The Devil You Know (18 page)

‘I do not deny that,’ Pose said.

Jacob shrugged. ‘Well, then.’

‘I challenge the causation you are trying to establish,’. Rose went on. ‘You assert that this skill was the result of the privations of her childhood, and all the loyal protestations she had to make to her father and siblings in order to keep her head on her neck. However, it seems more likely that this skill was simply innate. If she’d felt

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hunted and threatened all her life, she would not have been prancing around with married men - her inferiors, men who could only hurt her political alms. Nor would she have authorised pirate raids on Spain …’

‘Very interesting.’ Bartlett’s measured tones cut her off. ‘I see you

two could engage in debate all night. Clearly we have added another valuable member to our group,’ he inclined his head slightly towards Rose, ‘especially as Miss Fiorello was not aware of the subject of tonight’s discussion. Wouldn’t you agree, Mr Rothstein?’

Jacob Rothstein examined his rival and grinned very slightly,

which I

‘Yes, I would,’ he said softly.

‘For next week, we will discuss Renaissance literature. Miss

Watson, you will speak on Dante. I would like the rest of you to study the topic in pairs and each pair will speak briefly after Miss Watson. Mr Crawford and Mr Blake; Mr Javits and Mr Young; Mr Oliver and Mr Jones; and Miss Fiorello and Mr Rothstein.’

Rose blushed with anger, but what the hell could she do, say no? Bartlett was looking her way, with a hint of mischief in his eyes. ‘That’s OK with you, Rose?’

‘Certainly, Professor Bartlett,’ Rose muttered.

‘Wonderful. See you all next’week.’ And the class stood and filed

out of Bartlett’s room in pairs.

The students pooled out on the stairwell, and Rose found herself

trapped by admirers.

‘Wow, that was awesome,’ Stanley Young said earnestly. ‘How

could you argue like that off. the top of your head?’

‘I’ve always liked Elizabeth,’ lose mumbled, desperate to get

away.

Jacob tothstein glanced at her over the top of the crowd. Tll

rooms?’make an appointment to meet you, Miss Fiorello. Where are your ‘Off-campus,’ Rose said shortly.

He scribbled a note on a business card which she saw him pull

from a solid gold card-case. ‘These are mine. Does noon tomorrow

suit?’

‘Whatever,’ Rose snapped.

‘See you then.’ Rothstein turned and walked down the stairs,

leaving Rose stranded in a throng of admirers.

The next morning, Rose did a little research.

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Jacob Rothstein. Star debater, pussy hound, jock - he boxed, apparently - and top of his class. He was in the year above her, and he had aced his exams. Women flung themselves at him, and, one of the girls she occasionally spoke to told her in the bathroom, giggling, ‘he’s just too polite to say no’.

He had the charm of a Southern gentleman married with the sophistication of New York. Add the fact that he was an heir to a vast fortune - ‘They’re in Forbes,’ Anna told her, with a wink. ‘You interested?’ - and girls could not stay away.

‘So he loves ‘em and leaves ‘em?’ Rose asked.

‘Yeah, but in a nice way.’

‘How the hell can you do that in a nice way? Come on.’ ‘Look.’ Anna fluffed up her blonde curls and reapplied her lipstick, with liner. ‘He doesn’t promise anything, you know? That’s what the bullshitters do. He just promises you a real nice time. Reeaal nice. And when it’s over, he sends you a nice piece ofjewellery.’ She sighed. ‘He’s very generous.’

Rose stared at Anna suspiciously. She was a short, luscious looking chick, with porno lips and platinum hair and more than a handful of T & A. She was carrying a few pounds, maybe, butlhe

was definitely attractive, in that easy sort of way.

‘How do you know all this?’

‘See these earrings?’ Anna twirled her head. ‘You should go for it, too. He’d love a chick like you. Maybe you could even date him for real, you know? It’s worth a shot.’

Rose bit down on her lip. She wasn’t going to say that she’d never have casual sex with any guy, much less with arrogant Jacob lothstein. Anna didn’t see the world the way she did.

‘He’s really not my type. I just have to study with him,’ she explained.

Anna giggled again. ‘Is that what they call it these days?’

Rose shut up. She couldn’t convince her, and she didn’t want to try.

When she.turned up at Rothstein’s rooms it was noon on the dot. ‘Come in,’ he called, to her smart rap on the door

Rose opened it, but did not enter. Rothstein’s room was sumptuously decorated; it looked like dorm-room via Ralph Lauren. English country house chic.

‘Why don’t we study in the library?’ she suggested.

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‘Urn, because we can’t talk there?’ Jacob Rothstein said. He

looked her over again, and she bristled.

‘Don’t look at me like that.’

‘Like what?’ Rothstein said innocently. ‘You’re an attractive girl. What am I supposed to do, go blind?’

Rose entered his room and closed the door behind her.

‘Let’s get one thing straight. I don’t like you.’

Jacob snapped his fingers. ‘Damnation. And my first impression was that you couldn’t wait to .jump my bones, you were so bowled over by my devastating good looks.’

‘Save that for girls like Anna Kent, OK?’

‘Ah.’ Jacob’s eyes lit up. ‘Anna. She was lots of fun.’

‘She returns the compliment. Now if you would.just get to work, we can complete this assignment and I can get out of here.’

‘Perfect.’ Jacob turned to his books. ‘Just out of interest, though, enlighten me. What exactly have I done to make you dislike me quite so much?’

God, she’s gorgeous, Rothstein thought. She didn’t want him staring at her? Too bad; he’d already inventoried the hand-span waist, the ‘ long, lean legs in those sexy “blue jeans, the tumbling waterfall of sleek, black hair that, amazingly enough, did not look as though it had been dyed, the soft, olive skin, and those incredible eyes.

Of course, the eyes were fake. They had to be coloured lenses. Nobody had palest-blue wolf-eyes like that, so intense and startling under the soft lashes. He wondered if those tits were real, too, but honestly - who cared?

She was the total package, and didn’t she know it, he thought. Rothstein liked chicks. His tastes were catholic, as far as bed went. Short girls with lusciously slung hips and big tits - delicious. Tall, lean girls with that arrogant model look - great. He didn’t like extremes of weight in either direction; apart from that, he really didn’t care. Rothstein enjoyed sex and wasn’t looking for commitment. He took pride in his lovemaking, regarding it as a form of art. When women sobbed and scratched in his arms, Jacob thought he was doing OK by them.

But Rose Fiorello would be nobody’s one-night stand, even if it weren’t for the luck-you attitude and the general air of frigidity. It was as though the ice in her eyes had spread little frozen tendrils all over the girl’s body. She was the polar opposite of comehither

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beauty. P,,ose was stay-away beauty. Moral beauty. Which made her all the more appealing.

Jacob had seen her before. Most of the males that studied history had seen her before. She was always bolting out of her seat after lectures, as though an errant wasp had stung her on the ass, carrying her thick sheaf of notes with her, looking neither to the right nor left, for all the world like a Wall Street banker barrelling through the crowd on his way to work. She was pure New York, with that don’t-mess-with-me attitude.

You could not miss her. She was tall and spectacular. Her clothes might be plain, but they did nothing to detract from her beauty. Her long hair was, surprisingly in this heavy-metal decade, not teased, back-combed, crimped or otherwise messed with; just sleek and glossy, like an otter darting from a stream. Her eyes were just startling. Her figure was lean, but not skinny; she had some tits and ass going, he thought approvingly. And her face, from the shockingly gorgeous eyes to the high, aristocratic cheekbones, the full lips and the long, straight loman nose, was just … perfect.

She was a million miles from Malibu Barbie, but really, so what. Other girls at Columbia - and Bamard, which was across the wiy - dressed more sexily. They had implants, miniskirts, towerin’$ heels, Donna Karan, manicures, bleached-blonde hair. There wer plenty of milk-fed, All-American, rosy-cheeked beauties hanging around this campus.

Not one of them was like Rose Fiorello.

But asking her out was taking your ego in your hands. He knew guys that had tried it - or at least attempted to try it. Mostly, they never got further than ‘Hi’, or ‘Excuse me, sugar -‘ before P,.ose cut them off, and barrelled out of the lecture hall.

She didn’t mingle. She didn’t socialise. She wasn’t in student politics or dramatics or night-classes.

Her whole, gorgeous body threw off her lack of interest in everyone around her.

Jacob had suggested to Professor Bartlett that Rose be invited to join the symposium. He had studied her carefully. She seemed to pay the most attention in Bartlett’s lectures, according to his informants.

And he assumed she would appreciate a challenge.

Well, he thought dryly, I got that right.

‘Let’s see.’ lose shut his door and sat down on one of his chairs, perching on the edge of it as though it were contagious. ‘Why don’t

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I

I like you? Maybe because I hear things. Cheap Lotharios don’t really do it for me.’

Jacob arched a brow. ‘Honey, there’s nothing cheap about me.’ ‘Don’t call me honey.’

‘And I doubt you heard anything before last night. You may have asked afterwards. It was clear then that you didn’t know who I was.’ He grinned. ‘I like the idea that you had me checked out later, though. Now tell me; what did I do to you last night?’

‘Do? Nothing.’ lose’s eyes narrowed. ‘Maybe your fancy suits and watch that costs what some students here live off all year bugged me. Maybe I noticed your cocky attitude and thought you needed a little deflating.’

Jacob thought about making a joke on the topic of Rose not being that likely to deflate him, but decided against it.

‘Maybe I don’t particularly warm to little princes who come to

college with Daddy’s money and assume they own the place.’ ‘Maybe you should pull that stick out of your ass.’ ‘Excuse me?’ Rose said, outraged.

Jacob looked at her evenly. ‘Oh, get over yourself, kid. You can dish it out, but I don’t have to take it. I make no apology for the

success of my family. In fac.t, I’m very proud of it.’

‘I bet you are.’

‘Damn straight. And as to my being here on Daddy’s money, I made 4.0 and the ninety-seventh percentile on my SATs. Don’t make the mistake of thinking rich kids are all stupid, just because you won a scholarship. I deserve to be at Columbia. In fact, I deserve to be anywhere in the IW League. I’m in Professor Bartlett’s class because I am one of his best students and aced my midterms. And if some girls like me’ - he shrugged - ‘you know what that is? None of your business.’

Rose stared at him and tried to think of a decent retort. Nothing sprang to mind. Shit.

‘Now we’ve cleared the air,’ Rothstein said after a second, giving her a superior smile, ‘if you want to storm out of my room in a tantrum, can you please do it fight away? Then you can call Professor Bartlett, and we can both get reassigned.’

‘You’re not as hot as you think you are,’ Rose hissed.

Rothstein moved a fraction closer to her, staring her right in the eyes.

‘How do you know?’ he said softly. ‘If you want to find out, there’s a spot here for you anytime.’

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He patted his bed.

‘You’re making a pass at me?’

‘Don’t look so jumpy. I’m issuing an invitation. I don’t take any chick to bed unless she asks me to. And …’

That lazy, confident gaze trickling over her again. Rose fought an impulse to squirm.

‘… you’d have to ask me at least twice.’

Rose deliberately settled back in her chair. He was attractive, she

admitted it to herself.

But not to her.

She thought of William Rothstein. Loathsome, ugly slug; very little like the princeling in front of her, except in his arrogance. Rose tried to recall William’s features, but time had blurred them; she had only an impression of revulsion, and the memory of the sound of his voice, the cutting, contemptuous words.

She smiled thinly, despising him and his clan.

‘Don’t hold your breath. And as for me storming out of here, I hate to break it to you, but you’re really not that important. Shall we turn to the subject? I’ve brought some books.’

,,

They worked through the lunch hour. Rose argued her poil?ts quietly and methodically, but she was crackling with adrenaline. She wanted to stare at Jacob Rothstein, the heir to the company she was going to destroy. Not that he would know it. P,.ose wanted to scream it in his ear, to hit him, to let him know without the shadow of a doubt that she was after him, that it wouldn’t be long now.

But she did not. She simply debated with him, took notes and discussed the topic.

Pothstein was infuriating. After that introduction, he’d just continued to work as though nothing had happened. He was smart, too, and he knew his period. He could match her point for point. In fact, he had insight. At the end of an hour, the two of them had prepared a remarkable paper.

‘It’s been interesting,’ he said, offering his hand when she stood up to go.

Rose let it hang there.

‘We aren’t friends,’ she said.

Rothstein shrugged.

‘Your loss,’ he said. ‘I was looking forward to getting to know

yOU.’

Rose turned on her heel and walked out.

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‘See you tomorrow, toots,’ he called after her.

Rose’s heart didn’t stop pounding until she’d got out of his building and two streets away from campus. Bastard, sexist, womanising bastard! Patronising jerk! She was hot with fury, almost fighting to get her breath.