She slams her hands onto her hips but doesn’t reply.
The passenger door opens and Wes stumbles out onto the gravel, which definitely adds something to the jet-lagged, post-party thing we’re going for.
“Mr. Hart! What are you doing here?”
“Ah, hello…um,” he looks between the dean and me with complete confusion.
“It’s Dean Crankshawe, she was Associate Dean this time last year,” I tell him, then turn back to Crankshawe. “The twins went a little hard on their gap year. You ever heard of the Full Moon parties on Koh Phangan? The Thai weed gets you twisted. I met up with them in Amsterdam.”
“G-gap year?” she stutters. “But I thought…”
“Your predecessor Dean Dartmouth,” I say, as Max and Donovan join me, “gave the twins a gap year. You remember they’d decided to quit and go to the UK? Luckily, the idiots changed their minds and went traveling instead.”
She moves her gaze from the twins to Max. “What? That’s not possible. Maximus Larsen?”
“In the flesh, baby,” he replies, winking at the dean.
“But, the police have been looking for you. You are registered as a missing person.”
“My bad,” Max grins. “I wasn’t going to let these bastards have all that fun without me.” He gives the dean a salute then he and Donovan hustle Wes through the tower doors. The threeof them, even in strip mall clothing and with unkempt hair still look like Elites who belong here. That’s the nature of status.
I, on the other hand, will not feel like myself until I’m fully groomed once more.
As I leave the Range Rover keys on the seat, Larissa Crankshawe stands watching with crossed arms. “Let me get this straight, Mr. Drakeward," she says, her voice filled with skepticism. "You went to Amsterdam for a diamond... and you justhappenedto bump into three students who have been 'traveling' for a year? In the same city? On the same day?"
"That would really make it a small world, wouldn’t it?" I reply, keeping my face bored. "No, they knew I’d be in Europe, so they met me there. They were looking for a ride home. I had the jet and felt charitable."
I see her eyeing my less than immaculate appearance. Can’t blame her for that. “Customs was a nightmare. They tore my luggage apart. Hence the... disarray."
"If you knew they were on a gap year, why did you let us file a missing persons report for Larsen?” she demands.
"Not my job to manage your administration, Dean. I’d assumed they filed the paperwork. Clearly, they are idiots.”
She splutters some more, and I increase my bored expression. “I don’t know why any of them think they can all just walk back into Validus Vale like this. None of those boys are students anymore.”
I raise an eyebrow, confident in Striker’s work. "I suggest you check the digital archives again, Dean. I believe you’ll find the paperwork was misfiled under 'withdrawal' rather than 'sabbatical.' My PI cleared it up this morning. Anyway, Max can stay in our apartment until something else is sorted.”
“Absolutely not. There is a process to follow, starting with a mandatory drug test by the sounds of it.”
Thinking quickly, I tilt my head in a slight incline. "Already handled, Dean. I had my private physician run full toxicology and bloodwork screenings the moment they stepped on the jet. I’m not bringing contraband or diseases onto my aircraft. You’ll have the clean results on your desk by morning."
Striker is going to be earning her hourly rate tonight.
The dean is opening her mouth, like she has more to say, but I ignore her and follow the guys inside.
There’s only one student in the lobby: a freshman Elite, François de Vaux.
I don’t know why I’m wary of him; something about the sardonic expression, pitch black eyes and air of unending confidence pisses me off. “Bonne soirée,” François says, looking all of us over from head to toe.
We ignore him, so he repeats himself in English. “Good evening, gentlemen. I hear you’ve all been, er, globe-trotting.”
I freeze.
Donovan opens his mouth to reply but I give him a sharp jab in the ribs.
How does a freshman know that? We’ve been on campus for five minutes. We onlyjusttold the Dean the cover story.
“None of your concern, de Vaux,” I snap, hitting the elevator button repeatedly.
