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He winks. “I’m glad to hear it. See you soon, Eloise.”
When he’s gone, I slowly turn, grinning from ear-to-ear as the other girls explode into fits of giggles.
“Oh my God, E,” Christina squeals. “He is so fucking hot.”
“And he so wants to bang you,” Demi snickers.
I blush deeply, rolling my eyes. “He just wants me in The Order. I mean, it’s initiation time, and he wants me on the list of prospectives….”
“He wants you on his dick,” Giorgiana cackles in her musical Italian-accented voice.
“Okay, arrêtez,” I mumble, still red-faced and grinning as the four of us start walking across the stunning Knightsblood campus, full of sprawling Georgian and Jacobethan-style towers and buildings, toward our dormitory.
To the casual observer, Knightsblood is just another old-school, old-money private college tucked away on the quaint, wealthy shores of southern Connecticut, just outside New York City. In the 1800s, when it was founded, the idea was to create a “truly English” university in America for the heirs of lords, dukes, and other royally-adjacent families who were coming here from England. Those lords and dukes wanted a school to match Harvard, Yale, and Princeton for prestige, but—as if that were even possible—to make it even snootier by only admitting those of aristocratic lineage.
It’s still the school motto: “To the blood of king and crown, cross and knighthood.”
Hence, Knightsblood.
But things have changed since then. The school is still outrageously selective. But these days it caters to the heirs of a different kind of monarchy.
For instance, there’s me, the second daughter of Andre LeBlanc, head of one of the more powerful mafia families in Paris. Giorgiana’s father is head of a huge Cosa Nostra family back in Sicily. And Demi and Christina, who are cousins, come to Knightsblood by way of the Romano family in Chicago.
Even Ansel, who we were just talking to, is from the Munich-based Albrecht family, one of the biggest crime syndicates in Germany and Austria. Mafia. Bratva. Yakuza. Cosa Nostra. Cartel. Almost every student here comes from money and power and has criminal connections.
The school is often referred to as the Harvard of the underworld. But the students here snickeringly refer to as “Mafia Hogwarts”, a reference that makes even more sense once you get into the four secret student societies.
There’s The Order, which Ansel was just talking to me about joining, and which he’s the head of. There’s also Para Bellum, The Ouroboros Society, and The Reckless. Each has its own traits, and tends to attract students of similar interests during pledge week, sort of like fraternities or sororities.
“Fuck, if you get in?—”
“Ansel literally just asked her personally to come to the meeting” Giorgiana drawls with a roll of her eyes. “She’s in. Sorry.”
Demi, my roommate, makes a face. “I know. Which means I’m going to get reassigned to some other loser like me who didn’t get into one of the clubs.”
Roommate pairings at Knightsblood are for your entire time here. But if you get tapped during your freshman year for one of the four ultra-selective clubs, you move out of the dorms and into one of the four mansions on campus that house those clubs once you become a sophomore.
“Oh, come on, Demi,” I grin. “You could still get into one of them. Or there’s always next year?”
She gives me a dubious look. Fair: the chances of getting picked your sophomore year for a club are slim.
“The Order membership, living in their mansion, and you get to screw Ansel Albrecht all day?” Christina sighs. “Life is so unfair.”
My face heats.
Since arriving here, these are the girls I’ve really connected with. And, as college freshmen do, we frequently gab about guys—conquests, boyfriends and flings from back home, any hookups at school since we arrived.
Christina and Demi have their fair share of wild stories. Giorgiana has double the two of them combined.
I have zero stories, wild or otherwise. And I can blame my older sister, Camille—who’s also here at Knightsblood—for that. After her wild antics in high school, dad clamped down hard on me.
No parties for me. No boyfriends. No flings or hookups.
Nada. Zilch. Rien.
Not that my friends know that. I’ve spun them a few lurid tales involving “Stephan”, my incredibly handsome, loving, sexually gifted, and obviously imaginary boyfriend from high school. I think they assume I’ve had a fling here and there since starting Knightsblood, but that I’m shy about sharing that type of stuff.
If only.
