Page 9 of Ruthless Dream

Trish will never know it, but my mom is known for being able to charm Italian dons. Yet, somehow she fails to make a dent in Trish.

My new roommate picks out a bed and climbs onto it without placing any bedding on it or opening her suitcase. Her headphones are pulled over her ears. She sits there, cross legged.

Lennie’s eyes widen slightly, the only facial expression she makes, since our mother trained us to never be rude.

Which is funny, considering she’s also making a slightly bewildered facial expression.

“This place is lovely,” Lennie murmurs. Seriously, she decides right now that she’s going to open herself up to the Akatov gift of sarcasm?

“Do you know when your other roommate might be in?” Mom asks. I can read the hope on her face. I mean, no way can my other roommate be as weird as Trish. Right?

I shake my long dark hair off my shoulders. Of course the people I meet here will be different. That’s the whole point of going off to college. I’ve done my time around snooty, private school kids thanks to my years at one of Manhattan’s most elite prep schools. Plus, I’ll admit my family is a lot when you first meet them.

“It’s nice that it’s got a fridge and microwave,” Lennie says. “We can run by Trader Joe’s after dinner. Get you some snacks.”

Something warm squirms in my chest. It takes me by surprise so hard that I’m not sure if I’m imagining the pricks near the corner of my eyes. Lennie is the sweetest person in the world. She always is, so I’m not sure why I’m being so sentimental about it now.

CHAPTER 2

Adeline

“Okay, explain it to me again,” Nat says over the phone.

I growl into the phone. Literally stomping the concrete pavement. A tourist glances back, eyes wide, differentiating themselves from all the city natives who don’t have time for temper tantrums during rush hour.

“She said my skirt was too short.”

“Was it?”

“Nat!”

The audio warbles, and something slams, probably Nat’s front door. I’ve only been trying to call her all afternoon. She finally called back with nothing but an ‘I was at work.’ I could sense the eye roll that went with it.

“Why are you even doing an internship?” Nat asks. “You’ve been at school for what, two weeks? It’s your first semester.”

“It’s a really good internship,” I defend, affronted that she of all people isn’t understanding. “It’ll look amazing on my resume.”

When I graduate in four years with a double major in business and marketing, I’m not going to be one of the hordes of students hitting the ground running. I’ll have already secured a good job, something that makes money. I’ll have an office. People will come to me for help. The Akatovs value a good work ethic, and I’m going to be the boss one day.

Dad knew of a marketing firm that always takes on students for internships. I jumped at the chance, knowing the earlier you start networking, the better.

Nat snorts on the other end of the line. “I can’t believe people think I’m the Type A daughter.”

“Because you are.” I frown at Jack, the guard that somehow still got assigned to me at NYU. He’s basically brushing my elbow, he’s walking so close to me. I don’t like it. I speed up, throwing him a look to back off as Nat chats in my ear.

“It’s your first semester at NYU! You should be getting to know the ropes of things. Meet people, make friends. You do not need to plan out your life five or ten years in advance, Ads.”

I’m still frowning. “I called you to help me feel better. Not to listen to a lecture.”

“Which you won’t listen to anyway.”

I huff under my breath.

My internship only takes up two afternoons during the week. Today was the second time I went. I got there early. Greeted everyone respectfully. Listened to my supervisor, who asked me to organize supplies. Boring, but fine, I’ll pay my dues.

Then this lady from HR came in and asked to speak to me.

My cheeks had never been so red like they were when she declared that I was dressed inappropriately.