The drive back to Kensington took longer than usual.
Traffic on the Jersey Turnpike crawled at a pace that would make snails feel athletic. Some kind of fender bender near Exit 6 had transformed three lanes into a parking lot. I spent forty minutes staring at the same minivan's bumper sticker. "My Child Is An Honor Student At Somewhere I Don't Care About."
Good for them.
My mind kept drifting back to Cassidy's room. To that ridiculous bet I'd just agreed to.
You can make me do whatever you want. No complaints. No attitude. I'll even wear a collar if you ask nicely.
I gripped the steering wheel harder.
What kind of rich girl makes a bet like that? With her tutor? Her employee? The guy who literally signed a contract with her family?
The kind who thinks she's going to lose, that's who.
