Heir Born

4 | Nate

"Mr Vanderbilt. Dr Reynolds will see you now."

For an elite school secretary, Amanda Pritchard looks incredibly young and incredibly beautiful. Her hair is on the darker strawberry end of the blonde spectrum. And she's deceptively petite, she'd pass for a senior in high school were it not the uniform marking us all, like lambs to the slaughter. She's a recent college graduate, and absolutely hates being referred to as Ms or Miss Pritchard.

"I told you, Nathaniel. It makes me feel like I'm a hundred years old." Her exact words when she first arrived at Chaucer last year. She insists on calling me Nathaniel even after I told her it's Nate. Granted. I might have left her a little shaken when I called her 'foxy' to her face last year.

I steal a glance, eyeing her from above my glasses.

Yep. Far too hot to be manning a principal's desk.

I grab my bag, and make my way into Reynolds' office.

I can't resist. The flirty charmer in me is completely in his zone right now. Must have something to do with Summer and that lift. Or the liquor. I don't know. I don't really care.

"Thanks, Amanda." I make sure she catches the wink.

She nods appreciatively. As I walk past and through into Dr Reynolds' office, I sense what seems like an uneasiness about her. I take another look at her, but she's already buried in a binder on her desk.

I'm tempted to think she's intentionally avoiding looking at me, but I no sooner brush that thought out of my mind.

I shut the door behind me. As I turn back around, I see my mother, Eleanor Vanderbilt, seated with the school principal, Dr Reynolds.

Jonathan Reynolds is a Chaucer House legacy who attended this very school just before my father. He's a bit of a sleaze because he gets caught up in scandals that leave his family dealing with the mess, while he plays the victim. I don't like that. But whatever. Old people never made sense to me, anyways.

He and my mother have always had this odd friendship. I call it friendship because I have no other term to define this thing between the two of them. My father doesn't seem to mind it, so I left it at that. But it's a imbalanced one because it's obvious he's really scared of her. Like petrified. Then again, who isn't terrified of Eleanor Vanderbilt?

Eleanor is the kind of woman people don't really want to mess with. She's brutal, cunning, conniving, calculating. Unrelenting. Unscrupulous. Uncompromising. It's like she's possessed when she wants something. Mostly when she's out to destroy someone or cause destruction. She's not maternal. Well, not from what I know of her, anyway. And I'm her only son. She never talks about her past before marrying my father. But I know there's murky waters underneath that history of theirs.

Speaking of which, she watches me walk in as she sits across from Reynolds. She can see I didn't expect to see her here. I take measured steps towards the two, the look of confusion hard to miss on my face probably.

"Mother. What are you doing here?" I raise my brow.

"Come sit." She reaches her hand out to me. I don't take it. But I walk over to the chair next to hers to sit, then I hang my bag on the back of my chair.

"Mr Vanderbilt, your mother has some rather important news which may impact the remainder of your time here at Chaucer House."

Reynolds is doing his best to soften the blow, but I know this tactic so well, I practically invented it.

"Honey, your father will be joining Chaucer House as Chairman of the Board of Trustees."

My mother doesn't mince words when she speaks, that's for sure. She gives it to me straight. Facts and all. No frilly stuff.