Harvard Academy Elite Page 9

  “Sure, am I, um, in trouble or something?”

  “No, but please follow me out to the student parking lot.”

  “Okay.” I fall into step behind her, wondering what on earth this could be about. Maybe they’re relining the parking area? But that couldn’t be it; they do all that kind of stuff during summer and the other shorter breaks. The only other thing I can come up with is if they were mowing and my car was scratched, though that is usually on the weekends, so I’m pretty much at a loss on what to think.

  Silently, I follow her down the school hall and out the double doors. We take the steps leading onto the sidewalk, and my curiosity only increases with each stride as to why we need to have this conversation or whatever it is outside, instead of in her comfortable office. My mouth slackens in shock when we reach the lot, and it registers. A devastated gasp escapes from my open mouth as my eyes adjust to the bright sunshine, and I can see my car clearer. My precious Jaguar has been vandalized, the navy paint no longer gleaming with wax. I’m scared to think of what the white leather inside must look like as well. The tinted windows are busted out, and there are glass shards all over the surrounding pavement.

  “Oh, my God!” I shriek and take off in a sprint to get closer and see the extent of damage. Down the side, scraped severely into the custom dark blue paint is the word WHORE. It appears that someone took a large chunk of the broken glass and carved deeply through the multiple layers of paint, reaching the metal underneath.

  I don’t have any idea whatsoever to say about it except, how could someone hate me so much to do this?

  I

  ’m far too emotionally distracted by the destruction of my car to notice Cole step up behind me. The counselor, Mrs. Shoemaker, gestures to him, making his presence known. She shares, “Thanks to Mr. de Lacharriere for reporting this vandalism incident to the office. Otherwise, it may have sat out here until school let out. We’d have been forced to revoke your parking permit, unfortunately, due to the dangerous state of your vehicle.”

  She’s too concerned about it reflecting poorly on the school that there’s no compassion or empathy offered to me. I’m just another spoiled rich kid, right? Wrong. My father will be absolutely furious. I have no idea how I can possibly breach the subject and tell my parents about this without a violent outcome. It wasn’t my fault, yet I know I’ll take the full blame for it and be punished.

  Turning my body away, so my back faces the school, I break into sobs. It’s just a stupid car, but at the same time, it’s not at all. This was my sweet sixteen birthday gift from my parents, but that doesn’t matter. What does matter is the punishment I’ll be facing because of someone’s malicious idea of entertaining torment to inflict upon me. They may’ve seen me upset in the halls from the taunting, but I refuse to allow anyone who may be eagerly watching from the academy witness me so distraught. If I do, it’ll be giving them the exact response they wanted, I suppose.

  “Shhh beba,” Cole soothes, coming to wrap me in his strong arms. He’s smaller than Tristan and Brent muscle wise, but he’s still solid, and his embrace is everything in the moment. I secretly consider him to be a bit of a dick, but his comforting warmth is much appreciated right now. I need to lean on someone else’s strength because mine has depleted with all my stress and worry.

  Mrs. Shoemaker doesn’t comment on Cole hugging me but does say, “You’ll need to take care of this mess straightaway, Kresley. Like I mentioned, you’re fortunate Cole brought this to our attention before others saw it, so you have a little bit of time to fix this mess. Harvard Academics won’t hesitate to withdraw your parking pass and notify your parents before the end of the day. I’d hate to see that happen to you due to something you had no control over.”

  Cringing, I bury my head into Cole’s chest as I tense with the added stress of her words. I don’t know how to fix any of this. I’m freaking out for several reasons, and she’s worried about me grabbing a broom or whatever. Someone despises me so much they’d vandalize my car; I have this huge mess to clean up before classes let out shortly, and my parents will be positively livid. The only person acting like they give two shits is Cole freaking de Lacharriere, and it has my head spinning. Maybe he’s being kind for Tristan’s sake? Who knows.

  Cole grumbles, his chest vibrating as he replies, “I’ve taken care of it, Mrs. Shoemaker. If you’ll leave us to it, I’ll make sure this mess is cleaned up and Kresley makes it home safely. Oh, and if the headmaster has any concerns, he’s welcome to call my father.”

  “Yes, of course. That’s very admirable of you,” the counselor notes before walking off. Cole could be a serial killer, but no one would question him, as his daddy’s now the wealthiest contributor to our little slice of prep school. Cole’s the Harvard Academy’s Elite, the untouchable, where the staff is concerned.

  My nose runs with my hysterics, and I sniff a few times, begging myself not to make me look even worse. Red-rimmed eyes, tear-streaked cheeks, and puffy skin is plenty as far as I’m concerned. “What did you mean when you said you took care of it?” I hiccup with a tearful sob.

  “Shh, shh mon belle. Calm down,” he hums as a mammoth of a tow truck pulls into the lot right in front of my banged-up Jaguar.

  “It’s being towed?”

  He nods. “And I have a roadside crew coming to clean up all the glass as well. The lot will be back to new when everyone leaves class and comes outside. They’ll never know it happened and the school won’t be able to penalize you either.”

  “Wow...” Sighing, my head tilts back some so I can gaze up at him. Cole stepping in and taking care of this stressful situation for me was not something I’d ever expect from a de Lacharriere. “Thank you. I wouldn’t have known where to start,” I admit softly, sincere with genuine gratitude. Now, I have to break the news to Dad and prepare for his reaction.

  “Mm,” his chest rumbles at my gratefulness.

  He gestures to the Jaguar as the tow truck driver approaches. Cole uses one hand to scribble a quick signature while keeping me safe and secure with his other arm. He hands the man a crisp new one-hundred-dollar bill before the guy walks away to start loading my car up on the trailer.

  Cole gives me a squeeze and mumbles, “So calm down now, yeah?”

  Another hiccup escapes me as a fresh round of tears crests and falls unceremoniously. “I appreciate it, really. I’m just pretty much freaking out over not having a car now. I know insurance will make sure a shop fixes the paint and the windows, but what if it happens again? And what in the hell do I tell my parents? Oh, God...” I cry, wanting to turn in and just crumble.

  “I know a guy,” he soothes, leading me toward his sleek Aston Martin Vanquish. “I called him when I discovered your vehicle was ruined. He’s the one who set up the tow and cleanup for us, but that’s not all I asked him for.”

  Regarding him curiously, I wait for him to continue. Rather than speak about it anymore, he opens the passenger door of his vehicle and beckons for me to climb into the obsidian convertible. This thing is fast; I don’t have to ride in it to know. With Cole as the owner, I’d bet good money he likes to race it. He strikes me as laid-back, but dangerous and a bit reckless as well. So why am I climbing into a car with him? Because at this point, why the fuck not? I’m already going to be in serious trouble, may as well follow this rabbit hole wherever it ends up leading me.

  The drive passes by quickly, and I’m surprised when Cole brings us to his house, directly across the street from my own. Not that my parents would notice me over here anyhow. The house is too far off from the road that they can’t tell who’s coming and going in the neighborhood unless they’re pulling out of the driveway. It just wasn’t where I was expecting him to bring us; I figured we’d be heading to the tow shop or a collision place to discuss how to fix the car.

  Cole takes his time driving down the paved path leading to the quads’ immaculate home. He eventually slows and pulls to a stop right beside a brand-new cherr
y red sports car that gleams in the sunlight. He holds a hand up, basically telling me to be patient and wait. I do as he instructs and watch as he comes around to open my door. He may be dickish most of the time at school, but someone obviously taught him some manners. As soon as the door’s open, I’m freeing myself from the seat belt and climbing out.

  I stride toward the front door, but I don’t make it too far before Cole snatches my wrist. Twisting me back around toward him, I trip over my feet and fall right into his strong, waiting embrace. I’d like to believe it’s my poor balance, but he seems to have me right where he wanted. I can feel his intense scrutiny as he stares down at me. There’s so much tension building between us suddenly that I can’t seem to meet his gaze. Instead, I concentrate on his nose—it’s a bit pointy. He truly strikes me as an aristocrat. His regal French heritage is easily worn on his features, and gosh, does it make him handsome. “Over here,” he quietly rasps the demand, and my nipples tighten in response. Thankfully, he can’t see them through my thick academy shirt, or he’d quickly discover how my body responded to his raspy orders.

  Swallowing down the feeling as much as possible, I lick my lips and nod. Cole leads me to the other side of the new car. It’s so glossy, and it reminds me of a ruby. He waves his free hand in the direction of the sporty number. “It’s yours, beba.”

  My eyes light up as I take it in with more detail. “You’re letting me borrow a car?” I ask innocently, and he chuckles, amused. It’s not a pleasant laugh, either. The sound reminds me more of the big bad wolf, rather than the boy beside me with a sweet gesture.

  “Nah, I bought it for you.”

  “You bought me a Porsche?” I nearly stammer with a gasp. “But...why? Why would you waste any of your money on me?”

  “So you would be in debt to me,” he admits with a nonchalant shrug, and my nose scrunches. The guy before me is more confusing than any of the other guys I’ve met in the past—as are his three brothers. They’re all so back-and-forth and moody. It makes me think they’re playing some sort of twisted game with me. If that were the case, I’d be able to figure it out, right? I can’t think about the possibilities of that being accurate when I have so much going on right now.

  “What could I possibly have that you’d want?”

  “This.” He grins wickedly and tucks his hand behind my neck. Drawing me forward into his chest again, his head dips, and he claims my mouth. Sensations explode through my limbs—first, he’s comforting me, then fixing my problem, and now, I’m surrounded in his taste and his tender mouth. His kiss is nothing like Tristan’s or Axel’s. Cole’s lips on mine are everything I wasn’t expecting and everything I didn’t realize I wanted. He’s been hiding this other side of him from me, and he’s utterly amazing. I’m thrown off-kilter trying to wrap my mind about who Cole really is when his walls drop and he allows you in.

  His tongue plays with mine, the movements making me moan with desire. Cole catches it with his mouth, kissing the sounds away. His lips are soft, the movements tender in their pursuit, yet demanding. He’s not taking no for an answer from me, that’s for sure. Not that I’d tell him no. I wouldn’t stand a chance if I did, so why bother fighting it?

  The sexy Cajun can’t possibly be oblivious to everyone’s stares, mine included. I try to look away, but even I catch myself silently panting after one or more of the four of them. And now I’ve kissed not only one of Tristan’s brothers but two. I can’t possibly worry over it at the moment, as Cole surrounds me, beckoning my full attention.

  My fingers wind through his short, messily-styled hair. The cropped locks are soft and the perfect length for me to tug on them a bit. His free hand snakes around my waste until it rests just above my butt. My mind silently chants for him to grab it and I’m kind of freaking out that I want him to touch me all over so badly. At least let me act appalled while I’m really secretly flattered to have the bad boy’s attention. It’s his deep Southern drawl, his warm embrace, and the heady scent of his cologne that sort of swallows me up and has my knees shaking. He may be a dick most days, but today, he’s a dick who’s a damn good kisser, and he smells delicious.

  Breaking away, he leans his forehead on mine, gazing into my irises. “It was worth the wait, beba. Yeah?” His husky drawl has deepened from the intimate moment we just finished sharing, and the lowered tone has the same effect on me as eating a hot fudge sundae.

  I couldn’t agree more, not that I can voice it aloud right now or ever. The rock on my finger weighs heavily on my hand and my mind. “But Tristan...” I start to say, and he shakes his head, quieting me.

  “Tristan is grown; he knows that if I wanna kiss you, I will. The same goes for any of my brothers.”

  “Any of them?” I echo on a breath, and his lips turn up, amused with my reaction.

  “Mm. Only de Lacharrieres, shorty. Any others will be dealt with by the quad.” It’s incredible how even threats leaving his mouth can sound so deliciously enticing. It’s that Southern accent; for some reason, it’s always much more pronounced with him than with the others. Listening to him call me ‘beaba’ and shortaay’ reminds me of thick, gooey, sugary maple syrup. His voice gives me crazy good goosebumps all over.

  I keep my thoughts to myself, and after a moment, Cole releases my hand, placing the key pod to the Porsche in its place. His chin tilts, and he nods across the street toward my house. “Go take you a long bath and relax,” he orders, and I smile at his thoughtfulness. Cole’s usually a jerk, so it’s not at all what I was expecting from him. This entire day has thrown me for a loop.

  “That actually sounds like a really wonderful idea.”

  My palm’s sweaty around the key pod as excitement fills my chest over my new car, along with memories from his lips. I can’t wait to drive this beauty, even if it’s only down my driveway for now. “Thank you for this.” I flail my empty hand at the car. “And, well, for everything today. I would’ve been lost without you stepping in to help.” I press a kiss to his cheek. My gratitude and the kiss is nothing in comparison, but it’s completely genuine, and the only way I can offer him my thanks.

  Cole flashes a sexy grin and opens the driver side door for me. I climb in, sending him an appreciative smile. “Tomorrow, beba,” he promises and closes the door, and I can’t help but hope that he really does show up tomorrow at school. Thoughtful Cole is definitely someone I would like to be around, especially with how broody Brent and Tristan usually tend to be.

  The car drives like a dream and has that new car and leather smell that makes me giddy inside. I almost take it for a spin around the neighborhood, but decide to take Cole’s suggestion to heart and go straight home to soak in a tub full of steaming hot water and bubbles. I don’t get the chance to make it there, however, because Dad’s home early from work or golfing or whatever he does during the day.

  I’m barely through the door, with my foot on the first step toward freedom and he beckons me. His voice carries from his office down the hall that’s tucked behind the massive staircase off to the right. You’d never know there was a hallway there unless it’s pointed out. The architect designed it, so it looks like a decorative bump out at first glance and not a gloomy hall.

  “Hey, Daddy.” I paste a smile on my face as I breeze through his doorway, attempting to keep the mood in the room light. I need to butter him up somehow before he finds out about my car and loses his temper. So, I do what any teenager would and stall. Not only that, but I also remain a good fifteen feet away from him. He’s thrown things in the past, so keeping distance in a potential disaster conversation with him is smart.

  “Come here.” His brows rise, his gaze watching me closely. He knows what I’m doing by standing back, and he’s not having it. This could turn bad in the blink of an eye.

  “Yes sir,” I respond and step farther into the room. I stop behind one of the tall chairs in front of his desk, though. I’m not stupid; I know to always try and keep something in front of me.

/>   “Closer,” he demands and moves his chair back a bit and points to the spot directly next to him.

  Swallowing my fear down, I draw on any courage I have remaining and pray for him to be in a decent mood. With a deep calming breath, I shuffle around the oversized chair, then move to the side of the desk and stop exactly on the spot where he’d pointed. I keep my eyes trained on the floor, silently pleading he doesn’t strike my face for my car being ruined.

  “I checked the cameras when I received the gate alert that your code was punched in. You’re home a bit early, hm?”

  My bottom lip trembles as I whisper a shaky, “Yes sir, I am.”

  “Look at me,” he demands. My hands clench into fists to keep them from quivering, and I hide them behind my back as I lift my eyes to meet his calculating gaze. “Whose car were you driving when you pulled in?”

  “Mine.”

  “Oh?” He clicks his tongue, and coolly asks, “Did I give you permission to buy another?”

  This is so bad. He’s far too calm that it has my stomach twisting with nausea. I hope I don’t puke on his carpet; it’ll only infuriate him further. “N-no, sir. It was a gift.”

  His fingers tap on his desk as his head tilts. He looks me over. “A gift...from whom…the de Lacharrieres?”

  I nod. “Someone, um, th-they scratched the Jaguar at school. I had just found out about it when they had the car towed and replaced.” Fear curdles in my stomach, my body tensing as I wait for him to explode at the news. It takes everything in me not to jump back to the chair and cower behind it for some sense of safety.

  My father’s chuckle has me shaking my head with shock. My mouth pops open as I gawk, not used to seeing him happy like this in the middle of the day. He chortles, reaching out to clasp my shoulder affectionately. Pride shines in his eyes as he boasts, “My girl! You’ve managed to snag the richest boy in school. He gives you a big diamond and asks to marry you, and now shortly after he’s already bought you a hundred-thousand-dollar sports car before you’ve exchanged vows or had a proper holiday!” He laughs again. “I was worried, but hell, you’ve made me proud.”