“Feeling suicidal, are we?” Jack, the head of my security—a freckled man with a weathered face—grumbles, blocking my way.
“No, just rebellious.” I flash him a smile. “Brace yourself, big man, we’re doing this.”
He gives me a hard stare for a long moment before letting out a long exhale and opening the Bentley’s rear door for me.
I don’t blame him. He’s just doing his job. But one month in London after the accident, surrounded by overbearing guards and staff, is all theEtheridgelifestyle I could stand. I’m not some politician’s daughter raised with the veil, nor have I been in this life long enough to desensitize myself. If I’m going to survive this, I need to be able to breathe.A little.
“You have your panic button?” Jack starts with his usual checks as I settle in.
“I do.” I tap the band of my skirt where I cut a hole to tuck it in.
“And your phone’s charged?”
I make a face and set my phone on the wireless charger next to my seat.
“Happy now?” I shrug.
“Far from it. I would rather you were going anywhere but the Grant club, but I guess I don’t have a choice,ma’am,” he adds sarcastically, then mutters something aggressively Scottish and slams the door like it insulted his mother.
Wait, did he say Grant club?
Well, I didn’t know that!
If anyone is a threat to me at Fort George, it’s the infamous Mason Grant.
All Fort men look like sentinels of menace, but he is definitely the scariest. More importantly, he is heir to Fort’s most powerful crime family, who have a vendetta against mine. I have only seen him once, thundering into campus on his Ducati. But that was already once too many. I have heard enough about him not to want to see him again.
I chew on my lip, half-considering cowering back to the flat, as Jack speaks to the three guards in the BMW SUV behind us.
But just because the club belongs to the Grants, doesn’t meanhe’llbe there. Most of Fort is owned by Grants or Berkeleys or Pikes. The three prominent families in Fort. Besides, non-exclusive clubs don't seem to be his scene.
I grab my phone, my fingers typing fast, as Jack starts to walk back to the Bentley.
Hey, I’m coming.
Thea
Awesome. The spare keys are next to the kettle.
Let it go already. I lost them one time.
Thea
In three days.
Is it busy?
Thea
Yeah, it’s packed. No one will know you’re here. Now get here quick. I need someone to stop me before I strangle Penny. She is out of control.
I type and retype several texts when Thea, who should be a certified mind reader, sends another text.
Thea
Not him.
Phew!
