jordanna, and it can't be as simple as the scholarship student not giving up her seat on the first day of school."

  "Okay. That's your question. What did you come up with?"

 
She chews on the side of her thumb. "The questions lead to more questions."

  Tabitha likes to watch and observe and she’s usually pretty good about putting clues together. If she's stumped, and I'm stumped, maybe we're looking at it from the wrong angle. Perhaps the answer doesn't lie with Bella. I jot down more notes.

  I'm relying on information she provided about Jordanna, and again, because she was no threat or interest to me, I didn't do a deep dive on my own about Bella's target. I've spent the last few hours rectifying that and haven't found anything interesting to note.

  Tabby's watching, and I say what she's thinking. "I know. Bella's going to want an answer in the next few days or she'll pass it off to someone else."

  "You don't care?"

  "No, I don't. It's a sucker bet and I've got better things to do with my time." I stand, grabbing my keys from my desk drawer. "Let's go, Nancy Drew. Dinner's on me."

  Chapter Fifteen

  I can sense something is off the moment I reach my dorm room. The front door is unlocked but Kassidy isn't home. When I reach the couch, the smell of turpentine assaults my nose. Please tell me I didn't leave the cap off and knock it over. I'm pretty sure I can get expelled for a fire hazard. I unlock my bedroom door, greeted by an empty easel.

  Oh god! No. Please, no! I rush into our shared bathroom and find my canvas soaking in a tub of paint thinner. The portrait I've been working on for my contest submission is ruined. Tears burn my eyes, dripping onto the canvas, mixing with the muddy swirls of color. It's too late to save it, and I can't afford to miss my World Finance lecture.

  I let the drain out of the tub, wash my hands and crack some windows to air out the room, before grabbing the book I came back for and dragging myself down the steps. I hate this place, and now I have to start from scratch on the one thing that was going to help me get out of here.

  I started drafting the concept for that painting over the summer. It took me months to get as far as I was. The deadline for our next segmented submission is a week from now. How the hell am I going to pull it together by then?

  I pass Bella and her bitch squad on the way to the humanities building. She doesn't even try to hide the can of acetone and paint thinner at her feet. Fuck being late, she needs to pay for what she's done. I rush towards her, seeing red, intent on ripping her hair out. A long, tall shadow steps in my path.

  Logan. How gallant, protecting his girlfriend from a beat down. "You coming over here to take me up on my offer, Jordy? If not. Keep walking."

  "My name's Jordanna.” I snap, “Now move the hell out of my way, Logan."

  "I could do that. Jordy. But it'll cost you."

  "I'm not paying you money to walk on free grass."

  "Good, because the fee isn't paper currency. If you want to get around me to Bella, me and my boys each need a turn with your lips around our cocks."

  My stomach knots, bile rising in my throat. They wouldn't do that, right? Like really expect the same woman to give each of them oral sex. I think back to the last party. Yeah, they would. "That's disgusting."

  "So you keep saying. Either way, it's a toll tax. You want to step onto our side of the quad, you'll need to pay it."

  He's twining his hands around my hair, one on each side as if pulling on a horse's reins. "Although I hear you've never seen a cock up close and personal, so, I think we can bend the rules this time and just use mine for your inaugural suck."

  No one, and I mean no one, has ever been so crass as to say those things directly to my face. Sure, I've heard them yelled out of car windows, but those idiots just like to get a reaction from their friends. Logan's eyes zero in on my mouth. Based on what I've seen and heard him doing with women around campus, he's serious about me going down on him.

  "Don't you have enough spit caked onto your dick?" I grind through my clenched teeth. "It's a wonder you can even piss from the clogged hole."

  "There's no need to be jealous, Jordy." He tugs my hair again. "There's always room for more."

  His friends whistle and cosign. "Can we watch?" One of them asks. "I've never seen a virgin give head before."

  "Fuck, yeah." The one named Hal unhooks the button on his jeans as if preparing for me to sink to my knees.

  I'm feeling heated for a reason other than wanting to murder Bella. I'm not ashamed of my virginity. I gave plenty of interviews in high school and my freshman year in college about why I was waiting, but the jerks are using it as a punch line to demean me.

  "Let go." I reach up, swatting Logan's hand away. He unfists my hair, only to grab my face and press his thumbs in the hinges of my jaw.

  "You gonna open wide so I can stuff your mouth with my cock?"

  "Hell, no!"

  "Then no Bella for you. I suggest you be on your way." He loosens his grip and pushes me forward. His evil laugh follows me, then calls out, "If you change your mind Jordy, you know where to find me."

  I know Jordanna wanted to confront Bella about her painting. I was on a call with my dad, when I got the alert on Prospectus that there was something happening at the dorms, and I got there too late to stop Bella from destroying it. I respect art and she took things a little too far.

  Another alert chimes on my phone while I'm sitting down with my coffee. It's an internal memo from the chancellor's office. "Shit."

  "What's wrong?"

  I show Hal the message. The submission deadline for the next round of judging has been postponed, and the faculty has launched an investigation into the vandalism of the art studio where some of the heavier or biggest contest paintings and sculptures are kept. It seems in the gang's attempt to find Jordanna's canvas they trashed the studio and a few other non-related paintings. Fucking idiots.

  I wave my phone at Bella. "Do you see the shit storm you created?"

  "So what if a couple of paintings got trashed. They can paint dots all over again."

  "Some of the items were already commissioned, others were for the contest, and still others weren't even student works. They were loaners, for an upcoming exhibit. But you indiscriminately trashed shit, putting us in the line of fire."

  The part about the loaner paintings is the only thing she reacts to. Her grandparents donate from the family collection each year. She knows how expensive those paintings are.

  "Relax Logan, nobody's gonna suspect us, and if they do, they won't say anything."

  "It's too fucking late, Bella. All the applicants are already being asked if their submission was vandalized. I have to go see Dean Allen tomorrow."

  "Why you weren't even… shit. Charity case squealed."

  "Most likely. Yeah."

  She grabs her purse, preparing to leave. "I'll have to teach her a lesson."

  Her methods are what got us in this mess. I stand to my feet, handing my coffee to Tabby. "Don't bother. I'll handle it." I nod my heads to the boys and we go off to undo the damage Bella's done.

  We corner Jordanna after her World Finance class. Hal snatches her by the hair, pulling her into the empty lecture hall, while Frankie locks the door, before coming over to where we're standing. I've got my forearm against her throat, holding her in place. This is how Patrick should have done it. "Charity-Narc, I have a meeting with the Dean tomorrow about vandalism. You've been running your mouth, I see."

  "You destroyed my painting. What else was I supposed to say when asked why I wasn't ready to meet the second round deadlines on something the judging committee has already been tracking?"

  Hal suggests, "Maybe tell them you didn't have a design."

  "It's a real time canvas, idiot. I've been uploading pictures and videos of my process." She shifts her head to face me. "You know that."

  The wrath of the goddess of war blazes from her eyes. "I bet you told them to do it, because on this, I was your competition. It'll serve you right, it they reject your submission and kick you off the paper, too."

  Now she's threatening my art and my editor status. I signal for Hal and Frankie to each grab one of Jordanna's hands, holdin
g them above her head.

  "Get off!" She says, struggling against their hold. I trail my hand along her breast, squeezing her nipple through her blouse. The yelp she emits, is shock mixed with pain.

  "Don’t touch me, you asshole." Her bark is about as menacing as a diamond collared Chihuahua.

  "You wanna bend me over a barrel, Jordy? Fine. But how about I go first?"

  I lean closer, tugging the lobe of her ear with my teeth. I force myself to focus on talking, ignoring the smell of her shampoo and the scent of her perfume. The way they mix with the lingering scent of paint and acetone as a base note. She smells like art, and my fingers itch to put the feelings those swirling scents dredge up on canvas.

  I slip my hand under her shirt, grabbing her waist. "Get off of me, or I'll scream."

  "Is that a promise?"

  My body reacts to her struggling. "Remember what I told you about fighting me, Jordy? Do you want to revisit my offer to let you suck me off with people watching?"

  She finally stops moving. "Good girl. Now the damage to your painting is already done, but I know you haven't given any names to the campus police yet, and we're gonna keep it that way. Understood?"

  "The dean already knows what happened."

  "He knows about the vandalism. The fallout from that will die off as soon as all the students agree to the extended deadline to submit the next round of pictures, and no more art gets destroyed. I need your promise, Jordy. No names." I've wedged my knee between her jean-clad legs. Putting me closer to her scent. The heat of her body seeps into mine.

  My hand has crawled higher. "What are you doing?" The shock and fear changes the pitch in her voice. Her breath quickens as she fights the urge to shy away from my touch. "I need your agreement Jordy."

  “You’re kidding, right? I know what you're posting about me and you've already destroyed my painting. Your girlfriend has made it her mission in life to make my life hell. Why would I promise you anything?"