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“Do I look like I’m kidding?”
I do a mental calculation. If it costs that for each student to come here, and there are around two hundred students, then he’s talking about this place turning over two hundred million dollars a year. How is that even legal?
I remember the reason I’m here.
Maybe it isn’t.
“Oi, Valentino!”
The loud voice cuts through the general chatter of the cafeteria.
My stomach sinks. Domenic is walking toward us, only he’s not alone. His arm is slung around the neck of a beautiful blonde. She’s looking at me as though I’m the shit she’s just found on the soles of her Manolo Blahniks.
Inwardly, I cringe. I feel like a piece of shit, too.
“What the fuck are you doing sitting with her?” Domenic demands.
Valentino kicks out a chair and motions to it. “Sit down, D, and chill.”
“Chill? It’s bad enough I have to see the cuckoo in the nest after hours. I don’t want to sit with her in class time.”
Valentino glances at a watch I recognize as a Rolex and shrugs. “Not class time, yet, D. There’s plenty of other places you can sit. I thought I’d get to know our new student a little bit.”
Domenic stares at Valentino for a long beat, but then he sits at the chair that has been kicked out for him. The girl goes to sit down, too, but Domenic points to a far table and waves her away. “Your bestie, Tabitha is over there. Go sit with her, Verity.”
It’s not a question, it’s an order.
Oh, my God, he’s so rude and obnoxious. It seems I’m not the only one he treats like crap.
The girl pouts but says nothing as she sashays off. Her skirt is super short, and I’m sure it’s shorter than the rules allow.
“You’ve got her well trained,” Valentino observes.
Domenic shrugs. “She’s a dumb bitch.”
His words shock me, and I can’t hold in the small gasp that escapes me. “You really are a woman-hating asshole, aren’t you?” I seethe at him.
“I hate dumb bitches, not all women.”
“You’ve been rude as hell to me too,” I point out.
He smiles, slow and nasty. “Like I say, I hate dumb bitches.”
My cheeks heat, and I can’t quite believe he’s said that to me.
Valentino shakes his head. “Ignore him. He hates Mondays.”
“Too fucking right.” Domenic stands and stalks to the food bar but returns with only a black coffee. He sips at it and scowls around the room.
“Why do you hate Mondays?” I ask, trying to have a modicum of polite conversation. After all, love him or hate him, this guy is my new family.
“It’s not Friday. Or Saturday. Or Sunday.”
“I like Mondays,” Valentino says. “The new start to a week. The days before us nothing but a blank slate upon which to create mayhem.” He laughs and leans back in his chair, stretching.
God, the muscles on him are delicious. I try not to stare, but when I look up, Domenic is watching me, and instead of his usual sneer there’s something else on his face. It disturbs me because I can’t tell what he’s feeling at all. There’s a careful blankness to his features, but his eyes are burning.
“Very poetic and all, Tino,” Domenic drawls. “Don’t you think, Mackenzie?”
