Page 29 of Devious Lies (Cruel Crown)
Whereas I’d ditched Reed for Clifton University, Basil and just about every other filthy rich Eastridger had followed him to Duke.
They’d been together since and were two seconds away from getting married and having perfectly behaved, blonde-haired, blue-eyed babies. Not the chaotic, wild, black-haired, heterochromia-eyed demon children I’d probably give birth to.
“She says you’d be a fool not to take a job with Nash.”
Another lie from Reed.
When had we started lying to each other so much?
“No, she didn’t.”
If there was anyone Basil Berkshire wanted more than Reed, it was Nash. Though he wasn’t as wealthy as us—as blue-blooded, as pedigreed, as groomed for nine-figure trust funds—he was always above us in some intangible way no one could explain but everyone gravitated toward.
And now, Nash Prescott was filthy rich. No one had an explanation for how it had happened, but it didn’t surprise anyone either.
“Okay, she didn’t,” Reed admitted, “but I think you should work for Prescott Hotels. At the very least, maybe take one of their design internships for new graduates. You’d be designing a hotel, not clothes, but at least it’s kind of close? Maybe? I don’t know. Either way, it’s a good, paying job. Nash doesn’t even need to know if you think it’s awkward. I can get Delilah to set it up for you. She owes me one.”
Beggars can’t be choosers.
Beggars can’t be choosers.
Beggars can’t be choosers.
I repeated the mantra in my head. Let’s be real, I was a fucking beggar. Probably would be for the rest of my life.
“Delilah?” The largest hole in the blanket widened as I toyed with the loose threads.
“The head of his legal department and his best friend, though he’d deny it, the cranky asshole. They’re opening a new hotel in Haling Cove. It’s in North Carolina, but it’s far enough away from Eastridge that…” Reed’s voice trailed off, but I got his point.
“I’ll think about it,” I relented before ending the call about the same time another email pinged on my phone. This time reminding me of a two-thousand-dollar payment I had to make.
Fuck.
I hit redial immediately.
“Yes?”
I ignored Reed’s amused tone and Basil’s whispers. “Set it up, please.”
I swear, I could be naked and on display in the Metropolitan Museum, and my heart would beat slower than it was beating now.
“Just do it, please,” I added when I sensed he’d give me shit for changing my mind so quickly.
“Under Emery Rhodes?”
Rhodes was my grandmama’s maiden name. I’d been using it since I had left Eastridge. Winthrops weren’t exactly popular in this neck of the woods, even as far as Alabama, but at least with my hair back to its natural black, I survived most of my undergrad with no one recognizing me.
That last month, though… I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. Not even Basil fucking Berkshire.
I chewed on another strand of hair, wondering how to ask this without sounding ridiculous. I spit it out, “Please, don’t tell Nash.”
“Keep a secret from my brother? Easily.”
No hesitation.
Nothing.
Reed liked people. Whereas I had gone full-on hermit in college, Reed joined a frat, went to parties, and made more friends than Facebook allowed. But for the past seven years, he liked everyone except his brother.
