Page 19 of Heartbreak Kings
“Just the usual hate mail.” I didn’t go into detail. “But that’s daily.”
“I see. That’s unfortunate. Sadly, when you break new ground—or are used to break new ground—some level of hate is inevitable.” I made a noncommittal sound, and he chuckled. “But don’t worry. You won’t be getting that from me.”
“That’s good to hear.” When I finally followed Blake toward the scent of steak and spices, I almost stopped short, turned, and walked back out. I kept my smile on, my nerves under wraps and my stride even, but my heart started beating so fast it hurt.
It was uncomfortable enough being there with two men whom I didn’t quite trust but was attracted to. But as soon as we walked across the polished wooden floor and went through the archway into the grand dining room, I knew I was in even more trouble than expected.
Marcus sat near the far end of the long trestle table that dominated the room. His pale skin shone against the black of his tuxedo. His black hair was slicked back from his widow’s peak, and his black eyes danced as he caught sight of me. He raised a hand in a brief wave. I returned it and then glanced around at the other three—who all wore black tuxedoes and, with no exception, were assorted varieties of smoking hot.
Oh shit. I think I may be in trouble here.
There was an empty seat between Marcus and the head of the table where Blake settled. Directly across from the empty seat was a powerfully muscled blond man with pale amber eyes that reminded me of a cat’s eyes. His strong Germanic features and fair skin made him appear as if he might have walked out of a sculptor’s studio. Now and again, he tugged unconsciously at his tie band, as if unused to the constriction around his muscular neck. As he glared at me, I saw his golden eyes widen just slightly.
Beside him, a tall, lean man with a narrow face and sharp nose regarded me, slim fingers steepled in front of him. He had auburn hair that tumbled in waves to his jawline like the hair of a medieval prince, and his almond-shaped brown eyes had dark red highlights in them, just like his hair. He appeared to consider me more seriously than the others, a thoughtful little frown on his face that seemed deeper and more genuine than the smiles I saw everywhere else.
The last one looked younger than the others and had already ditched his tie and unbuttoned the top buttons on his crisp white shirt. He lounged in his seat almost sullenly, his smile twisted up slightly at one side, more of a smirk than anything else. He had spiky white-blond hair, so pale that his eyebrows were hard to make out, and the darkest blue eyes I had ever seen. He was shorter than the others, but bulkier, as if he tried to make up for his lack of height in the gym. Somehow, he irritated me more at first sight than even Blake had, but I returned his smirk and moved toward the empty seat between Blake and Marcus.
“Gentlemen, this is Sabine, our guest for the evening. As I understand it, she has several questions for us about our organization and the behavior of certain of our pledges. I trust you will give her your full cooperation.”
“Yeah, well, she can fucking wait until after I get some food in me.” The shorter blond grabbed up his knife and fork and attacked the plate of steak in front of him. His poor attitude snapped me out of my daze. I found myself ironically grateful. It was like a splash of cold water, bringing back my focus.
It was only then that I noticed the source of the smell. They had loaded the plate in front of me—medium steak, grilled to perfection, creamed spinach, and a baked potato with butter and sour cream melting into its split.
Oh boy. That looks like about 10,000 extra sit-ups.But I wasn’t about to hold back.How long had it been since I had a delightful meal like this?I winced slightly. Last year on my birthday, when Mama had taken me to that family restaurant. And I knew at once that whoever was doing the cooking for the fraternity would have sniffed at that tiny, dry steak, thumb-sized spud, and salad bar dominated by iceberg lettuce.
Rich guys. This is probably every day for them.
I shrugged off the youngest one’s rudeness as he shoveled steak into his face, now and again eyeing me from just over Marcus’s shoulder. Blake shot him an annoyed glare and cleared his throat, which he ignored. “That’s Jude. You must excuse him—he has no manners.” And that annoyed Blake.
“Better no manners than no balls,” Jude shot back, the smirk deepening. “You’re the one inviting Admin’s pet female to dinner instead of kicking her off the campus.” He eyed me coldly. “Yeah, you heard me, bitch.”
Oh shit. So much for a civil meal.My eyebrows rose. “Sorry, what? I don’t speak fuckboy.”
Marcus burst out laughing. “Jude, get your boxers out of your ass and stop being a dick. The poor woman hasn’t even tried her food yet.”
“I don’t give a fuck,” came Jude’s sullen reply. “She shouldn’t be here, eating our food.”
I stared at him, then shrugged. Cut myself a chunk of steak, smirked at him, then stuffed it into my mouth. I chewed and swallowed while he glared at me. “Get up and stop me, then.”
He sat back, blinking rapidly, almost dropping his fork, and Marcus laughed again. “Don’t mind him. He’s just salty because his dick’s as short as the rest of him.”
The German across the table dropped his face into his hand and laughed silently. Jude shot Marcus a murderous stare and muttered, “That’s not what your mom said.”
“The one trying not to laugh at our junior associate is Daniel, our resident exchange student. The one with the hair is Nathaniel. He’s annoyed because we pried him away from his computer for this.”
“I’ll manage,” Nathaniel shot back with a bored tone. His gaze slid over me, and I suddenly felt self-conscious all over again, though his neutral expression didn’t change. “Just as long as this doesn’t take all night.”
“I brought fifteen questions total, only some of which will need elaboration,” I reassured in my most businesslike tone. “I’ll be publishing highlights of the interview online.” Which also stood as a warning that if they caused me any problems, I would publish that. Noticing Jude glaring at me continuously, I had to admit, no matter how cute he was, the fact that he was trying to pick a fight with me this early made it clear to me that there would, in fact, be problems.
That’s just fine. If he’s going to be a dick, I’ll just interview the reasonable ones, and he can choke. Meanwhile, I’m not letting him ruin my meal.
“How do we know,” Nathaniel blurted in a smooth voice, “that you will not spin the interview to benefit your political agenda?”
My eyebrows rose, and I stared back into those mild, cold eyes. “My ‘political agenda’ is to report what happens. My positive or negative impression will determine what I report—and that impression is entirely up to you.”
He lifted an eyebrow slightly, the tiniest smile tugging at his thin lips. “Is that so?”
“Yeah,” Marcus remarked in a teasing tone. “Maybe we should just duct-tape Jude’s mouth now.”
