book 2 of 4
on the outside, looking in, bianca prescott was back to who everyone knew her as- kook princess, island royalty, who couldn't give less of a fuck about the pogues like they were poo on her jimmy choo's.
but bianca had a hit list. just...
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It was the survival of the fittest in the upper-class of the Outer Banks and the only way to keep your head above water was to keep swimming. Of course, in order to get to the top, you have to hunt on the weaker, more feeble prey and the Pogues as well as every other local living on the Cut, were on the bottom of the food chain.
The apex predator, however, had no rivals. They weren't hunted or endangered or needed to worry about where they get their next meal from because they were the only beings feared by all. In Kildare's case, the Prescott's and Cameron's, were unparalleled in their power, status and wealth. They had nothing to worry about because in the eyes of Michael and Ward, there was no competition or foe capable of taking them down.
But Bianca never backed down from a challenge and she always believed the chase was far more exhilarating than the kill.
Like any good revenge scheme, she needed intel. Unfortunately for the girl, she came up short in this department after being cut off from all outside sources and media outlets whilst locked away in rehab.
That's what Topper was for–– the grandson of Judge Holden. His grandfather had the power to condemn or free anyone on trial and he was her ticket in. She needed insider information in order to come up with a fool proof plan to exact her revenge on her hit list of names.
That was harder than it looked, however, especially when the fool himself gets in the way.
The Sunday sun gleamed down on Bianca the next day, a cool breeze rushing through her hair. She thrown on a simple black minidress that clung to her skin under a sable leather blazer that pooled at her thighs and a pair of white sneakers. The girl placed her sunglasses at the top of her head as the building came into view, adjusting her shoulder bag before stepping through the entrance.
With a little guilt tripping, a promise that she'd text a picture that she actually was going to meet up with Topper at The Oasis Hotel downtown and the nod of approval from her parents, Bianca left her house with the slam of the front door.
"You don't talk much, do you, Reggie?" Bianca mentioned on their drive down in her chauffeur's steely black Rolls Royce Phantom. She'd opened the sliding privacy partition between the front two seats to raise her eyebrows at him.
Reginald only spared her a single glance through the rearview mirror before turning back to the road ahead. His voice came back dull and bored, the same passive tone, "I'm here to escort you, Miss Prescott, not to converse about your life."
Bianca scoffed lightly, "Ouch. That's kinda harsh," She mused, closing the partition between them before leaning back in the leather interior with a small smile tilting at the corners of her lips.
