Pretty Vile: A friends-enemies-lovers second chance college romance (The Ruthless Boys of Ridgeway Book 2) by R.A. Smyth

Author:R.A. Smyth [Smyth, R.A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-02-16T18:30:00+00:00

My head is all over the place as I step into the brownstone and make my way up to my bedroom. The rest of my visit was uneventful. Grandfather mostly talked about himself, his work before he retired, and the massive wealth he has acquired. Dotted in amongst all that were questions about me—how I was enjoying Ridgeway, what my plans were after graduation. He definitely wasn’t impressed when I didn’t spout off some in-depth five-year plan that ended with me being made partner in a law firm, building my own investment management empire, or becoming CEO of some Fortune 500 company.

Yeah, I’m honestly surprised my ‘I haven’t thought that far ahead’ answer didn’t give him heart palpitations based on his affronted expression.

Throughout the whole afternoon, he never once mentioned the King’s Elite, despite the fact it was a hurdle I had to overcome in order to meet him. Another topic that seemed to be off-limits was my father. Any time I tried to ask him what happened twenty-odd years ago that resulted in my father being kicked out of the family and me along with him, he would change the topic.

Even though I’m not sure he was terribly impressed with me, he invited me back for lunch next Sunday to meet the rest of the family. I said yes because, well, what else was I supposed to say? So far, I haven’t gotten the warm and fuzzies, or the this is where I belong vibe. Although, perhaps next weekend will yield better results.

All thoughts of my grandfather are pushed aside as I walk into my bedroom and pull up short.

"What are you doing in here?" I ask, narrowing my eyes on Emilia as she spins to face me.

My eyes drop to the white envelope in her hands, my nostrils flaring.

Goddammit. I lifted the damn letter out after I put Emilia in her bed last night and forgot to put it away. I don’t even know why I held on to it all these years. I should have tossed it in the trash the second I found it on my bedroom floor at Pac. Instead, I’ve carried it around just to torment myself, never actually reading what is written inside.

With pursed lips, I snap my gaze up to her face. Hurt flashes in her eyes.

“You never even opened it,” she accuses, that same hurt bleeding into her tone.

"I told you, I didn’t need to hear—or read—your apologies."

She holds the envelope out toward me. "Read it."

“No,” I growl, not taking it from her outstretched hand.

She glowers at me for a long moment, the two of us in a silent standoff. Eventually, she huffs out a frustrated breath and lowers her arm.

"Maybe you didn’t need my apologies then, but I think you need them now, because you’re the only one still holding onto the past." Hesitantly, she steps toward me, her eyes searching mine—although for what, I’m not sure. Her face scrunches, pain and heartache lining the crevices. "It physically pains me to see how much I hurt you.

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