Lust (The Elite Seven #1)(16)

With that, a soft knock sounds at the door and she gets to her feet.

“Right on time.”

Walking around her desk, she goes to the door, and I follow suit.

Blonde curls enter the room, and I bite the inside of my cheek to stop from grinning.

Chastity’s eyes enlarge before narrowing on me.

“This is Chastity. Chastity, Rhett Masters,” she introduces.

I hold my hand out, but she doesn’t take it. “We’ve met,” she informs Lillian.

“Oh…well, that’s a great start. I have an appointment, so enjoy your day.” Lillian’s eyes cut to a tall, dark haired guy who looks a little out of place in his surroundings. His appearance and style harder, more rogue than rich like the rest of the students on campus. His eyes clash with mine briefly before, without a word or instruction, he gets up and disappears into Lillian’s office.

Following Chastity into the corridor, I hold my hands up once more in surrender.

“I’ve clearly made the wrong impression, and I think it’s unfair of you to judge me on something I did in the past with someone I don’t even remember.”

Her face screws into a hateful scowl, and she shocks me into silence when she raises her hand and flicks the tip of my nose. “You’re a jerk.”

I’m still standing there seconds later watching her ass sashay up the corridor without me.

Some mentor she is.





God’s casual remark about no one attending class freshman week doesn’t appear to be the case.

My first class is packed. The door slams behind me as I enter, bringing all eyes to me. The professor stops talking and watches me as I make a spectacle of myself, trying to dodge legs and bags to get one of the only available seats right in the center of the room.

Perfect.

When I finally do plant my ass in the seat, the professor folds his arms and paces the front of the room.

“First thing I want you to know, you’re not in high school anymore. No tardy slips or toilet passes. I expect you to be independent, responsible, and punctual.”

His eyes seek me out, and he glares right at me when he says, “Nothing makes a bad impression like strolling in late.”

He then looks around at the other students and smiles. “It also makes finding a seat a nightmare.”

Laughs ring out, mocking me, and I offer him a tight smile as I get out my laptop and nod.

Understood. First lesson learned. Check.

A light flicks on a white board, then a list appears with titles of books we’re going to need to read for this semester.

He must like the sound of his own voice because he spends the next hour talking about how he ended up a professor here. By the time we’re leaving the classroom, I’ve already made a pact with myself to arrive early to every class I have from here on out.

The day passes without any run-ins with the lovely Chastity or any whispers about The Elite. Not that I expected them to be advertising themselves.

Checking my cell and ignoring all the texts apart from God’s, I dial his number. He answers on the third ring, and by the sound of the bad line, I know he’s driving.

“Where’ve you been?”

“The gym. I’m leaving, though. Meet me at Dad’s.”

He ends the call, giving me no fucking choice.




When I pull up to God’s, the entrance gate is open, which usually means one thing: God’s parents are out of town and he’s planning to throw a party. He lives in town, but likes to throw parties at his parents’ house since it’s so fucking huge. Plus, when it’s all over, he makes the staff clean up.

The long, winding driveway bordered by large, towering oak trees takes at least ten seconds to drive up before the house even comes into view. My parents are wealthy, but God’s are stupid rich—own their own plane rich—and God is their only child. Raised by a money hungry power couple, and because of that, God loved everything in excess.

He has a garage full of cars most people couldn’t even dream of owning in their lifetime, and he’s only eighteen and has yet to even make his mark in the business world.

Their house is a plantation home built in the 1700s, with balconies for each of the sixteen bedrooms, multiple garages, pool houses, and acres of land.

Pulling my car up next to his Ferrari, I jump out and bound up the stairs to his front door, which is open. I call out his name, and my voice echoes, bouncing off the oak wood floors and down the corridor. A few beats later, a shuffling of feet come toward me in the shape of Wendy, the Goddard’s wonderful, loyal, housekeeper.

Many times, this woman has kept food in my belly and clean clothes on my back when I’d push my luck at home and needed to crash here throughout the years.

“Rhett, my darling boy, it’s so good to see you. You’re looking too skinny, let me feed you,” she says in a comforting tone that reminds me of my late grandmother.

“How are you, Wendy? I haven’t seen you at any parties lately,” I tease, and she rewards me with a tap to my arms and an amused smile.

Guiding me through the house and into the kitchen, she gestures for me to take a seat at the breakfast bar.

“Where’s God?” I ask, accepting the glass of fresh lemonade.

“He’s taking a shower. He came back all covered in this dirt that will never come out of his clothes.” She rolls her eyes, waving a frustrated hand between unloading the fridge with the makings of a sandwich.