by Rachel Shane
I spun around, slapping him in the face with my long dark hair, and stomped toward Mackenzie and Corey who hadn’t even been back at school for three days and already were locking lips. “Hold me back. Before I do something stupid.” I spread my legs in a fighting stance and raised my fists.
Mackenzie pushed her auburn hair behind her ear and placed a gentle palm on my shoulder. “He’s not worth it. He’s just trying to get a rise out of you.”
Corey grunted, sliding his fingers along the dark stubble on his jaw. “He only ever invites people places when he wants to show off.”
My shoulders straightened at Corey’s words. This was my chance to show off. The party on the first floor might be completely sanctioned, but everyone had skeletons. And they usually hid those in closets. “Cover for me.”
I did a quick recon sweep. Another bouncer guarded the back entrance, blocking me from the back staircase, but Harrison neglected to remember one thing about me: I used to live here.
Mackenzie’s hand fell from my shoulder as I strutted into the kitchen. Between the industrial stove and the stainless steel refrigerator rested a door that led to a small basement room used for additional food storage. I twisted the knob and descended down the creaky stairs. Darkness crept around me, but wooden walls guided my way as I bypassed two additional freezers and metal shelves lined with large tubs of generic brands. Mayonnaise instead of Hellman’s. Chemicals instead of fresh meat. I turned a corner and crept up the back staircase. The first floor landing was enclosed by a locked door, which meant the bouncer wouldn’t see me as I kept going right on upstairs.
I pulled off my stilettos and dangled them in my hands, pressing the balls of my bare feet into the leftover carpet as I traipsed upstairs. I intended to breeze right past the second level but nostalgia tugged me in the other direction, if only for a moment. The closed door of my old room coaxed me like a beacon. My heart rammed at all the memories inside that now belonged to someone else. I pivoted on my heels and pounded toward the stairwell again. The lump in my throat grew larger until I retreated into the sanctuary of the third floor. I never used to come up here when I lived in, mostly because Layla—our former president—and her cronies held court.
But now Harrison Wagner was king of this castle.
The President’s suite, which should have been mine—another thing Harrison stole from me—resided at the far left of the house. The room was larger than the triples on the second floor and boasted its own private bathroom. I let out a sharp laugh at Harrison’s gaudy black satin bedspread and the new wall sconces affixed above his bed to give the place optimal romantic lighting. Dusty tomes of European literature lined the top shelf of his desk to show off while his real treasure, a nerdy comic book collection, was hidden in boxes beneath his bed. I spotted a few copies of rare Japanese manga and groaned in annoyance that he secretly liked the same ones I did. That he’d even heard of them. His textbooks faced out and proud as if he wanted the world to stumble in here and see he was taking Advanced Journalism classes. His nightstand revealed a retainer, a shit ton of loose change, and an unopened box of condoms. Wishful thinking there, Smarmy.
The faint pump of bass music rose to the floor and covered my stomp across the room. I pulled open each desk drawer and lifted a ream of blank paper from the bottom one, uncovering a manilla envelope concealed beneath. In scratchy boy handwriting, it was labeled: Custody Hearing. Strange. When I flipped through it, I found several Internet article print outs about gaining custody, along with copies of a bunch of legal forms. My heart thumped and my eyes zoomed to the name of the dependent: Lily Wagner. Did Harrison have a kid or something?
And how could I use that against him?
With a flick of the mouse, I nudged his computer awake. An InDesign layout for Thursday’s The Daily Snowflake newspaper issue popped on screen. He was so damn punctual he was already working on an issue that wouldn’t release for five more days. I clicked through the pages, my shoulders tensing as I braced to find some unflattering or scandalous article about Yours, outing us before we even had a chance to get our footing. But the stories seemed clean, if not safe. I was about to shut the stupid thing off when my eyes picked out a small eighth of a page ad in the bottom corner.
New PR position available at The Daily Snowflake.
I allowed a smile to curve my lips as I clicked out of the newspaper file. His class schedule hung from the inside of his desk, and I snapped a photo of it with my phone so I could come away with something useful in his boring-as-hell room. A way to stalk him seemed like a starting point. Or not stalk, really. More like keep your enemies close by knowing his whereabouts.
As a last resort, I ripped open his closet. Button down shirts in every shade of safe hung from the bars. A neat row of shoes lined the back of his meticulously organized closet. And there in the very center stood the jackpot. A beautiful, gleaming, metal file cabinet.
Just as I settled onto my knees and wrapped my fingers under the glorious handle—
The door swung open. My heart lodged in my throat.
In two steps Harrison rushed over and blocked my escape by leaning casually against the closet doorjamb. “I thought I’d find you here.” He eyed me up and down. “The girls always end up in my room. On their knees.”
My cheeks flamed. To cover, I stood up and dusted off my pants. “Oh, so that’s why your box of condoms is unused.”
“I could turn you into the Greek Org right now. How convenient there’s a rep downstairs. Trespassing.” He ticked off his fingers. “Breaking and entering. Stealing.”
I opened my palms as if to show him my cards. “Unless I stole your heart, I’m very clearly empty handed.”
He pursed his lips. “I think you mean…red handed?”
I let out a growl and when I caught his grin deepening, I froze. New tactic. Offense. I flipped my hair, swayed my hips, and swaggered toward him, letting my breasts brush his shirt. “So what will it take for you to let me out of here scot free?” My fake lashes fluttered over my lids. This, I could do. Make a guy fall to pieces with some sexy gestures and even sexier words. It had been my ultimate talent, my pastime. My greatest secret. I’d vowed not to sink to this level anymore just to win, but exerting power over Harrison seemed worth the sacrifice.
“Blackmail.” His thumb popped up to tally my new offense. “Bribery.” Index finger joined.
My fists clenched at my sides but I aimed my smile at him. The one that always brought guys to their knees around me. Except one guy but no amount of cleavage would have swayed him to my side. My heart pricked at the thought of Nate, my gay best friend, which still stung a little. But I was over my crush on him. Mostly.
“No bribes,” I said. “Just a good old fashioned chat.” I stroked my finger along Harrison’s bicep, trailing all the way down his smooth tanned skin to his wrist. I made my voice go low and breathy. “Unless there was something you wanted.”
Please say dick punch. Please say dick punch.
He stared at me with a hungry, animalistic gaze that made my mouth water while also making my fists curl. “I want you,” he breathed. My own lungs responded with a ragged pump. “To leave me alone,” he finished. The grin returned, strategically placed just like his words. “Or rather, to leave Out House alone.”
I forced myself not to bristle. “I take that to mean you think we’re an actual threat?” Good to know. I might not have found anything incriminating, but I filed that information away—Harrison Wagner was scared of us—and let out a grand sigh. “But fine. You win. I’ll leave Out House alone.”
“Pleasure doing business with you.” He stepped aside, allowing me to pass.
“That’s the only kind of pleasure you’re going to get from me.” I started to strut out of his room but I spun around and tilted my head. “Do you have a kid?”
He let out a sharp laugh. “Do I need to add drugs to your list of offenses?” he said. “Because you must be smoking something to think I have a kid.”
&nbs
p; I crossed my arms. “Then who’s Lily and why do you have a file about a custody hearing for her?”
His jaw tightened and for one brief moment I knew I had gotten to him. “Lily’s my sister. My parents had a nasty divorce a few years ago.” He raised a brow. “Any other painful parts of my past you want to dig up and hurl back at me?”
“Nope. Just that one.” I stomped out of his room and back downstairs, wondering why he still kept a folder about a custody hearing that happened several years ago in the new room he just moved into this weekend. Probably not the best idea to steal the last word during a battle against the guy who held all the cards, but I couldn’t help myself. As soon as I reunited with the lame party, my breath escaped my lungs on a gust. As far as I was concerned, my deal with Harrison ended as soon as his evidence against me did. I was now in the clear.
I squared my shoulders, wiggled my hips to the music, and reinforced my self-imposed mission to get Out House—and especially Harrison—back for stealing our house.
Which meant I had to unearth whatever it was Harrison feared I’d find.
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Other titles by Rachel Shane
Available Now
Young Adult
Alice in Wonderland High
Kasey Screws Up The World
New Adult
Premature Evacuation, Underground Sorority Book 1
Coming Soon
New Adult
Cunning Linguist, Underground Sorority Book prequel short story (Coming in November)
A Bone to Pick, Underground Sorority Book 3 (Coming in late 2015)
Thank you to my wonderful agent, Jim McCarthy, who plucked me out of the slush and helped make my dreams come true.
This book would not exist with the continual support of Cady Vance, Chandler Baker, and Naticia Hutichins. You all save me on a daily basis. Thanks especially to Naticia for your copy editing help. Lunch on me!
Thanks to Denise Jaden for all your keen insight into my books. You were my first reader on this book, back when it didn’t resemble anything on the current page, and the book is all the more better for it.
Thanks to all my early beta readers on this book, especially those from Critique Circle and Absolute Write. You have helped shape every word contained in these covers. Thanks to Sarah LaPolla and Dana Bacher for your revision suggestions that shaped the book.
Thanks to Ladies Noir, Binders, KBoards, Absolute Write, Twitter, and all the other writerly online hangouts where I found great friends and great advice.
Thanks also to Crista Finnochio, Erika Shenker, Chelsey Wolf, Amanda Simon, Melanie Doyle and all my other friends at Syracuse University who inspired me to write this.
And of course I can’t forget my loving family, for your continual support. But most importantly I’d like to thank my husband Josh and my daughter Quinn for being my rocks.
Lastly, thank YOU for taking the time to read this book. I hope you enjoyed it!
Rachel Shane studied Creative Writing at Syracuse University and now works as a digital Project Manager in New York City. She lives in New Jersey with her husband, young daughter, and a basement full of books.
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www.rachelshane.com
Table of Contents
DEDICATION
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Master Probation Cover
Master Probation: Chapter 1
Other titles by Rachel Shane
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
