How to Teach Filthy Rich Girls by Zoey Dean Page A

don‘t know how I can possibly—‖
    I stopped midsentence. Was someone knocking on my suite door? I listened. Yes. There it was again.
    ―Someone‘s here,‖ I told Charma. ―Call you later.‖
    ―Wait, wait. Laurel Limoges has a wine cellar, right?‖
    My finger hovered over the ―end‖ button. ―I haven‘t had the grand tour yet, but probably.‖
    ―If you do blow out of there, grab me a couple bottles. She‘ll never miss ‘em.‖
    I hung up and padded down the corridor to the door. There stood Sage and Rose.
    ―Could we . . . speak with you a minute?‖ Sage asked tentatively.
    Where was the sneer? Where was the attitude? Why hadn‘t she called me Frizzy?
    ―Sure,‖ I told them cautiously. ―Come in.‖
    They trailed behind me back to the pink-polka-dotted sitting area. ―So, what‘s up?‖ I asked as they settled onto two of the hassocks.

    They shared a hesitant look. ―We came to apologize. Earlier . . . we weren‘t so nice.‖
    Sage twisted the bottom of her camisole nervously between her fingers. ―It was just such a shock, you know. What our grandmother did.‖
    Rose nodded. ―Eighty-four million dollars is a lot of money. You don‘t get that taken away from you every day.‖
    ―And that stuff about college?‖ Sage went on, her green eyes watery and earnest. ―That was news to us. She never said anything about Duke before. How were we supposed to know?‖
    ―Don‘t sweat it,‖ I told them, surprising myself. It would be shocking to hear you couldn‘t go on being the spoiled princess you‘d always been. It might even have ruptured their one shared brain cell. ―Let‘s start over. I‘m Megan,‖ I said lamely, holding out my hand.
    ―Sage.‖ She giggled, extending her hand, too.
    ―Rose. How do you do?‖ She stood up, then curtsied. Okay, that was kind of cute.
    All I knew about the Baker twins was what I‘d read in Vanity Fair and seen in Laurel‘s office. Maybe there was more to them than that.
    ―As long as we‘re starting over . . .‖ I took a seat on the carpet and motioned for them to join me, which they did. ―How about if we get to know each other a little? What do you guys do for fun?‖ I nearly rolled my eyes at myself to save them the trouble.
    Sage put her knees up, circling her long legs with her arms. ―To tell you the truth, we‘re kind of wild.‖
    Rose‘s head bobbed. ― Very wild.‖
    ―I can be wild,‖ I said confidently, recalling my oh-so-recent East Village beavering.
    Sage rose to her knees and put her head close to mine. ―Tell us the wildest thing you ever did.‖
    Hmmm. Save the unintentional beavering, my wildometer was a total flatline.
    Sage grinned. ―Sex in public?‖
    Whether I had or I hadn‘t—okay, I hadn‘t—it didn‘t seem like bonding over my sex life with my two students-to-be was a really professional way to go. But I wanted to prove that I wasn‘t afraid to meet them halfway.
    ―Let‘s save that for another night,‖ I dodged.
    ―Fair enough,‖ Sage agreed, though I could see her shoulders sag with disappointment. I feared I was losing my audience, but Sage‘s next words belied that impression.

    ―You know, you‘re not really what we thought,‖ Sage told me. She tilted her head as if looking at me anew. ―You seem almost . . . cool.‖
    Rose nodded emphatically. ―Yeah.‖
    ―So . . .‖ Sage perked up again. ―Maybe this could work after all. Let‘s try studying tomorrow.‖
    ―Sure,‖ I said. ―Yeah, let‘s.‖ Laurel had been right. These girls might be dumb, but they weren‘t stupid enough to turn their back on the family fortune. ―How about nine o‘clock?‖
    ―Ten,‖ Sage said.
    ―Ten it is.‖
    Sage grinned the biggest, whitest grin in the history of big, white grins. ―You‘re on—if you‘ll do something for us first.‖
    ―Yeah,‖ Rose agreed.
    Fine. They wanted to prove to me that they had some power by making it an exchange. I understood. It was Sociology 101, only they