Page 307 of Poor Little Rich Girl

“Nope.” What is this shit? “I only just agreed to be Gabe’s date. We’ve been standing in line for twenty minutes. Gabe may relish a good line because he’s British, but do I look like the kind of girl who queues for fun?”

“I could have sworn I already sold you a ticket…” Daphne taps her iPad. “Yup, I’ve got you down here – one for Mackenzie Malloy. You picked it up from me yesterday.”

My blood runs cold. “I didn’t.”

“You did. Are you high or something? I remember. We have a five-minute conversation about whether a red cocktail dress would be too predictable.” Brandy rolls her eyes.

“Well, I lost it. So can you void that ticket and give me another, I’d be super grateful.” I bat my eyelashes.

“No can do, I’m afraid.” Brandy folds her hand across the iPad and gives me a satisfied smile. “Health and Safety, you see. Each ticket has to have a student’s name, and I can’t sell the same student two tickets.”

I lean across the table, ready to put her head through that iPad, when Gabe plonks down his Visa Black. “I’ll have three tickets – one for me, one for George, and one for my date, Claudia Jones.”

“I’ve never heard of Claudia Jones.” Brandy taps the screen to bring up the card reader.

“She doesn’t go to this school.” Gabriel winks at me.

We get our tickets and head outside to the bleachers. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Gabe wraps a hand around my shoulders and pulls me close. “Relax, she probably just forgot who she was talking to or wrote the information down wrong. Brandy isn’t exactly batting a full wicket.”

“I’m Mackenzie Malloy,” I snap. “People don’t forget me. She was here, I know it.”

Mackenzie Malloy has been at Stonehurst Prep, walking the halls like she owns the place. Like this is her fucking school.

She has a ticket to the Valentine’s dance.

That means one thing.

Bad shit is about to go down.

Claudia

I spend the last two periods mentally running through what Mackenzie Malloy could possibly have planned for the Stonehurst Prep Valentine’s dance. She’s made it perfectly clear she’s willing to open fire in a room full of strangers. Should I call in a bomb scare to the dance, or find some way to get it canceled?

Or do we use the dance to lure her from her foxhole? Is it the perfect time to spring a trap and finally get rid of my batshit crazy sister?

All thought of Mackenzie vanishes when I see the package waiting for me on the steps of Malloy Manor. When I harass Tiberius about letting delivery men get so close, he fixes me with a terrifying stare. “These weren’t the kind of men you turn away.”

I take the package inside and lift the lid. Inside is an exquisite white silk gown, encrusted with thousands of tiny diamond beads. I hold it up against my body. It’s the perfect fit.

The perfect dress for a white wedding.

I swallow. It would be the easy path to just agree to this fake marriage. To grit my teeth, open my legs, and go through with it for Queen and Empire. It would keep Nero distracted while I built up enough power to squash him forever.

But for how long? I know Nero Lucian. He wants my empire – every inch of my father’s legacy I’ve managed to claw back. And he knows my weak spots – my family. If I’m tied to him, he’ll have all the leverage he needs to force me to do his bidding. The only way I can ensure their safety is to own this town.

And if he tries to force me to go to be with him, I’ll cut his dick off, and that’ll bring a world of hell down on us that we don’t need right now.

I call out for Antony. He appears in my doorway in a flash, his mouth a hard line. He smirks as he sees the dress in my arms. “Planning your upcoming nuptials?”

I throw a shoe at him. “Instead of being a smartass, how about lifting a finger to help me get out of this?”

He folds his arms and glares at me. “I had a plan. It was called ‘protect my cousin from being dragged into the criminal underworld.’ You chose to claim your father’s legacy. You made that deal with the Imperators. I don’t see why you can’t just follow through. What’s it to you to add two horny old goats to your harem?”

“Slut shame me again and I’ll boil you in the bull.” I waggle my finger at him. Antony smirks. He knows I’d never hurt him.

Antony stalks into the room and sits on the corner of the bed. “While we’re on the subject of fucking with the plans, there’s something I should tell you.”

My stomach clenches. Just what we need, more bad news. “What?”

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