“Maybe he plays lacrosse,” Poppy offers. We all turn to stare at her. Sweet girl. As though there are a lot of inner-city lacrosse teams. She returns our stare with a blank look. “What? A lot of good players graduated last year.”
“I have a feeling he’s more into one-on-one sports,” Ava says, adding, “At least, I hope he is.”
“Why don’t you ask him?” I slump farther down into my chair.
She turns sparkling eyes on me. “I will.”
“Adair.”
I look up to find Cyrus lording over me. His eyes zero in on my neckline and I realize he’s staring down my top. Pushing up and out of his line of sight, I swivel around to him. “Could you be…” My rebuke dies on my lips when I see he brought Sterling over.
“I wanted to introduce you all to my roommate and Adair’s savior the other night.” He glances between us expectantly.
This is the part where I play the grateful girl and welcome him, thank him for coming, fawn over his chivalry. I don’t move.
“I shouldn’t have come,” Sterling mutters, showing a shocking amount of insight.
He shouldn’t have come. I wish none of them had, but him more than the rest. He doesn’t belong here. Not today. I hate him for coming. I hate him for confusing me. I hate him for hating me.
I hate how he makes me feel. I hate that I like it.
“Nonsense. I promised to show you the town. Introduce you to the Court,” Cyrus says dismissively, and I wonder if Sterling counts himself as one of us. If he thinks he belongs to the silly clique of rich kids sticking together more out of habit than affection.
“Are we still going by that?” Poppy asks.
We’re not the Court anymore. How can they think that? We’re not the kids who stole from their parents’ bar carts and drank away the weekend in each other’s pool-houses. Everything is changing in ways that have nothing to do with starting college next week or who lives in the dorms and who prefers morning maid service at the family estate. Can’t they feel it?
“We could divide up by those stuck in the dorms and those still living in the lap of luxury,” Money suggests, malice glinting in his eyes.
“Some of us wanted our freedom,” Ava reminds her brother, but her next sentiment is aimed at Sterling. “Freedom means getting to do whoever you want.”
“It means you aren’t wanted around,” Money says drolly. “You could be the unwanted. What do you think, Poppy? Does that suit you better?”
Poppy tenses. She never built an immunity to Money like the rest of us. Her parents insisted she live in the dorms along with Cyrus’s. She’ll spend the summers drifting between the city and the various Landry houses. It hardly matters. Her parents are never home anyway. That’s the price of running the world’s leading tech company. Fortunately—or maybe unfortunately—that means they can buy Poppy the best in life, including an education at Valmont University. In fact, the only thing they don’t give her is their time.
“You, darling, are not unwanted,” Cyrus soothes her. “I’ll take you anytime. You know that.”
Her eyes narrow at his advance. “I think I’ll stick with the dorms.”
“Anyway,” Cyrus says heavily, “I couldn’t leave him to languish. I thought we could show him a good time.”
Languish? A good time? I can’t find words. They’re stuck boiling in my throat, burning it raw. I don’t know if I want to cry or scream. This is different. It’s not the passionate, hate-driven anger Sterling released in me. This is sour and rotten. This is betrayal. I don’t know why I expect them to care. They never have before. Still, I cast a frantic look at Poppy, hoping she’ll save me. She’s the only one I can always count on, but she’s mesmerized by Cyrus’s new pet like the rest of them.
It’s as though none of them remember why they’re here, except the one person I wish didn’t. They begin planning what to do next, peppering Sterling with questions. He answers them. They watch him. He watches me. His eyes scan and dissect, taking me apart piece by piece like I’m an experiment. For a few minutes, I sit there and let him.
“What do you think, Sterling? We could go to the pool house.” Ava leans toward him, angling her curvy body to flash him some cleavage.
His gaze stays glued to me. “I want to know what Adair thinks.”
Heads swivel in my direction, proving they’d forgotten I was even here—and son-of-a-bitch Sterling wanted me to know it.
There’s not an ounce of social nicety left in me as I push to my feet, tottering on my heels, flushed with their betrayals. They’re acting like we’re just hanging out. Cyrus brought along a new friend. Said friend is a grade-A jackass, taunting me at my own mother’s funeral, and every Southern belle in the room wants to show him her welcome wagon.
“I think you can go to hell,” I say.
His eyes flash. Everyone freezes. Except me. I’m already across the room. I should go back. I should apologize. That’s what my mom would want me to do.
Except she’s dead—and I seem to be the only one who cares.
“Let her go,” I hear Sterling tell them. “She’s upset about her mom.”
No one comes after me. The Court has a new king.
I never asked for them to come. I don’t want them here. I don’t want him here, so why do I feel so alone?
Adair
Present Day
The will is being read—and I quote—in the comfort of our own home. What a joke. In fairness to our legal team, most people would consider Windfall comfortable. They see the 10,000 square foot mansion with its house staff, garden staff, tennis courts, swimming pool, and guesthouses, and they make assumptions. I had the privilege of growing up here, which means I know better. Windfall is anything but comfortable. My father built the house
