That’s my freaking dream car and it’s currently gliding toward me. Maybe I’ve died and gone to heaven because there’s no way in hell that this car would be coming at me like this. It’s slow and torturous and I don’t even give a shit that it’s most likely Colton Carrington in the driver’s seat.
I stare, and I stare good because I’m bound to fuck this thing up for me and mom sooner or later and I’ll be damned if I leave this place without taking in every single inch of this car. I wonder how quickly Colton will kill me if I lick it as he drives past?
The Veneno inches past me so close that I could probably jump on the hood and hitch a ride to school if I was stupid enough to pull a stunt like that.
I ball my hands into fists trying to control the urge to touch it. I’ll slip into the garage tonight and have a proper look while Colton isn’t around. Maybe I’ll even slip into the driver’s seat and rub one out just to add salt to the wound. Okay … maybe that’s taking the obsession just a little too far.
When the Lamborghini comes to a stop and the window drops down, my back straightens. I should have known the dickhead wouldn’t wait until school started to begin his torture.
His hazel eyes instantly meet mine and I thank all the heavens above that I’ve at least had a few sips of coffee to get me through this. Colton’s heavy gaze drops and I watch as he takes in my uniform with a sick smirk.
What’s his deal? He’s acting as though he’s never seen a chick in uniform. Hell, it’s the same fucking uniform that he’s wearing. Minus the skirt of course.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
My brows furrow and my eyes slice toward the front gates. “Um … what does it look like I’m doing? The bus is going to be here any minute.”
“Bus? What fucking bus?”
Is this guy daft? “The bus to school, dickhead. Harrison told my mom that it comes around this time every morning.”
Colton laughs, his lips pulling up in amusement. “Look around you, Jade. Do you really think this town uses public transport? Most of the kids I know would rather die than be seen on a fucking bus. Harrison was fucking with you. I haven’t seen a bus around here for … actually, never.”
“The fuck?” I screech, my jaw clenching as I picture Harrison back at the house peering through the window and watching me make a fool of myself.
“Shocker. You must have pissed him off.” I start walking again and groan as his car inches forward, keeping up with me. “Get in.”
My head swivels around to look at him. Is he insane? Surely he must remember the day we had yesterday. You know, the part where he called me trash and I called him on his bullshit. “You’re fucking kidding me, right?” I laugh, imagining what thrilling conversation we would have while being stuck in a confined space together. Though, conversation is probably taking it a little too far. More like throwing insults back and forth.
“Get in the fucking car, Jade.”
I shake my head. “So you can tell me I’m trash a little more? No thanks, I’ll pass.”
“It’s a twenty-minute walk. You’re going to miss attendance.”
“What do you care?”
“I don’t,” he scoffs. “You can go back to the good for nothing shithole you came from for all I care, but if you don’t show up at school on time, it’s on my ass.”
I stop walking and his car comes to a stop. I narrow my eyes at him as it all becomes clear. “Daddy put you on babysitting duty.”
“Trust me, there’s a big fucking difference between babysitting and making sure the help doesn’t embarrass the Carrington name. Now get the fuck in my car before I make you.”
I throw my hands up and groan before finally deciding he’s right. Not about embarrassing his precious family reputation but about being late for the first day. It’s not a good look, and mom will kill me if she learns I was late.
I stalk around to the passenger side and do my best not to drool over his car. It’s always been my dream car, a dream that will never come true, but now knowing that this douchebag owns one, it’s suddenly less appealing. That is until the beautiful scissor door pops open and raises high above my head.
Holy fuck.
My hands shake. I’m about to sit in a 4.5 million dollar car. Only eight of these were put into production, and there’s one right here in front of my eyes.
Are my shoes clean? Did I sit in anything? Should I throw my coffee away?
Come to think of it, what kind of psychopath allows their eighteen-year-old son to drive such an expensive car? I’m not surprised that he owns it, but surely it would be sitting up in some sort of fancy showroom with laser beams protecting it. I guess when you have the kind of money these guys have, not even a rare car is enough for them to use restraint.