Page 84 of Wicked Prince

That gets his attention. "I'm sorry, what?"

"What I said. It was about six years ago, back while they were still in Italy," I explain. "The family is rich and well-connected enough that they were able to get him out of any consequences for it, and it was ruled an 'accident,' but everyone knows he did it. Why do you think they moved here?"

I can tell he doesn't quite believe me, but he's listening, at least. "The American Dream?" he asks, still sarcastic, but there's a hint of doubt in his voice.

"Sure. If the American Dream is getting away with murder and starting fresh in a new place."

"Do you have proof of any of this?"

"Come on, Anthony. Men like your father make a living by making sure proof of anything disappears, for the right price," I say. "The Romeros are the only family on the East Coast with pockets as deep as ours."

He doesn't reply right away, but I can tell he's considering it. "And if I don't believe you?"

"Don't take my word for it. The rumors speak loudly enough," I say. "I'm sure if you do a little digging, you'll come away with your own conclusions."

He falls silent, staring me down for a few moments before he sighs and looks away. "I'll look into it. No promises."

"That's all I ask," I say, holding up my hands.

He starts to go back up the steps before he pauses. "Oh, and one more thing."

"Yeah?" I ask, curious.

"You need to make up your mind," he says firmly. "Either man up, break things off with that bitch and pray Amelia gives you another chance you don't deserve, or leave her the fuck alone. She's got enough shit to deal with without you being an indecisive asshole."

"Fair enough," I mutter. "But no promises."

He just shakes his head with an exasperated look and walks upstairs, mumbling something about straight men being dickheads.

Can't entirely say he's wrong.

At least for tonight, I can keep an eye on Stefan, and make sure he and Amelia don't get too close. I'm barely back in my room to get ready for the evening when my phone starts buzzing again. I don't even have to look to know it's Kayleigh, but I check the message just in case.

And it's a picture of her in a bra asking what she should wear tonight even though the shirts she's holding up are almost all the way out of frame. Like I give a flying fuck about any of that shit.

Delete.

Is it even possible to block your girlfriend's number?

ChapterThirty-Two

AMELIA

As I stand on the curb, staring up at the family home, I feel like I might as well be at the doorstep of Dracula's castle.

Actually, scratch that. I would take my chances with Dracula over Natalie any day. At least he's well-read.

If there is one thing that's making me dread tonight a little less, it's the fact that I'm not showing up alone. Stefan is at my side, looking dapper as ever in a nice tan blazer that brings out the gold in his hair, fitted slacks, and a white button-down shirt. He looks effortlessly good no matter what he's wearing, and I'm glad I dressed up for the occasion so I don't feel totally outclassed.

Dad always finds a way to bitch no matter what I wear, but since he approved of what I wore to the restaurant, I decided to just recycle that outfit since it was safe. It isn't really that I care much one way or another about how he feels about my fashion choices, but the night is bound to be awkward as it is, and I don't feel like making my life any harder than I need to.

In a weird way, deciding that I'm going to check out eventually has made me enjoy it more. My classes are still kind of boring, but now that I'm not stressed out about maintaining good grades, I actually find a few somewhat interesting. Between Stefan and Anthony, I don't feel alone like I did when I first came to Bainbridge, either.

Of course, now I'm dealing with the inevitability of the isolation that's sure to follow my great escape, but I try not to think about that too much.

"You good?" Stefan asks as we stand side-by-side at the doorstep.

"Yeah," I answer, smiling up at him. "I'm good."

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