Princess (American Princess #1)(2)
Author: Courtney Cole

As she passed the sparkling glass wall of windows that framed their courtyard, she spotted her mother lounging on the stone-tiled veranda, holding an iced lemon tea in her hand and laughing wildly at something her new tennis instructor had apparently said.  Sydney nibbled on her cookie as she observed them for a minute.

The guy couldn’t be more than twenty years old and was hanging over Jillian Ross’ shoulder, murmuring softly into her ear and rubbing her arms lightly as he spoke.  Sydney rolled her eyes in disgust.  Pathetic.  As intimate as they appeared, her mother might as well sit in the guy’s lap.  Why her dad put up with that kind of behavior, Sydney didn’t know.  But then, in order for it to upset him, he would have to be home long enough to witness it.  And he never was.

The two of them made her sick to her stomach, making it impossible to continue watching them if she wanted to keep the cookie that she had just eaten down in her stomach where it belonged.  She pulled open the heavy glass doors and stuck her head out.

“Mom? I’m going over to Christian’s. I’ll be back later.”

Her mother barely spared her a glance.

“That’s fine, Sydney. Let Ben know you won’t be here for dinner.”

And that was it.  Jillian flipped her blonde hair over her shoulder and returned her attention to the fawning boy.  He was a new one.  Sydney didn’t even know his name.  But she did know that his white shorts were indecently short and tight.  She could easily see the bulgy outline of his junk.

And he was so, so obviously flirting with her mother.  But then again,  her mother was eating it up so it was working out nicely for him.  She shook her head. She shouldn’t have worried that her mother would notice her lack of clothing.

If she was honest, she would have to admit that Jillian rarely noticed her at all, except for times that she thought Sydney was doing something unseemly for a girl in her position.  During those incidents, Jillian focused in on her with razor-sharp precision and an even sharper tongue. Most of their mother-daughter interactions were focused on ensuring that Sydney dressed correctly, spoke correctly and behaved correctly.  At every minute of any given day.  It was exhausting.

Sydney stepped into the garage and stared down the line of cars.  Her father’s black Cadillac was gone, so he was at the office.  No surprise there.  He practically lived at his high-rise downtown Chicago office.  She walked past his empty slot and her mother’s white Jag to stand next to her own car- a gleaming silver graduation gift.  She had gotten the little Mercedes convertible two weeks ago and she had finally mastered the manual transmission, making her feel like an automotive queen.

Today she felt like a liberated automotive queen as she idled at red lights knowing full well that she was na**d under her coat.  It was surprisingly exhilarating and she slipped off her shoes so that she could drive barefoot. Even better!  Enjoying the feel of her na**d legs resting against the butter-soft leather of her seat, she smiled broadly at the guy in the next car, before gunning her engine when the light turned green. She smoothly cut him off so that she could make her exit.

As a result of her trademark aggressive driving, it only took her twenty minutes today to weave through Highland Park, just as she had promised. The sleek little car wound through the traffic effortlessly, purring like a jungle cat.  Lucky for her, Christian lived in Highland Park as well.  Chicago traffic was perpetually congested and would have taken much longer.

Christian opened the front doors just as she pulled into his drive and stood waiting for her on the top step.  Sydney studied his handsome features as she got out and walked toward him, her heart thudding lightly with anticipation. As her pulse quickened, she fervently hoped that she seemed calm and cool, but she doubted that was the case. 

She had a secret.

Deep down, no matter how perfectly her manicure and highlights were done or how well she filled out an outfit, she always felt a little… insufficient.  She could look in the mirror and see that she was pretty and many might even say beautiful. But it was as though she couldn’t quite get her heart to understand that she was good enough.  She didn’t know why and she would never be able to explain it to anyone, so she didn’t try.  She could just hear the “poor little rich girl” jokes that would result in that kind of conversation.

Christian, on the other hand, certainly didn’t suffer from inadequacy issues.  With his black slacks and slate gray v-neck, he was impeccably sleek and sophisticated today, which was usually the case.  And he was always unflustered.

He was outrageously handsome and outlandishly cocky, two things that she loved about him.  His dark hair was carefully tousled just-so and the smile he wore was perfect. His dark blue eyes were frozen on her, as if drawing her to him.  When she got close enough, he reached for her, grabbing the end of the belt to her coat.

“Chris- not on the porch!” she giggled and slapped his hand away.

Undeterred, he laughed carelessly and scooped her up in his strong arms, ignoring her half-hearted protests.  As the half-back on their football team, he spent quite a lot of time working out. The results were apparent.  He was built like a lean brick house and would be playing ball for Princeton next year as a Legacy student.        As he effortlessly carried her up the grand staircase to his room, he purposely moved one of his hands farther up on her leg and then farther still. She knew he was checking for clothing.  She laughed and clutched his back, knowing what was to come as his hand kept moving.  Her heart began thudding loudly again and she closed her eyes as Christian kicked the bedroom door closed behind them.

They didn’t emerge for two hours, only coming out for food.  Bursting out of the bedroom when the doorbell rang, they laughed and shoved each other playfully, racing each other to get to the pizza first.  They had used an abundance of calories and Sydney’s stomach was growling.

Christian beat her, of course. He made it down the long stairway in three seconds flat. He threw the front door open, paid for the pizza and they collapsed on the floor in the foyer with the pizza box, not even bothering to get plates from the kitchen.

Sydney grinned over a slice of pizza, catching the dripping cheese with her tongue.

“You’re right.  We could never do this at my house. My mom would have a stroke.”

Holding a finger up in the air, she appeared to get into character for a performance.  Christian watched in amusement as she stuck her nose into the air, pushed her eyebrows into her hairline and mimicked her mother’s haughty voice.