Infamous Park Avenue Prince (Park Avenue Princes Book 1)

IF I’D KNOWN the classroom handjob would be the last time I’d get my hands on JT’s dick for a while, I might’ve taken things a little slower. Life had just been so damn busy over the last week that I’d barely even seen him. With my parents having stopped in Singapore after Amsterdam, they’d asked if I’d handle some of the smaller jobs at their office, so between classes and work, my priorities had been forced to shift. No hardcore partying, which was killing me—and East—to no end, though I’d managed a couple of nights at the hotel bar next door. My invites to JT had been declined, a damn shame, but he’d insisted it was only because he needed some time to settle into his new place and get ahead on his studies. Not because he was avoiding me for any reason.

I put that to the test, of course, by showing up at the library a time or two when JT was there studying. Sneaking him into one of the alcoves for a hot make-out session served as a reminder that I hadn’t forgotten him or those delicious lips and would be back for more once things had settled.

And with my father now back in the office, my patience had finally worn thin. Whether he liked it or not, JT was mine tonight. After all, the clock was ticking, and I had a bet to win.

I strolled out of the elevator and past my father’s secretary, smiling at him as he greeted me and made no move to stop me from going wherever I wanted. A perk of being the owner’s son—you almost never heard the word no.

After knocking on my father’s office door as a courtesy, I walked inside, carrying a to-go bag.

Jacques LaRue was a formidable presence in the world of luxury hotels, but the tall, lean man with tawny waves the same as mine had a carefree smile that he flashed as I entered.

“Weston,” he said, crossing the room to greet me by taking hold of my shoulders and kissing both cheeks.

“Welcome back.” I lifted the bag and grinned. “I brought dinner.”

“Oh, you sweet child of mine,” he said, taking the bag from me. With his hand on my shoulder—my father was a tactile human, always leading with touch—he walked us over to the circular table he used for meetings.

“I figured you deserved something good after an eighteen-hour flight.”

As he opened one of the containers of spicy rigatoni vodka and took in a deep inhale, he shook his head. “Carbone? Weston, you’re my favorite son. I’ll leave you everything in the will.”

I snorted out a laugh as I unloaded the rest of the containers. “I’m your only child. I have to be your favorite.”

“Still. You’re so good to me.” His French accent had faded a little over the years, but it always returned full force when he was excited about something. Carbone was his weakness, and with so many dishes he loved on the menu, I’d ordered several of them to tide him over a few days. The love for my father was mutual, so a place that didn’t offer to-go services made an exception for him.

His eyes grew wide as I pulled the top off the long container that held a whole branzino, and I smirked.

Favorite child indeed.

“Sit, sit,” he said, grabbing a bottle of wine off the wall. His display was impressive and also included expensive bottles of liquor given to him and my mom as gifts. Definitely one of the perks of the job.

I loaded my plate with a bit of everything as he opened the red wine and poured it into a Waterford Crystal decanter.

“So how was the trip?”

“Productive,” he said, laying a napkin across his lap. “Your mother decided to stay and visit a little longer with the couple that lived next door when you were young. You remember the Kims?”

“Not really.”

“Ah, well.” He waved his fork with a shrug and scooped up a bite of fish. The second it hit his mouth, he closed his eyes and moaned.

“Sounds a little indecent. Should I leave you two alone?”

“This. I would sell a hotel for this.”

“You might not want to let it slip you’re willing to let it go for a hundred-dollar branzino. I imagine you’d get a few offers.”

My father grinned and scooped up another forkful. “How is school? I hate I missed your first few weeks.”

I shrugged. “You haven’t missed anything. Astor is Astor.”

“You’ve been behaving?”

I waggled my brows, because he knew me better than that. Probably because I was practically his mini me, which should’ve scared him, but he found it amusing. “Define ‘behaving.’”

He chuckled and shook his head. “You know I enjoy your creativity and imagination. I just hope you haven’t started off the year with another suspension. Or worse?”

“That suspension was bullshit, and you know it.”

His brow arched. “Perhaps. Although if someone had broken into my office and overturned everything…” He shrugged. “Perhaps it was a justified punishment.”

“It was a prank. It’s not like we broke or stole anything.”

“Pranks are harmless, Weston. Maybe Dean Hawthorne didn’t find your sense of humor amusing.”

I speared my rigatoni with my fork. “That sounds like more of a her problem than a me problem.”

“It’s still breaking and entering on school property. Have you apologized to the dean yet?”

Had I apologized? Why the hell would I do that? She’d gone overboard in her punishment, wanting to use me as an example, as if to say, “The Park Avenue Princes aren’t above the rules.” It had been a simple prank, a bet the group of us had dared each other to do, but only I’d gotten busted for. That only happened because Gavin’s fucking foot had gotten stuck as he climbed out the window, and I’d done a good deed by helping his ass out instead of saving mine.

If it had been anyone else other than Gavin, I’d probably have thrown them all under the bus with me, but taking one for the team didn’t matter to me so much as long as I didn’t get expelled for it. Which the dean had probably wanted to do, but wouldn’t, considering who my parents were.

So…apologize? Absolutely not.

Get revenge on her by corrupting her golden child? That was my sort of apology.

My thoughts turned to JT, all of them wicked as hell, causing me to bite back a grin as I poured the decanted wine into my glass.

“Weston?” My father looked at me as if waiting for an answer, and that was when I remembered his question.

“Oh. No, I haven’t gotten around to that. I’ve been a little busy with my folks jetting off around the world,” I said pointedly.

“You should do it soon. We want your last two years to be good ones, end them on a high note.”

“Does that really matter out in the real world? It’s not like anyone is gonna look at my college transcripts and see the dean had it out for me.”

My father lifted his napkin, pressing it to his lips, and as he laid it back across his lap, he gave me that look. The one he gave when he wanted me to really listen to what he was saying.

“Life is all about relationships,” he said. “The good, the bad. You think the world is big, that you’ll never see someone again, but it’s just not true. You never know if your next deal could be affected by an argument you had over a taxi. Or if not making amends with a certain dean could harm a future negotiation. You must always be mindful, even about your silly pranks.”

I twisted my ring, the one that had belonged to my father’s father, and nodded. What he said made sense, but damn if I didn’t still feel annoyed every time I looked up at Dean Hawthorne’s office.

I’d think about it.

“All right, enough with the serious talk,” he said, pouring his own glass of wine. “Your mother wants to know if anyone has caught your eye lately?”

I practically choked on my wine. “My mother wants to know?”

“Okay, fine. Your mother and I want to know.”

“That’s what I thought.” I added a little branzino to my plate and took a bite as I thought over what to say.

Had I met someone? Well, yes. In a mastermind revenge sort of way. That shit wouldn’t fly with my father, though, no matter how laidback he was about most things. He wanted me to apologize to JT’s mom, for fuck’s sake, not make her son the subject of a bet.

I had an uneasy feeling in my gut and sat back in my chair to rest a hand on my stomach. My eyes were always bigger than my appetite. When would I ever learn?

“Not really,” I finally said. “Just the same old crew as always.”

“Ah. And still none of your friends…appeal to you?”

My burst of laughter echoed through the room. “No. Absolutely not.”

“Not even East?”

“Especially not East.”

“I understand,” my father said, a small grin on his lips. “A little high maintenance, that one.”

“I think that might be the understatement of the year.”

“Okay, so we find a low-maintenance handsome man.” He lifted a shoulder, like finding such a thing was no big deal. Then he pointed at his plate with his fork. “Must like Carbone. What else?”

I traced a finger along my twitching lips. “I don’t exactly have a list.”

“We’ll make one. Law of attraction. Build a man.” He snapped his fingers like he could summon a fairy godmother to take notes of our order. Just place the order and he will come. 

How the hell I hadn’t turned out to be a romantic with parents like mine, I had no clue.

“How about this instead? I have fun in college, get to know as many hot guys as I can. Maybe that’ll last for a few years after that. A decade or so, who knows. And if I decide having someone to warm my bed every night sounds like a good idea, and I meet a guy that keeps my interest, I’ll consider it.”

My father shook his head as he slid a forkful of fish past his lips. “That is not how love works, Weston.”

“Who said anything about love? You’re getting way ahead of yourself, old man.”

“Oof.” He grabbed his chest like I’d aimed an arrow there. “Old man. You’re no longer my favorite.”

“Aw, come on. I’ll always be your favorite.” I reached for his hand and gave it a squeeze.

“I suppose I’ll keep you,” he finally said. “I wouldn’t mind keeping a son-in-law, too.”

A COUPLE HOURS later, after we’d chatted some more and I went over some of the work I’d done in his absence, I headed down the walkway that connected the hotel to the condos. I wasn’t ready to go home for the night, though. Thinking about JT over dinner had only made me impatient to see him again, and not for a five-minute sneak-away between classes.

I pulled my cell out of my pocket and shot off a text.

I want to see you.

GOLDEN BOY:

Straight to the point. Hello to you too.

You should know by now I’m anything but straight… And hi 😉

GOLDEN BOY:

Hi. 🙂 You’ve made that clear, promise.

I dunno. Sounds like you need a reminder.

GOLDEN BOY:

Do I?

You do. Care to join me?

I’d send my driver his way in a hot minute if he said yes. When he said yes.

GOLDEN BOY:

Not really in the mood for the club scene tonight.

Then you can come to my place.

JT seemed to write and erase his message a few times.

GOLDEN BOY:

You do know it’s almost curfew.

When the hell had that ever stopped me before? Not even once.

I rubbed my jaw as I debated the options. If JT didn’t want to go out, that meant he should be fine with staying in…

I’ll come to you, then.

GOLDEN BOY:

You want to hang out at my dorm?

No, I want to hang out with you. And if that’s where you are, that’s where I’ll be.

GOLDEN BOY:

If you can manage to sneak inside, I’ll let you into my room. Deal?

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I slowly smiled. JT really should know by now not to underestimate me. If I could sneak him out multiple times, I wouldn’t have a problem getting in. This wasn’t even a challenge.

Deal. Keep an ear out, Golden Boy.