Chapter 1
Sophia
This had to be one of the happiest days of my life – hands down.
Nothing could bring me down today.
As the plane touched down on the runway, I took a peek out of the window and grinned so wide it felt like my mouth was going to split my face in two pieces. Just outside of the plane was my first taste of freedom and I couldn’t be more excited. It wasn’t going to be easy, this I knew. I was accustomed to living in the lap of luxury in a house full of servants and guards around the clock. All I needed to do was hit a button and I’d have people at my feet to do my bidding within a few minutes.
But it was also a jail. One big, luxurious jail.
My new life was going to be different. I’d even insisted that I fly to the States in a regular airplane, in the economy section instead of using my father’s private jet. Despite my father saying he wasn’t going to help me, he’d offered the jet. But I refused. I wanted everything about this experience to be authentic. I couldn’t prove to him or anyone else that I was strong and could make it on my own if I accepted handouts straight out of the gate.
However, the man beside me reeked of alcohol and beef jerky and was snoring so loudly that even my earphones weren’t blocking out the sound, so I was reconsidering my intelligence in making that decision. But this all came part and parcel with what I was trying to accomplish – freedom and independence from a life of being sheltered and controlled.
Half an hour later I was grabbing my baggage and making my way outside in search of a taxi, which wasn’t hard to find. There was a huge line-up and I groaned inwardly, the heels I was wearing were making the long wait a challenge to my feet. Lines and waiting, it was something I’d need to get used to.
Twenty minutes later, I was in a cab, the balls of my feet screaming at me for not wearing sensible shoes. Was I that out of touch with the real world? A part of me felt ashamed despite the fact that I hadn’t had a choice in the matter. Pietro Marinotti controlled everything and everyone with an iron fist – including his family. My mother enjoyed being royalty and didn’t seem to mind the control being exerted over her in exchange for the perks. But I wasn’t my mother, if I were to be honest with myself, I was more like my father than my mother, but I refused to admit it to anyone.
“Here we are, ma’am.” I looked up from my mobile phone and out the window to see the large building before us with the name Carrington Hall posted over the doorway. Looking back down at my phone, I confirmed that Carrington Hall was where I was supposed to go to get my room assignment and class schedule.
“Well, here goes nothing,” I murmured under my breath, opening the door, and stepping out of the vehicle.
Entering the building, I felt a sense of excitement and independence that I hadn’t felt once in my entire life. I kept looking over my shoulders expecting to see one of my father’s guards over my shoulder. But they weren’t – I was completely alone, well aside from the thousands of other students rushing up and down the hallways.
After a moment of searching, I finally found the office of the register and was confronted by another obscene line, straight out the door of the office and down the hallway. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” I grumbled under my breath as I got in line behind everyone else.
“You must be new.” The short, thin guy in front of me commented.
Looking straight at him, I frowned. “Why do you say that?”
“Because you seemed surprised the line is long.” He looked down at my aching feet. “And you’re wearing heels. Don’t get me wrong, your legs look amazing in them, but you’ll realize really quickly that heels aren’t practical on campus.”
Following his gaze, I grimaced. “Fine, easy enough to fix.” Stepping out of them and onto the cool tiled floor, I grabbed them from the floor, unzipped my carry-on and stuffed them inside. Wiggling my toes on the cool tile, my feet immediately felt better and I released a sigh of relief.
We moved up a few feet.
“You’ve got a sexy accent. Where are you from?”
Looking up at him again, I briefly gave him a once-over. He was handsome enough with his shaggy blonde hair and blue eyes. I considered lying but changed my mind. Wouldn’t matter. No one would really know who I was. Just because my family was known in Italy, doesn’t mean they’d have a clue who I was here.
“I’m from Italy. Just arrived, came straight here from the airport.”
“Well,” his eyes scanned me, doing a slow up and down that no man would dare to do back home. “It’s nice to meet you.” He extended his hand to me. “I’m Desmond.”
With a moment’s hesitation, I accepted his hand. “Sophia.”
We moved up a few more feet.
“Sophia. That’s a beautiful name… Beautiful name. Sexy accent. For averysexy woman. I’m regretting not visiting Italy yet.”
Tilting my head to the side, I eyed him a moment. “Is that some sort of pick-up line here?”
Chuckling, he shrugged. “I guess. I can do better next time.”
I wasn’t sure if I wanted him to. He seemed just a little too…young. I was sure he was older than me, but where I came from men were smoother and not so cringeworthy when they complimented you. Fuck, maybe I just had unresolved daddy issues, who really knew.
He looked me up and down once more. “Are you pledging the sorority?”