“Why don’t you start at the beginning?” Joe asked, keeping his voice quiet, sympathetic, and encouraging. “I find that usually helps, you know. Just start at the beginning, and tell me everything.”

“I got into Harvard, you know.” Jordy turned his back to Joe and looked out the window. Even in the shapeless sweatpants, Joe could see the curve of his muscular ass. He laughed again and reached up to close the blinds. His tank top rode up, revealing two deep dimples just where the curve of his buttocks began. His waist was small, and his tanned skin was completely smooth. He lowered the blinds and turned around, tugging the shirt down as he did so—but not before Joe caught a glimpse of the defined muscles of Jordy’s abdomen. The sweatpants had also ridden down a bit in the front, showing the waistband of a pair of 2(x)ist underwear.

Joe struggled to keep his mind on the interview at hand. “Harvard?”

Jordy sat back down in the chair. “Yeah. But I had this great idea—which seems incredibly stupid to me now—that it would be better for me to come here for a couple years before I went there.” He paused, then offered as explanation, “I went to a boarding school in Switzerland, St. Bernard of Clairvaux—and I didn’t really have the slightest idea of what American kids my own age were like. I didn’t have any friends there, you know. I thought—I thought if I came to school here for a couple years . . .” He yawned and stretched, every muscle in his arms and shoulders flexing. “I should have just gone to Harvard. But I thought it would be fun to be a ‘normal’ student at a ‘normal’ university for a while first.”

“Really?” Focus, Joe, focus on the task at hand. Forget he’s the best looking guy you’ve ever met. Forget that sexy body and that hot ass under the sweatpants. Do your goddamned job. He swallowed. “A boarding school. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who went to a boarding school.”

Jordy nodded. “St. Bernard was a great school. Mom and Dad sent me there when I was ten. It is one of the best schools in the world—and you can’t get in just because you can afford the tuition. You have to be smart, too.” He smiled. “And I am very, very smart. I love to learn. I have an insatiable curiosity.” His eyes got a faraway look in them. “My parents weren’t exactly thrilled with the idea of me coming here, which kind of made me want to come here all the more.” His expression darkened. “If I knew then what I know now . . .” He shook his head. “But you don’t care about any of that, do you?”

Joe shrugged. How rich is this kid? And in spite of himself, he thought, God help this kid if Sean ever meets him. Gorgeous AND rich? Sean would grab on to him like a leech and never let go.

“I’m an only child,” Jordy went on. “My parents travel a lot, and I always joined them on vacations.” He cracked a smile. “I’ve been on every continent. I’ve been to Antarctica twice—we spent Christmas there last year. Talk about a white Christmas—it doesn’t get much whiter anywhere than Antarctica.”

“What does your father do?” Joe knew the interview was getting off-topic, but he was curious. Would you be this curious about him if he weren’t this incredibly beautiful young man? a mocking voice whispered in his brain, but he ignored it.

“You don’t know? No one told you?” Jordy barked out a bitter laugh. “There’s a surprise. It’s why they gave me a bid to join Beta Kappa to begin with—because of who my father is.” His eyes flashed with anger. “My dad developed a computer program called EZ Accounting. Have you heard of it?”

Joe nodded. Who hadn’t heard of EZ Accounting? He had it on his home computer and used it to pay his bills and balance his checkbook. Their commercials were all over television. “Your dad invented that?”

Jordy nodded. “He did it when he was in his twenties, right out of MIT. He made a couple of hundred million dollars, and the money just keeps rolling in.” He flashed that heart-melting smile again. “Mom has a master’s in English Literature and another one in Art History. She went to Harvard. I got perfect scores on all of my college entry tests.” He blushed a little bit. “Like I told you, I am really smart. My GPA at CSUP is 4.0, and I haven’t really had to crack a book yet.” His voice was a little smug. “I can see why my parents didn’t want me to go to school here, even for a couple of years. The classes here are really easy.”

“You are smart,” Joe agreed.

“So, I applied for admission to CSU-Polk, and I got in.” Jordy waved a hand. “Like there was ever any doubt about it. I was so excited . . . we all came up for orientation, and Mom and Dad got me this apartment. Hayley, my mom’s interior designer, came up and did all the decorating right before I moved in. She did a good job, huh?”

“It’s a lovely apartment,” Joe replied.

“You’re really polite.” Jordy tilted his head and scrutinized Joe’s face. “I mean, you’re sitting there listening to me prattle on and on about all of this when all you really want to know is whether I pushed Chad out that window.”

“Did you?”

Jordy shook his head vigorously. “No, I didn’t.” He made a face. “Oh, don’t get me wrong, I wanted Chad to suffer. But I don’t believe in violence of any sort. I wasn’t raised that way. And I did make him suffer. . . .” His voice trailed off.

“Why don’t you start at the beginning?” Now, Joe thought, now we’re onto something. He pulled a digital recorder out of his jacket pocket. “Do you mind if I tape this?”

“No, go ahead,” Jordy replied. “I’m not worried. I haven’t committed any crimes.”

Joe gave him what he hoped was a friendly, reassuring smile. “Just start at the beginning. Don’t leave anything out.”

“Okay.” Jordy took a deep breath. “It all started last August, when I moved into this place. Mom and Dad came up with me, to help me get settled. . . .”

Chapter 1

No one looking at my parents would ever guess they’re worth over seven hundred million dollars, give or take.

“You’re absolutely sure about this?” my father asked, helping himself to some more breadsticks from the basket in the middle of the table. He squinted at me through his horn-rimmed glasses. “I mean, it’s not too late to change your mind. I could make a few calls—”

My mother smacked his hand, giving me a warm smile. “Terry, we’ve been over this a thousand times.” She rolled her eyes at me. “He wants to have a normal college experience before he goes to Harvard.” She emphasized normal, making me smile a little to myself. She’d been against my decision much more vehemently than Dad in the beginning, but once she came around she was firmly on my side.

We were sitting in a booth in the Olive Garden on Shaw Avenue, about five blocks from the campus of California State University–Polk. The place was largely deserted, which was probably the norm for three in the afternoon. Our waitress, a pretty young girl whose name tag read COLLEEN, refilled our iced tea glasses. She had no idea she was about to get the biggest tip of her serving career—Dad always tipped several hundred dollars, no matter where he ate. He’d worked his way through MIT as a waiter and never forgot what it was like to bust your ass for a few bucks. I smiled at her, and she smiled back.

Dad certainly didn’t look like he was capable of tipping that much. He was wearing a red CSU-Polk T-shirt over a pair of worn-looking jeans. He was balding, and he had pale pink skin that turned tomato red with any exposure to the sun. They’d just spent a week in the Bahamas and were about to head off for Tanzania to check on a health clinic they were funding. Dad was chubby and always had a kind of distracted air, like he wasn’t really paying attention to what was going on around him because he was lost in thought.

He certainly didn’t look like someone who could buy the place with a single phone call.