Chapter 23
Islip in my earrings, wishing I could admire the way they complement my silver dress. It’s from a second-hand shop, but no one would ever know because of the label inside. Tonight calls for an elegance I don’t usually get to participate in, and I couldn’t care less. My heart has been racing ever since I got the email from Professor Ames this morning, and now that it’s almost time, I want to puke.
The door swings open to reveal Raven. She runs her gaze over my shiny dress and arches a brow. “Hey, sexy. Hot date tonight?”
I shake my head. “I wish. This,” I say, running my hands down my sides, “is for extra credit.”
“As a prostitute?”
A laugh slips out of me. “No. This place doesn’t allow bribery, so I’m pretty sure prostitution is off the table.”
“That’s a shame.” She steps fully into the room and shuts the door behind her. After tossing her purse on the floor, Raven throws herself on her bed and folds her arms over her chest. “That outfit of yours screams, ‘do me, daddy’ instead of ‘university event.’”
“I don’t care if it’s boring, as long as it allows me to keep my grades up.”
“Where is this thing anyway?”
I pick up my lipstick and apply it before speaking. I’m unsure how much I’m allowed to disclose about my contract, but keeping Miss Sherlock Holmes from suspecting anything is going to be a challenge. I’m pretty confident she wouldn’t tell anyone if I told her my situation, but that’s not my only issue. I’m not just scared of losing my scholarship, I’m beyond embarrassed this is happening.
“It’s at the student center,” I say.
“That’s for nerds. I wouldn’t be caught dead there.”
I know. That’s why I chose it as my answer.
“You were right about Professor Ames,” I say, attempting to steer the conversation in a different direction. I secure a diamond-tipped hair pin in my updo. “He’s a hard ass when it comes to grading. If I want an A in his class, then I have to do this extra credit.”
“As long as it doesn’t include sucking his dick, then you should be okay.”
I make a face. “That’s not happening. What are your plans tonight?”
“Well, I was going out with June, but she canceled on me this morning. Bitch.” Raven sighs and rolls on her side to face me. “She said she had some mandatory thing for her math club. Talk about boring. I bet she’ll be at the student center too.”
“Maybe,” I say, avoiding eye contact with my roommate. “All right, I’m out of here.”
“Have fun, if you can.”
“I doubt it.”
She snorts. “Me too.”
“Don’t wait up for me.”
Raven blows me a kiss right before I shut the door behind me. Within moments, I’m outside, the cool evening air brushing my cheeks. I stay on the sidewalks to avoid breaking an ankle in my heels. The click that sounds with every step I take is like a metronome, ticking away towards my doom.
The only silver lining in this whole ordeal is the possibility that I could see Ben. Whether or not he wants to see me is something I won’t allow myself to think about for long. It’s been weeks since we last spoke, and now the prospect of encountering him stirs so many conflicting emotions.
If I walk up to him, will he ignore me? Would there be tension or a familiarity that’s been constant most of my life? What’s the reason he’s been avoiding me?
My tumultuous thoughts keep me company as I make my way across campus. Eventually, the glow of the fraternity’s castle comes into view, guarded by the ornate iron-wrought gate. I slow my steps on the gravel-filled driveway and then stop in front of the entrance.
Like magic, the gate slides open. They have great security… or someone’s anticipating my arrival.
Hesitation slithers down my legs, keeping me from moving. I shake it off and pull my coat tighter around my shoulders before marching forward. The faster I get in there, the faster I can get this over with.
The heavy, wooden door of the castle opens without a sound just as I reach the threshold. A figure emerges, backlit by the lights from the foyer. It’s an older man with salt and pepper hair, dressed in a black suit with a crisp white shirt underneath, and polished onyx shoes.
The man inclines his head and extends his arm with flourished movement, his gloved hand pointing in my direction. “Welcome, Miss Scott.”
I nod, too unsettled by everything to form coherent words. It’s one thing for the gate to swing open when I show up, but to have this man open the door before I knock is another. Not to mention he said my name, which means he knows my identity. The security in this place is epic or really fucking scary.
“I am Mortimer. Mrs. Emerson has asked me to escort you to the lounge. Right this way, please.”
My mind instantly hones in on the founding family name of Emerson. Another bitch who’s probably drinking the crazy kool-aid. I suppose I should be grateful I’m not dealing with Professor Ames. He’s like a not-hot Professor Snape: smart, creepy, and a dick.
As Mortimer leads the way, the grandeur of the castle’s interior momentarily diminishes my nervousness. The entrance hall is adorned with colorful tapestries depicting different coat-of-arms and battle scenes from the Revolutionary War. I glance up at the chandeliers, now electric instead of using candles, and their sparkle momentarily dazzles me.
We climb a wide staircase that’s covered in a rich burgundy carpeting. The carved banister is smooth to touch, worn by generations of hands. At the top, he guides me down a long hallway and my heels sink into the plush material underneath my feet.
I scan the area and frown when I find we’re completely alone. Although I have no idea how many fraternity members live in this building, I figured I would’ve seen at least one by now.
“Where is everyone?” I ask.
The butler never stops walking but turns to briefly look at me over his shoulder. “All will be revealed in time, Miss Scott. You’ll see.”
His cryptic response makes my nervousness return in full force. I’m not sure why I’m so jittery. This event is sanctioned by the university, at least to an extent, so it has to be safe.
Right?
Mortimer stops in front of a pair of double doors at the end of the corridor before pushing them open. I peek around him to find a room draped in blue and gold.
“Mrs. Emerson will be with you shortly,” he says.
I nod and step into the room, finding it empty. The large fireplace takes center stage and gives the space a welcoming glow. Plush sofas have been placed in front of it, the flames from the fire dancing along their deep blues and bright golds. The walls are draped with swaths of cream-colored silk and accentuated with golden filigree patterns.
My inspection of the decor comes to a halt when the doors open behind me. I immediately take a step back, my gaze focused on the newcomer. Mortimer guides her inside, giving her the same speech he did to me, and shuts the door once more.
June glances around the room, taking in the antique furniture, but when her gaze lands on me, it widens. My friend hurries over to my side, her long legs scissoring gracefully. The black dress she wears is similar to mine in style, straps lining her shoulders and the hem stopping just above her knees.
“What are you doing here?” I ask.
“You first.” She eyes me up and down. “Though it looks like we’re here for the same party.”
I bite the inside of my cheek. The uncertainty of the situation rushes through me, loosening my tongue. “I, uh, had a little incident involving a certain asshole professor. Signing up for this event was my way of getting out of trouble. Your turn.”
June folds her arms with a sigh. “My academic advisor called me into the office yesterday and told me that my ‘failure to participate in community activities could lead to my scholarship being revoked,’” she says, making air quotes. “I can’t afford the tuition, so here I am, despite the fact that I was never told about this.”
“I was accused of cheating. Well, not me, but helping the guy next to me do it.”
“Seriously?”
I nod. “Yeah. I’m here to exemplify a model student.”
“Join the club. Do you know what we’re supposed to do exactly?”
“Not a fucking clue. The email I got from Professor Ames was short and didn’t tell me anything important other than the date, time, and what to wear.”
June purses her lips. “Honestly, this is the biggest load of bullshit. I don’t get how us attending a fraternity’s initiation ceremony makes any difference.”
I open my mouth to respond, then promptly shut it when the door opens. Another young woman, clearly a student like us, walks into the room. Her hair is a dark brown, but her eyes hold the same apprehension as ours.
It takes me a moment to recognize her. An image of her adjusting her clothing before she chases after a disheveled Xavier fills my mind. A rush of heat sweeps over my cheeks before I can stop it. Jealousy, an unwelcome intruder, wraps its fingers around my heart and squeezes.
I stare at the young woman while reminding myself that I’m not interested in Xavier. Never mind the fact that he’s a grown man and free to sleep with whoever he wants. It’s not like him saving my life means I’m indebted to him or that I’ve stopped being pissed at him for keeping secrets about Ben.
Even with that logic running through my mind, I find myself studying her features, trying to understand what he sees in her. In comparison, her clothing is better quality, and she carries an air of sophistication I can never replicate. Maybe she’s his girlfriend and one of the reasons he keeps telling me to stay away from him.
“Hi,” she says with a tiny wave, bringing me out of my grim thoughts. “I’m Brenda. You guys here for the ceremony?”
“Yes,” June says. “I’m June, and this is Delilah.”
Brenda comes to stand beside us, wringing her hands. “This place is wild. They don’t allow anyone on the property, let alone inside. It’s crazy that they want us here to begin with. My roommate is super jealous.”
“It doesn’t add up,” June says. “I’m saying that as a woman and as a math genius.”
I nod. “Agreed.”
That is what’s been bothering me since I received the email from Professor Ames. Nothing about me being here makes any sense. My presence should have no bearing on the proceedings, yet there’s three of us standing in this room.
The doors open, and I jerk my head in that direction. My gaze lands on a middle-aged woman as she strides into the space with a commanding air. Dressed in a gown that combines opulence with a hint of sensuality, she wears a navy-colored fabric that clings to her body. Her chestnut hair has been swept up into a bun atop her head, and there are artfully arranged curls framing her face.
She stops two feet from our group and claps her hands sharply. “All of you need to remove your clothes. Now.”