Page 5 of Ruthless Prince

I frowned, trying to remember where it was. My family had moved around a lot in the last few years, so it was hard to recall where a lot of my old things had endedup.

“I’m not sure where it is,” I said. “Probably in storagesomewhere.”

“God, you used to ride that thing every day,” Marissa said, red lips stretching with amusement. “I was always so jealous, because my parents wouldn’t let me getone.”

“Same. Why did you stop riding it?” Kateasked.

I rubbed the back of my head as I pondered her question. “I can’t remember exactly why,” I said. “But I guess it could’ve been because of the monothing.”

Simone groaned. “Ugh. I remember that now. Half the school caught it,” she said. She tilted her head to the side. “You gotreally sick from it, didn’t you? You were in the hospital forages.”

“Yeah. I think I was out for nearly two months.” I shuddered at the awful memory. “Anyway, after that, I guess I was just out of practice with the Vespa, so I stopped usingit.”

“Well, if you ever get back into it, I think you should get a pale pink one like the one I saw earlier. It wasadorable.”

I snickered. “Can you imagine me being allowed to ride a scooter these days? I’m not even allowed out of the house without a full securitydetail.”

“That’s true. I guess being the president’s daughter isn’t all it’s cracked up to be,” she said, twisting her lips. “If someone told me I wasn’t allowed to drive my Porsche anymore, I’d slap them right in theface.”

I laughed along with the others. Then I spied a familiar face across the room. “I’ll be back later, okay?” I said, excusing myself from thegroup.

I headed over to the far edge of the East Room, where Rowan Harris was standing awkwardly by a marble fireplace. We’d known each other since we were quite young, because our parents wereacquaintances.

I would’ve invited my friends to join me over here, but they didn’t like Rowan and were often downright rude to him. With his skinny frame, prematurely-balding head, and shy, clumsy nature, he didn’t fit in with their idea of guys who were worth speakingto.

I liked him, though. He was awkward sometimes and a little too obsessed with conspiracy theories—last time I saw him, he tried to convince me the government was being controlled by some sort of lizard shapeshifter—but he was a genuinely nice human being. In the social circles I ran in, people like that were surprisingly hard to comeby.

“Hey,” I said, giving him a brief peck on the cheek. “I haven’t seen you in awhile.”

Rowan flashed me a lopsided smile. “I know. I haven’t been out in ages, but my parents convinced me to come tonight, so here I am, regretting every minute ofit.”

“Don’t worry, you’re not the only one who doesn’t like these things,” I said, raising one eyebrow. “I always worry that I’m going to say the wrong thing to someone important and embarrass Mom. I have actual nightmares about itsometimes.”

“I get it.” Rowan nodded slowly. “I suppose you’re forced to attend every event,though.”

“Yup.” I rolled my eyes. “Anyway, how are you doing with the NSA? Are you still doing all that genius computer whiz stuff forthem?”

He let out an embarrassed chuckle. “I wouldn’t call myself agenius.”

“Everyone elsewould.”

“Well, thanks. Work is fine, I suppose.” He rubbed one ear. “That reminds me. You’ll never guess who I see at Fort Meadesometimes.”

My forehead wrinkled. “Who?”

“Your best buddy, Logan Thorne.” Rowan leaned closer and lowered his voice. “Apparently he works for some sort of private subcontractor group now. Something to do with surveillance analysis. They come into the NSA every so often to talk to myboss.”

I wrinkled my nose. “Really? I assumed he’d end up working at one of his family’sbusinesses.”

“Metoo.”

I shuddered. “The thought of him having access to anything on the NSA’s database makes me feel gross. Imagine him reading all yourtexts.”

Rowan laughed. “I doubt he does that. Probably could, though,” he said. He hesitated for a second. “I’m not sure what he actually does for the company he works for. Iamsure that his dad got him the job,though.”

I let out an amused snort. “No shit. He could be found with fifteen bloodied women chained up in his basement, and his parents could still fix his rep and buy his way into any job hewanted.”

My remark was tongue-in-cheek, but to be honest, it was probably true. Logan came from one of the world’s wealthiest families. He was the son of Charles ‘Chuck’ Thorne and Elizabeth Hale, who were both incredibly rich and powerful. Their respective families had been influencing the economy and national politics for over acentury.