The Snob
by Megan Slayer
Dark Romance, Age Gap
Date Published: April 3, 2026
Carley Mathers isn’t just the “party girl” daughter of
a congressman. She’s more. But these days, in a world of fake friends,
she’s determined to keep only true ones close. Because she puts them at
arm’s length, her classmates at college refer to her as “The
Snob.” But she comes from wealth and means -- she shouldn’t be
able to mix with her bodyguard, right?
Dacre Jennings has been given the job of protecting Carley while she’s
off at college. The same classmates who make light of her silence also make
fun of him, too. He doesn’t care that they think she lives with the old
man. He’d rather she lived with him than alone. He sees the real woman,
and he’s been in love with her for as long as he’s worked for the
family.
With threats on her life, Dacre refuses to let Carley be used or abused.
He’ll put his life on the line for her, as long as he knows he’s
got her heart as well.
EXCERPT
Carley Mathers closed her notebook and put her pen back in the front pocket of
her backpack. She wasn’t a fan of taking notes, but the only way
she’d keep the dates for all the paintings straight was to write them
down.
“Going home to Grandpa?” Selena, one of the girls Carley thought
she might become friends with, asked. “Hang around people your own age.
Do some gambling. Party or something else that’s normal?”
“Would it kill you to go to the frat party?” Missy snapped.
“You like to drink. Guys like you. Might get us some action and we could
win some money, since you’ve got tons. You can spare some. Any of that
ring a bell?”
Carley rolled her eyes and zipped her backpack. She’d had enough of
those vices. It was time to grow up and settle down -- or at least take her
education seriously. Growing up the daughter of a politician and influencer
was bad enough, but she’d exploited her position for years.
She grabbed her backpack and turned on her heel, ignoring the women. She
hadn’t come to the University of Nevada to be sucked into a gambling
situation. She’d wanted to further her education.
“God, she’s such a fucking snob,” Missy said.
“Won’t talk to anyone.”
“That old man is her boyfriend,” Selena said. “Probably
won’t let her go out. Has to keep her on a leash.”
If they only knew… Carley left the lecture hall and met Dacre in the
lobby. “Hiya, Grandpa.”
“Grandpa?” Dacre left his post by the doorway and fell in step
with her. “That’s a new one.”
“Not all that new.”
“Who said it?”
She stopped near the entrance doors to the art building and nodded over her
shoulder. “The two brunettes over there. They wanted me to go to a frat
party and make a damn fool of myself. I’ve had it with those
days.”
He held the door for her as she stepped into the early October sunshine.
“It’s warmer than I thought it would be.”
“I don’t mind. I like the warmth.” She elbowed him as they
walked together. “They said I’m a snob.”
“You are.”
She jabbed him again. “Take that back.”
“Sorry, but no.” He kept walking. “You don’t talk to
anyone, don’t mix with your peers, and keep to yourself.”
“That doesn’t make me a snob.”
“No,” he said. “But you come to class wearing expensive
stuff and not talking much. It allows people to make up their own stories
about you. They know what you’ve done and expect you’ll keep doing
it.”
She sighed. She’d been such a bad girl in her younger days. Younger
days… who was she kidding? She was only nineteen. But in her short
years, she’d drunk most everyone under the table. She’d partied
more than anyone her age should’ve been doing and tried too many things
that should’ve been forbidden for someone underage. Being the child of
wealth meant no one kept her in line -- certainly not her parents. As far as
she was concerned, her parents used her bad behavior to further their own
causes.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to touch a
nerve.”
“It’s okay.” She shrugged. “It’s not like I can
hide my past. I can’t hide my name, either. Everyone thinks they know
who I am, but no one takes the time to get to know the real me.”
“You don’t exactly open yourself up to it.” He joined her at
the truck. “You’re a wonderful person and cute as a button, but no
one sees it. All they see is you keeping tight-lipped and away from
everyone.”
“Wouldn’t you?” She fell onto the passenger seat. She waited
for him to do a quick search of the vehicle before he joined her in the cab.
“All clear?”
“Clear.” He closed the driver’s side door. “I
don’t blame you for being guarded. I told you, it’s perfectly
fine. You’ve had a lot of attention, and I get why you don’t want
it.”
She clicked her belt into place. “But?”
“But you’re not going to escape it. Unless you change your name or
completely change your face, you’re going to have to put up with the
attention.” He put the truck into gear. “The girls said
you’re a snob?”
“And wanted me to go to a party to act the fool and get them
guys.” She arranged her backpack between her feet, then withdrew her
phone. The device buzzed, drawing her attention. “Sorry. I won’t
be your circus animal.”
“I’d like to think that’s not the case, but I’m sure
it is.” He drove across the student lot. “It doesn’t help
that I’m following you around and trying to keep you safe. They see me
around and think I’m some kind of old pervert.”
“My grandfather.” She swiped through the screens to her texts.
“You don’t look that old.”
“Grandfather?” he asked. “I’m only twenty years older
than you. Yes, I could be your father, but grandfather? I’m hurt.”
“You don’t look thirty-nine.”
“Forty, but who’s counting?”
“When did you turn forty?” She put her phone down and stared at
him. “Why didn’t I know when you had your birthday?”
She’d been oblivious for years, but this was inexcusable.
“Two months ago.” He shrugged and flexed his hands on the wheel.
“It’s okay. I try not to remember it.”
“That’s not right. We should’ve had a party.”
“You were moving into school. I had better things to do and you
didn’t need to be concerned with me.” He kept driving through
campus to the condominiums.
“I don’t care. I would’ve liked to have known so we
could’ve had a party, even if it was just you and me.” She
would’ve done something nice for him and even bought a present.
“Your father told me to keep it quiet.”
“He’s a jackass.” She wasn’t the biggest fan of her
famous father. “I hate that he said that.”
“It’s okay.”
“Stop saying that.” She picked her phone up again. “This
stupid thing won’t stop buzzing. I don’t have anything due or
reminders set.” She’d been careful to note when she had to turn in
projects and if she had tests so she didn’t blow her grade point
average. She refused to keep riding her parents’ coattails.
“What’s up?” He parked in the garage of the condo they
shared. “Another test?”
“Nope.” She scrolled through the message, then swiped to her email
where she read the rest of the information. “Fucking hell.”
“Watch your mouth.” He put the garage door down and took the key
from the ignition. “What’s wrong?”
She sighed and scrolled through the mandate again. “It would appear my
father is being considered for a role in the president’s cabinet and he
-- my father -- has decided to have a party. He’s dictating I show up at
said party and that I wear something slinky, he says, so I can attract a
husband. The president’s son will be there, as well as the son of a
diplomat and some dipshit who has an artificial intelligence startup. Why is
he throwing me at these men? What if I don’t like them?”
“You don’t.”
“Duh.” She turned her phone over on her lap. “He’s
sending the private jet to come get me.”
“Don’t you have a test on Monday?”
“I do. Art history.” She folded her hands on her phone. “I
don’t want to go, but I can’t refuse him.”
“I know.” He opened the driver’s side door. “But it
would’ve been nice if he’d have told me.” He rounded the
hood to her side of the truck.
“You didn’t know?”
“Nope.” He slid his phone from his back pocket. “Not a
word.”
“You’re coming with me.” She insisted on it.
“I’m not going if you don’t.”
“I’m not leaving you to those wolves.” He opened her door
for her. “Sweets, I’m stuck to you like glue.”
“You’re good glue.” She grasped his hand and squeezed his
fingers. She’d had a crush on him for years but kept that to herself. He
didn’t see her as a desirable woman. She was “cute as a
button.” What young woman wanted to hear that? It was a kiss of death.
Like telling her she was one of the guys. She allowed him to help her from the
truck, then stumbled forward into his arms.
“Hi.” He crooked his brow. “You okay?”
She’d always felt a tingle when he touched her. Now, that tingle had
turned into full electrical jolts. Her pussy throbbed and she longed to kiss
him. He didn’t look forty. Hell, he barely looked thirty. What he did
look like was sexy enough that she wanted to wrap herself around him. He was
just her type -- older, tall, slightly graying at the temples, a weathered
look around his eyes and just the right amount of stubble on his cheeks and
chin to abrade her skin. Plus, he had killer blue eyes.
“Carley?” He tipped his head. He’d started wearing a
baseball cap and zipped hoodie to blend in more with the college students.
“You’re staring at me.”
“What’s not to stare at?” She stayed in his arms and sighed.
“You’re…” She almost said dreamy, but that
wasn’t right. He was dreamy, but he was more than that. With him, she
felt safe. Respected. Heard.
“Not me,” he said. “I’m not supposed to be touching
you.”
“Do you want to?” She stood and righted herself, trying to look
less flustered. “Sorry. I should behave.” She grabbed her backpack
before hurrying into the condo. She’d made a fool of herself and hated
that she’d allowed herself to be vulnerable, even if only for a second.
“Carley.” He hurried after her. “Wait.”
About the Author
Megan Slayer, aka Wendi Zwaduk, is a multi-published, award-winning author of
more than one-hundred short stories and novels. She’s been writing since
2008 and published since 2009. Her stories range from the contemporary and
paranormal to LGBTQ and white hot themes. No matter what the length, her works
are always hot, but with a lot of heart. She enjoys giving her characters a
second chance at love, no matter what the form. She’s been nominated at
the LRC for Best Author, Best Contemporary, Best Ménage, Best BDSM and
Best Anthology. Her books have made it to the bestseller lists on various
e-tailer sites.
When she’s not writing, Megan spends time with her husband and son as
well as three dogs and three cats. She enjoys art, music and racing, but
football is her sport of choice. She’s an active member of the Friends
of the Keystone-LaGrange Public library.
Author on Twitter
Author on Instagram
Publisher on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and TikTok: @changelingpress
Save 15% off any order at ChangelingPress.com with code RABT15
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