Page 16 of Wicked Prince

"You don't seem like the frat boy type," I admit.

He laughs. "I'm not, but I'm a legacy, and I've already given my dad enough reasons to have a heart attack without breakingthatfamily tradition."

I purse my lips. "Yeah, I know how that is."

I regret saying anything as soon as I see the glint of curiosity in his gaze. "So, what does your family do, anyway?"

It's an innocuous enough question, or at least, it would be under any other circumstances. I hesitate, not loving the fact that I have to lie to the first person who's been nice to me, but sticking with the cover story seems like the safest bet.

"Nothing. Not my immediate family, anyway. I'm… kind of a satellite of the Carillo family."

Despite my best attempt to phrase that as casually as possible, I can tell from the way his eyes widen and his entire demeanor shifts that I didn't succeed.

"Carillo?" he echoes in a reverent and slightly fearful whisper. "Seriously?"

"It's a distant relation," I insist. "I only got in here as a favor to my stepmom. I barely even know that side of the family."

"Still," he says, looking at me in disbelief. "Being anyone Carillo adjacent is a big fucking deal around this place."

"I guess," I say with a shrug.

He seems like he wants to say something else, but the door opens and it's more than just the gust of chilly evening air that draws my attention. I should have known from the way everyone else in the room goes dead silent, but I turn around anyway, and I’m actually surprised to find Lorenzo standing at the door.

He's with a few of the guys I saw him playing soccer with in the courtyard, including the jock from class. The moment he locks eyes on me, it feels like we never left the hallway.

Shit.

"What's he doing here?" I ask in a whisper, turning back to Anthony.

He cocks his head in confusion. "What do you mean? Lorenzo’s part of the frat."

As soon as I hear the words, I feel like an idiot for not assuming that outright. Of course Lorenzo would be part of some elite fraternity. Because just attending this place isn't enough.

"Is something wrong?" Anthony asks.

I swallow hard, shaking my head. "No. Um, where's the bathroom?"

"Oh, it's right down the hall," he says, pointing. "And if there's some idiot already throwing up in there, there's another one upstairs to the right.”

"Thanks," I say, already on my way.

I decide to cut past the downstairs one entirely, not wanting to take the chance of getting slowed down. I just need a second to think, even though I should probably be looking for an alternate escape route.

I'm not even sure why I’m so unnerved. I want to believe it's just because I'm supposed to be keeping a low profile, and getting Lorenzo Rossi's attention is the exact opposite of that. There's part of me that knows better, though. The guy is intimidation on legs, among other things.

The upstairs bathroom is surprisingly neat for one shared by nearly a dozen guys. Not sure why I'm amused there's actually a hand towel. I guess even the frat bros at Bainbridge are of a different caliber.

At the sink, I carefully dab some water on my face since I don't want my eye makeup to run and make it look like I've been crying. The cool water helps me calm down a little. I'm still fixing the minor damage to my eyeliner when I see the door open in the mirror.

I spin around, about to chew out whoever it is for not knocking when I realize it's him.

Lorenzo fucking Rossi is standing there in the doorway, looking at me with a familiar smug expression, like he owns the place. And technically, I guess it is his house, but still.

"Ever hear of knocking?" I ask, folding my arms.

Damn, he looks good. He's hot enough in the school uniform, but the dark slacks and simple grayish blue shirt he's wearing make him look like the debonair mob boss he is. His hair is slicked back away from his forehead, highlighting his masculine features, and his shirt is the perfect complement to his piercing gaze.

"Not in my own house," he shoots back, taking a step toward me. The bathroom is relatively small, so I have no choice other than to back up against the sink. As the door falls shut behind him, I notice the faint smirk on his lips. "I have to admit, I didn't think the little fawn would show up in my den."

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