Sweet Deceit (Privilege 4)

“I grew up just outside Baton Rouge,” Jasper replied, deepening his southern drawl. “Mama’s family money comes from cotton, but Daddy’s in the real estate biz. Although as far as I can tell he hasn’t worked a day in his life. Just lived off the proceeds from investments made by his father’s father.”

“So what are you going to do?” Ariana asked. “Are you interested in real estate?”

Jasper pulled a face. “How could anyone be interested in real estate?” he said, faking a snore. He t

ugged at a pulled yarn in the throw rug beneath them. “No, I think I’ll follow in my father’s footsteps and do nothing.”

Ariana laughed. “Right.”

Jasper moved his hands to his lap where he folded them together. “Oh, I’m totally serious.”

Ariana’s brow knit. “What? No. How can you just aspire to do nothing?”

“Why not?” Jasper asked, lifting his shoulders. “The men and women of this country toil hard day and night to sock away enough cash so that they will one day, when they’re old and gray, be able to retire and do nothing. I’d rather do nothing now. When I’m young. When I can really appreciate the blessing of being able to do nothing.”

Ariana blinked a few times, trying to process this. She had never known anyone so unambitious in her life. All of her friends came from money, but they all aspired to something. Even if it was Kiran’s dream to be a supermodel or Portia Ahronian’s wish to marry an En glish royal. Everyone had to have something to look forward to. She looked at Jasper and saw what might have been a teasing glint in his eyes. Maybe he wasn’t serious. Or maybe he was just enjoying the fact that his life’s plan was throwing her.

“Well, congratulations. You’re officially the lamest person I’ve ever met,” Ariana said, only half-joking.

“I’m going to take that as a compliment,” Jasper replied.

Suddenly, the door was flung open and in walked two guys in black hoods and ski masks. Ariana gasped.

“Oh, look,” one of the intruders said. “Two for the price of one!”

Then he stepped forward and dropped a black bag over Ariana’s head.

“Told you,” Jasper said, his voice muffled. “Lulling us into a sense of security.”

Ariana laughed through her hood.

“Shut it, plebe,” the second attacker barked. “ To the Tombs!”

Biting her tongue to keep from laughing, Ariana allowed herself to be manhandled out of the room.

DIFFICULT QUESTIONS

“Who are you?”

Ariana stared back at the masked and hooded Stone and Graver in front of her and pressed her lips together as a giggle threatened to escape. He was trying to be menacing, and yes, she was sweating like a pig under the hot interrogation lamps swinging overhead. And yes, the eyes of two dozen or more Stone and Grave members staring back at her from under their masks were making her dizzy. Not to mention the fact that her skin was on fire due to the torturously rough burlap bag she wore over her bare, perspiring skin. The problem was the question at hand. Her interrogator had no idea how difficult it was to answer.

She wasn’t Ariana Osgood. Not anymore. But she wasn’t exactly Briana Leigh Covington either. She wasn’t the girl who grew up in Texas as an oil billionairess. She wasn’t the girl whose mother died a long, slow death from cancer, and whose father was killed soon afterward. She wasn’t the girl who had been drowned in Lake Page as collateral damage in a plan gone slightly awry.

Nor was she the girl who had drowned Briana Leigh. Not really. Yes, technically, the hands that had held Briana Leigh down under the water were the same ones that were now clenching the rope belt around her waist, but she was someone entirely different now. Someone who was ever evolving. The person who stood here now might be an entirely different person tomorrow.

“Who are you?!” the interrogator shouted again, getting right up in her face, so close she could hear him panting beneath his gruesome mask.

Next to her, Kaitlynn flinched and everyone in the Tombs held their breath. For a long moment, no one moved. A sudden and horrifying thought occurred to Ariana. Did they know? Was it possible that they had looked into Briana Leigh’s background? Found pictures of her somehow? Realized that the Briana Leigh who had partied on South Padre Island last spring break was not the same person who was attending classes at Atherton-Pryce?

“Why do you deserve to be in Stone and Grave?” the masked figure demanded.

Ariana let out her breath. This was a much easier question to answer.

“Because I’m strong,” she said calmly, her voice clear as day. “I’m a survivor.”

The interrogator paused. Ariana liked to think he was surprised by her answer. Finally he let out a snort and stepped back.

“Oh, really? And what makes you such a survivor?”