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Charles lets out a sigh. “That makes things a little more difficult but nothing I can’t handle.”
“Thank you,” I whisper.
“What did I tell you, Ocean? As long as you’re living under my roof, you’re considered family,” he tells me, digging into his pocket and pulling out his phone. “Now run along and get yourself cleaned up. Make sure you drop Colton’s shirt into the hamper to be cleaned and pressed so he’s not down a shirt.”
“Oh, um … this isn’t Colton’s shirt. It’s Milo’s.”
Charles’ eyes darken. “Colton didn’t offer you a shirt or something to cover up with?”
Whoops. Maybe I’ve said too much. “Nope.”
Charles presses a button on his phone and holds it to his ear, looking at me as he waits. “If that is all, you need to get a move on. It seems I have some things to discuss with my son.”
“Of course,” I say. “Thank you.”
“It’ll be dealt with by morning,” he assures me before speaking into his phone. “Colton. My office. Ten minutes.” With that, he ends the call and I scurry away, feeling the weight of the world lifting off my shoulders. Not to mention, it sounds like Colton is about to get an ass-whooping from Daddy Warbucks and I don’t want to be here when that happens.
I hurry up to my room and instantly dive into the over-the-top walk-in closet. I peel Milo’s shirt over my head and grab a pair of sweatpants and a cotton crop. Being certain that Colton and his friends aren’t here, I stride out of my closet and get myself dressed.
After a day like this, it would have been nice to be able to call Nic or one of the boys but with my phone currently in the hands of my clothes thief, I go without. Instead, I curl up in bed and try to forget that today ever happened.
It’s only a few minutes later when I hear Charles’ loud booming voice flowing from downstairs. There are too many walls between here and there, distorting his words beyond recognition, but from the sound of it, I’d say that Colton is here and getting the ass-whopping he so desperately needs.
The thought has a grin stretching across my face and with nothing left to do, I grab a textbook and try my best to catch up on my schoolwork.
By 3:30, Milo is standing in my bedroom doorway with an annoyed Harrison by his side. “Might I remind you about our guest list. It was put in place for a reason.” I just stare at him as Milo silently laughs behind him which only serves to piss him off more. Harrison lets out a loud groan. “You’ll do well to remember that I am not responsible for running around after you. If you are inviting friends over, you should answer the door yourself instead of wasting my time. I work solely for the Carrington’s, not disrespectful princesses like yourself.”
With that, Harrison zips his lips and walks out the door, leaving Milo to welcome himself into my room. “How are you feeling?” he questions, finding his discarded shirt on the end of my bed.
I shrug my shoulders as I reach for the keys of his Aston Martin on my bedside table. “Been better,” I admit, tossing his keys across the room and watching as he effortlessly catches them. “The tub of ice cream helped a lot.”
“Damn, that bad?” he murmurs. “Would hearing that Coach Sylvester was just arrested help?”
My eyes bug out of my head and I sit up a little straighter. “Bullshit. Really?”
“Yep, just before school let out. Cops pulled up and took him away in cuffs. They interviewed a few of the students from our PE class and they all had the same story so I guess you won’t have to worry about that shit again.”
I grin wide. “Wow. He really does work fast.”
“Who does?”
“Charles Carrington. When I got back here I kind of went on a rant and told him everything that happened today. Dean Simmons was a douche and made out like I’d orchestrated the whole thing as some sort of attention-seeking stunt. Charles said he was going to handle it. He wasn’t impressed.”
“No shit. Charles is on the board for BSA and personally vouched for Simmons and a fuck-up like this reflects poorly on him. He’s probably happy you went straight to him about it so he could handle it before word spread.”
“Well, shit. I didn’t think about that.”
“Trust me, around here, everyone is in each other’s pockets. It’s hard to keep it straight sometimes,” he explains before stepping toward the door. “Anyway, I wish I could stay and keep you company, but my father has requested my presence this afternoon.”
“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”
Milo presses his lips into a hard line. “It’s too hard to tell. That man is unpredictable but if I have to take a wild guess, he’s probably heard about what happened today. He’s on the board with Charles so he would want to hear it directly from me.”
