Page 32 of The Devil We Crave
“Eww!” she says, scandalized. “No?!”
Akira's frown deepens as I shake my head. “He’smycousin.”
Ronan nods. “Adopted, for bonus points.”
“I don’t think that makes a single fucking difference,” I mutter. “But in any case, no, he’s not Selene’s cousin.”
Selene smiles smugly at the other three and gives them all the middle finger.
“That said,” I growl, “I’m not cool with him waving his cock around. Consider him banned from future events here at the house.”
“Actually, he’s been banned from Kingsward Hall since last year for being a degenerate, like pretty much everyone in The Reckless.”
Fuck, why is he still here.
I plaster a fake smile on my face as I turn to Kyle Santoro.
“Thought you’d left already.”
One night of the former president of Para Bellum crashing a party he wasn’t invited to and staying over was bad enough. Two nights would test the limits of my patience. It being dinner time, I thought for sure he’d have fucked off by now.
Apparently, I’m not that lucky.
Kyle grins. “Well, I was going to. But then I was walking around…” He whistles wolfishly. “Bro, I'd forgotten just how fuckinghotthe talent is on this campus.”
Okay, it’s not like Lochie, Ronan, Drago, and I haven’t bullshitted about which girls are the hottest, who we’d sleep with, etc. I mean, c’mon, we’re only human.
But motherfuckers like Kyle take it to a whole other level. I mean the asshole kept alog bookwhen he was here, documenting all the girls he hooked up with, what he did with each of them, andtheir age, because—disgustingly—Kyle’s big thing was that he wouldn’t hook up with anyone after they turned twenty.
I mean, tell me you’re a fucking creep without telling me you’re a fucking creep.
It bothered Lochlan and I so much that last year we started implementing ID checks at the door of Para Bellum parties. Not to make sure everyone was over twenty-one for alcohol reasons—I mean, it’s fuckingcollege. There's going to be college kids drinking. No, it was to make sure everyone at our parties waseighteen.
Specifically, the female attendees. Just in case any freshmen with late birthdays were in attendance and Kyle started getting flirty with a fucking seventeen-year-old.
Let's just say, none of us lost any sleep when this fucker graduated.
Unfortunately, he didn’t reallyleave.
Kyle’s family might be mafia, but it became obvious halfway through his senior year that his entire impetus for coming to Knightsblood wasn’t to graduate into the mafia world.
It was to sourceclients.
Over this past summer, Kyle opened Santoro Equities, a fucking hedge fund. Andallhis new clients are either recent Knightsblood graduates or their families.
I have to say, that rubs me the wrong way. You come to Knightsblood for the connections and potential future alliances, not to get people to invest in your crypto fund. It feels…slimy.
Even more obnoxiously, although the main office is in Manhattan, Kyle opened a satellite one right here in Hawthorne Hollow. So he’srightdown the fucking street.
Apparently, that means he's still showing up uninvited to parties at his alma mater, and walking around Kingsward Hall like he owns the place, and acting like he’s the president of Para Bellum. I don’t think I have to elaborate on exactly how much that last one especially pisses me the fuck off.
“So Tsarenko wormed his way into the party?” Kyle grunts.
He’s not the only one,I resist saying.
Kyle scowls. “And was getting handsy with you in the hot tub, Selene?”
She shakes her head. “No. Honestly, he’s a pretty funny?—”
