Park Avenue Princes

I’m never one to turn down a bet. Especially not when it comes to retaliating against the dean for pulling a dick move before summer break. So when the dean’s golden child arrives at Astor for his freshman year, my fellow troublemakers throw down a wager I can’t resist. The target: the dean’s son, John Thomas Hawthorne, or “JT”. The bet: corruption in any way I choose. It should’ve been easy. With his mess of brown curls, pouty lips, and good-boy reputation, JT is the perfect revenge. And even better? He’s straight.

Showing up at a very indecent film shoot was an accident. I was a highly paid model. A professional. I didn’t get down and dirty for the cameras, but one look at the sex god needing a scene partner and I found myself reconsidering. After all, with a name like Sin, a body out of my rugged lumberjack fantasies, and a head full of dirty-blond hair I wanted to grab, he was almost impossible to resist. But I did—until fate put him back in my sights.

I’m hiding a secret. A big one. One that could shake the very foundation of the Upper East Side elite. My secret has dark blond hair and a smile that could charm the pants off anyone—including mine. Charismatic. Powerful. Unbelievably gorgeous, with a body I fantasize about—not that they will ever know. This secret is one I’ll take to the grave. Because, you see, I am in love with a Carrington, just not the one I’m dating. And what’s a bigger scandal than falling for your girlfriend’s dad?

Keep to myself. Don’t let anyone in. That’s how I like it. That’s usually how everyone else likes it too. My scowl keeps them all away—all except him. We may both be Park Avenue Princes, but we would never work. We don’t belong in each other’s real worlds. He’s too soft for mine; mine’s too harsh for his. But I can’t stop thinking about him. About those pale grey eyes that see right through me. The ballsy way he gives right back whatever I dish out. I like that. Respect it. Want more of it... Which is why when I find out his ex is bullying him, it makes me want to rip that bastard a new one.

Act like a player, dress like a player, be a player. In my opinion, these are fantastic life goals. I have no idea why my parents think I have no direction. I’m the fun one. Easygoing. A massive flirt. I get along with just about everyone, except ... Caleb Reeves. Also known as “the Bane of My Existence.” He’s everything I’m not: focused, effortlessly sexy but straight, and an ex-Park Avenue Prince. Or the “Pricks,” as he likes to call us now.

I’m so over college. It was supposed to be the time of our lives, a time of debauchery, but one by one, Cupid aimed his arrow and hit every one of my moron friends. Relationships. Could there be anything more soul-sucking and lame? To be tied to one person, and have to think about their ... feelings. Fine. Whatever. I’ll look for my fun elsewhere. Like that teacher’s assistant who keeps giving me a hard time. I wouldn’t mind shutting him up—with my mouth. I wonder if I could provoke him into it ...