Page 17 of Theirs to Ruin

“Come on, I think you’re overreacting,” Bianca said.

“Really? He thinks I’m useless for anything other than being some rich guy’s wife. I need to prove I can help regain our family fortune without marrying someone for their money.” I was ranting but I couldn’t help it. All the rage that had built up inside me when Dad started sending me those lists was pouring out.

“Cami, shut up,” Bianca hissed. She looked around to make sure nobody heard me. “Don’t talk about that shit here,” she said more quietly. “Or you really will be in trouble with Dad.”

Fuck.

What was I thinking, mouthing off in public like that? The last thing my family needed was for people to discover Dad had lost his fortune. If it got out that we were straddling the poverty line—which was what upper middle class was in our world—it would be equivalent to dropping blood in shark-infested waters. We’d be both pariah and prey in a matter of seconds.

Around here, money and power were all that mattered. The only reason we were able to attend CU in the first place was because my maternal grandfather had set up hefty trust funds to cover me and my sisters’ educations. Whatever was left would go to Elise.

“Bianca, I’m sorry,” I said, annoyed at myself.

“It’s fine, no one heard,” she reassured me, squeezing my hand. “But stop being so hard on yourself. Dad loves you. He admires your ability to analyze a situation from every angle. Your eye for detail. Your relentless drive for perfection. Don’t underestimate yourself because I sure don’t. And don’t think Dad does, either.” She shrugged and took a sip of her drink. “Besides, we’re both expected to make a good match eventually.”

Of course we were. The whole reason CU existed was to build alliances, both business and romantic, on a grand scale.

The idea spawned ten years ago, after one crime family hosted their own version of the Red Wedding. Important members of competing families had been invited under the guise of negotiations then gunned down to eliminate competition. Devastated, former enemies became allies, and ultimately got their revenge.

Afterward, the allies formed a new goal: to distance themselves and their children from turf wars, family vendettas,and racketeering disputes in favor of resource sharing, joint operations, and new family ties. To make sure this continued to happen, they had set up a Board, theVita Dura, to recruit like-minded allies. Mafia, corrupt industry tycoons, drug dealers, dirty politicians and more were welcome. The only criminals refused were those who committed crimes against women and children.

Ultimately, theVita Durafounded CU to foster alliances amongst the so-called New Guard’s children. The most recent addition to the school was the school’s matchmaker – known as theconciliantis.She recommended matches for students, be it with another student or someone from the outside. The students could refuse the match but there was enormous pressure not to.

Unless you were a Tier One student.

In that case, you were considered valuable in your own right, and you could do what you wanted.

Tier Three, not so much.

That’s why I needed to make Tier One as soon as possible—to prove to my dad and everyone else that I could do my duty by my familywithoutgetting married. I wasn’t against marriage, I just didn’t want the life my mother had lived. I had seen what living in a loveless marriage could do to a person. I’d vowed at her funeral that I would marry for love, or I would never marry at all.

“Fine.” Bianca sighed, mistaking my silence for sulking. “I can see I’m not going to change your mind, so let’s talk about it. Where are you in the rankings?”

I leaned closer to her. I could barely hear her over the banging guitar and near orgasmic screaming of Led Zeppelin. God, this place was major old school.

“I’m right behind Ava and Jenji.” Both girls were smart and popular and I wasn’t sure why they hadn’t made Tier One yet—if life was fair, it was because they could both be heinous bitches, but I doubted that was it.

"That’s rough. They’re tough competition," Bianca said with a wince. “Ava’s a brilliant strategist with a flair for improvisation. She’s like a goddamn chess player. Always five steps ahead. And Jenji has a near photographic memory and is just plain devious. But you're smarter than them, Cami. Plus, things change in the blink of an eye. One slip-up, one ingenious move can flip the game on its head. Remember what happened to Amy Groover?”

“You’re proving my point.”

Amy and I hadn’t been friends exactly, but she was sweet and I’d enjoyed talking to her. She got demoted to Tier Three her junior year after failing a class and was matched to some mean old guy in Queens. She quit school and ran away rather than live that life. I shuddered, thinking of some of the names my father had put on his lists.

“My point is you’re not Amy Groover,” Bianca said. “She didn’t have to quit and run, she could have kept going. So don't you dare quit on your dreams, okay? When you get out of your head and trust your instincts, you’re a storm. Keep pushing, keep learning, and don't forget to celebrate your wins." Her hand found mine, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "And remember this: when you hit Tier One, it won't be as Bianca's sister or Ava's ex-best friend. You'll be Camille, a powerhouse in your own right. And they won't forget it."

As Bianca's words echoed in my mind, I let out a skeptical, "I guess," wishing I could be as confident as she was.

"That's the spirit," she replied, a sarcastic edge to her voice. She lifted her glass and clicked mine. "To us.”

"To us," I repeated. But because I was still thinking about Amy, my enthusiasm was as weak as a soggy French fry.

I sipped my drink, letting the citrus-infused alcohol dull my thoughts. Soon, guys started swarming us, mostly to chat up Bianca. I smirked as she played them like a fiddle beforethey realized they weren’t going to get anything from her and wandered away.

The bar's door swung open and a rush of night air swirled in, cold enough to make me shiver. I looked up to see Dante heading toward a table of bikers next to the pool table.

“Holy shit,” Bianca murmured, her eyes wide.

Holy shit was right.

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