I don’t often ask anything from my parents. The last time I said please was when I asked to take that time off to backpack around the world after high school. They agreed because my shrink came up with the suggestion in the first place. My ADHD was a bit out of control, and while I’d always been able to coax my hyperfocus in order to score well at school, I was seriously depressed, chronically bored of everything and everyone around me.
I was supposed to defer enrollment in college six months; it ended up being two years, but I’m a lot happier for it. Besides, my psychologist was right: the attention deficit did improve with age.
Most of my old friends are seniors while I’m a freshman, but I can’t say I care.
My parents have another one of those silent conversations I’ve witnessed a million times, and both nod.
“All right, we’ll present the request to the board,” Dad says. “But minor motions of the sort need to be approved by two members—if there’s no vocal disagreement. Get someone else on your side.”
I smiled. “Way ahead of you.”
I stay for a chat, and eat by the pool with Selena, before returning to my classes. At six, I drive right past the Shark House and make my way down the private drive to the second to last house: the wyvern’s.
This early in the evening, there are only two servers awaiting in the entryway, one guy and one chick, naked except for the red harness, nipple clamps, and gag in their mouths. The chick wordlessly lifts a tray, the movement pulling on the chains around her wrist that are attached to her clit.
I shake my head. “No thank you, sweetheart. I’m here to see Goltz, if he’s in?”
She nods and tilts her head toward the stairs, so I climb them two by two until I get to my friend’s floor—the penthouse.
Finding the wooden door closed, I knock and wait politely—because I value my life.
It takes a long time for an answer, but I know the wyvern thrall would never have indicated his room if Markus wasn’t in.
“Come in.”
I open the door and let myself into the foyer of beautiful suite. It used to be dark and moody like the rest of the Wyvern Den, but since moving in, Markus had it completely redone.
The walls are the most perfect shade of off-white. I’ll never understand what makes one white better than another, but this one is fucking perfect, with gold brushing along the panels. The furnishings are dark green, just like downstairs, but with the light, the effect’s completely different, complemented by a round marble and gold coffee table. My mother should take notes.
“The plants are new.” I gesture to the huge plotted plants against the wall.
Markus nods from behind the bar, saying, “Dez.”
He leaves the explanation at that, and there’s nothing more to say. If Dez wants plants, he’ll get her plants.
“I like them.”
The youngest of the Goltz brothers walks to me and hand me a beer. “What can I do you for, Cross?”
He was never one for small talk but I like how direct he is. We’ve known each other most of our lives. I’m his brother Marius’s age, but I always gravitated towards Markus, who’s far more direct.
Plus, we both hate the fuck out of his haughty eldest brother Magnus.
“There’s this girl,” I tell him. “She’s pretty?—”
“I’ll stop you right there. Not interested. Daisy’s naked in my room and every second you spend here prevents me from lickingwhipped cream off her cunt.” By his tone, he might as well be telling me about the weather. “Tell me what you want and how I stand to benefit.”
See? Direct. Marius would have made me recite a bloody poem and swear my undying adoration, and Magnus would have demanded I get to my knees and lick his boots—or his cock.
“I need your father to approve the reinstating of a scholarship. Lily Trueman. She scored forty-seventh.”
Markus downs half of his drink in three gulps. “Done.”
“Just like that?”
He shrugs. “In a hurry, and it’s a small favor. One I know you’ll repay.”
He doesn’t need to make it sound like a threat, but one is implied in everything he’s ever said. I nod. The simple truth is, even if I didn’t owe him, I’d never refuse a favor for him. I value my life and limbs.
