Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Ashleigh
G lancing at my reflection in the mirror, I smooth down the front of my dress. Midnight blue fabric wraps my body to perfection and shows off my décolleté with an off-the-shoulder swath hugging my curves. Tossing my head a touch, I giggle as the few strands of hair not pulled up into a tight French twist brush my skin, setting off thousands of butterflies in my stomach.
I’m not exactly sure what has me so giddy. It’s not as if I’m new to these sorts of soirees. As a Hartwell, I was going to them as soon as I could properly hold a fork and eat like a lady. But it’s stupid that I’m even questioning this, seeing as I know why.
It’s because he will be there. So idiotic of me to have such a reaction to him. For some reason, I thought I’d be beyond such things as high school crushes when I started college, but I guess I’m wrong.
Leaning forward, I study my face in the mirror and touch up my makeup. No use dawdling much longer. If I’m late or miss the event, he’ll think he’s scared me off. I can’t let that happen. My hormones will just have to take a backseat.
You’re so emotional, my dad’s voice slithers through my brain, conjuring up a memory from when I was just a little girl. It’s just a flower. Flowers die. It’s a fact of life. Look at Augustus. He’s not crying. Go play in your room while we handle this.
Closing my eyes, my mind fast forwards several years. No need to cry, princess. Men come and go. He wasn’t a good financial match, anyway. Here, take my card and go buy yourself something pretty. That will make you happy. Right?
Loftry? Why do you need to go to college? A pretty girl like you can have any man she wants. In fact, I have it on good authority that the Cavanaugh boy has shown interest in you. Wouldn’t you rather just marry him and let him take care of you? You are a Hartwell, after all. Hartwell women don’t work. They spend their men’s money.
My cheeks burn as his laughter mingles with my brothers, flooding my head until that’s all that’s in there. Just a Hartwell. Good only to see and be seen. As I look at myself in the mirror, I glare at the reflection. I’m more than that. I’m far more than a pretty face.
Someday, he’ll see that. Everyone will see that. With a decisive nod, I head out to my car and glance over at the other dorms. Off in the distance, the twinkling lights of the Chi Sigma Delta sorority house catch my attention, glueing me to the spot for a moment.
It’s so odd that they didn’t hold a rush. All the other Greek houses held their rushes, but there was nothing from them. If I’d had the paper started by then, I would have done an article about all the options, but I guess there’s always next semester.
Still, it’s odd though. As interested as I am in covering this sham of a benefit dinner, there’s still something about that house that intrigues me. Glancing at my phone, I debate whether or not I should call Marnie and ask if she’s found out anything, but then I haven’t seen her all day.
Perhaps we can exchange notes while we’re in class tomorrow. A niggle of concern scratches at my brain as I slip into my car and drive over to the main atrium where the event is being held. It’s not like her to miss any classes, but I have no way of checking up on her.
She’s probably one of the most enigmatic people I’ve ever met. At first, I hoped she could be a friend, but as we got to know each other, she seemed like she’d be a strong ally. So far, she’s the only one at Loftry that actually seems interested in discussing conspiracy theories and talking about secret societies.
Everyone else just seems so bland in comparison. But like with most interesting people, the more fascinating they are, the odder they become. It’s as if each day was a new episode in paranoia. The way she kept glancing over her shoulder and refused to tell me anything about herself made me instantly suspicious.
But then, she seemed just as ravenous as me to figure out what those students did in the middle of the night. One of these days, we’ll go and stake them out, but first I’ll need to make sure I can fully trust her. Hell. I’ll need to make sure I can fully trust myself not to just accidentally expose us because I’m so excited.
One of these days...
A heavy sigh flits through my lips as I force my thoughts into tonight. The only thing I need to really make sure happens is that I don’t fall asleep. Compared to the idea of sneaking into an exclusive dorm, this dinner seems like a snooze fest. If anything, I’ll be able to tell Dad I was practicing being a member of high society.
At least, that’s how it appears once I pull into the parking lot. So many expensive cars fill the spots as people file in. That is, those who aren’t taking advantage of valet. Granted, I can easily afford it, but parking where I am allows me to observe without being readily seen.
It seems to be a gift of mine. That, or my gender, is what allows me to simply blend in and not stand out. Men always seem to underestimate me, and one day, I’ll learn to use that to my full advantage.
The instant I step out of my car, the men nearby stop and stare. So much for being completely invisible. I can almost feel the lust as it drifts off of them, making me feel exposed despite the luxurious fabric covering so much of me.
Their gazes drift up and down my body in a bold manner as they whistle out their appreciation. However, they don’t really do anything for me. No fluttering, no butterflies, nothing. It’s the same as I’m used to. A piece of meat they can’t wait to sink their teeth into.
It’s no hardship to ignore them as I gather my small notebook and pen and head toward the main door. Yet as my hips sway with every step, I feel their gazes follow. It’s predatory somehow, as if I’ve stepped into the lion’s den with not even a hint of protection.
Until this moment, I’ve never felt singularly unsafe at Loftry. This feeling is altogether different and unwelcome, one I’m tempted to write about in an upcoming issue. Forcing my gaze ahead of me, I keep note of how they follow and hold some strength in reserve for if I need to protect myself.
Sliding the edge of my car key between my fingers, I stride forward with purposeful steps, allowing my body language to show them I’m no victim. Whether or not they planned to harm me or if I somehow manage to convince them not to, I make it to the front steps without molestation.
Soft music tinkles out into the night, transforming what easily could have been a disastrous scene into something almost magical. All the other women look stunning in their designer gowns as they flit in and out of the doorway, telling me I did the right thing wearing my Rene Ruiz. Dad thought it was impractical to bring such an expensive dress to school with me, but I was right that I might need something fancy.
“Name?”
I glance up at the man guarding the door and give him the largest smile I can muster. “Hartwell. Ashleigh Hartwell.”
Normally, just saying my last name garners a look of intrigue at the very least and outright admiration at the most. This man, however, seems completely unaffected by me. For the second time this evening, I feel very ill at ease and out of place.
Honestly, just being a Hartwell should garner me access right away. Unfortunately, he stands there and slides his pen down the list of names as if I’m just some common school girl wanting to sneak in and attempt to hang out with the big boys. This just won’t do.
As much as I hate relying on my family to get things done, sometimes it’s the only way. My stomach drops to my feet as I contemplate what I need to do. Though I can certainly wait for Dean Anderson to come rescue me, I’d rather not if I can help it.
Sliding my perfectly manicured nail onto the top of the sheet, I tap it a few times, drawing his attention back to me. “I said, Ashleigh Hartwell. Daughter of Jackson and Emilia Hartwell? Surely there’s a spot for me.” Even as I say that and bat my eyes, my stomach churns, threatening to rebel.
With a soft clearing of his throat, he yanks the list away as if I’ve sullied it somehow. That was all for nothing, it seems. Typical that I would debase myself and have nothing to show for it.
“Mr. and Mrs. Hartwell are already inside. You, however, are not on the list. I’ll have to ask you to step aside.”
Why am I at all surprised to know they’ll be here? There’s no way they’re donating money on my behalf. No doubt, Dad doesn’t want me to upstage my brothers. I’m sure if he flashes enough cash, they’ll be transferred here by next semester.
Is it too much to want something just for me? It’s bad enough they steal my thunder at every passing moment, but to potentially upstage the one accomplishment I made on my own? Somehow it’s even worse than knowing I’ll be facing my parents far sooner than I planned.
Holding my head high, I move to step to the side when a warm hand grabs my arm and keeps me to the spot. I don’t even have to look to know it’s him. Dean Anderson’s spicy cologne swirls about my head, threatening to make my knees buckle. It’s the same as he wore earlier when he was paddling me, only now it’s refreshed and far more potent.
“Not running away so quickly, are you Miss Hartwell? I thought you were made of sterner stuff than that.”
I turn to face the man whose very presence torments me and plaster on a fake smile. “Seems as if my name was conveniently left off the list. I figured you’d rather I slip away than make a scene.” When his lips turn down into a fierce frown, my stomach flips, sending those butterflies back up my throat until I nearly choke on them.
“Not convenient. Last minute.” Leaning past me, he nods to the bouncer. “She’s with me. My plus one.”
“As you wish, Sir. Enjoy the evening.”
With a dashing smirk, he holds his arm out and waits for me to grab it before ushering us inside. Thankfully, he keeps his steps slow, so I don’t trip on the hem of my dress or somehow twist an ankle in these ridiculous heels. Yet, miraculously, even with them on, he towers over me. Next to him, I feel small but safe, a conundrum if I’ve ever had one.
“I was thinking you wouldn’t show. It’s not like you to be so late.”
“How do you know my proclivities? It’s not as if we’ve been to any other functions together.” My imagination plays tricks on me as I swear his pupils dilate a touch.
“No, but I do have access to all school records. You seem to be quite the over achiever who’s always in class far earlier than the others.”
Heat crawls up my neck as he brings me over to the table and holds out the chair for me. “Is it wrong to not want to have to rush or fight with others to get the best seat in the room?”
“No. It just makes me curious as to why you’d wait until the last minute to show up.”
My lips slip into a practiced smirk as I force my tone to remain even. “Well, it’s not as if I have to search for a seat, now do I? You already told me where I’d be sitting. I merely had to trust it would be available when I arrived.”
“Touché,” he laughs.
The rich, full-bodied sound travels through me, making everything clench in need. What the hell is wrong with me? I got off not that long ago. I should be good for at least a week or two.
Needing to distract myself, I glance about the room, studying the people there. Unfortunately, I end up locking eyes with my mother. If she’s at all shocked I’m here, she doesn’t show it. But then, she also doesn’t alert my father.
Instead, she places her hands on her shoulders and pushes them back, motioning for me to sit up straighter. Smothering a wince, I urge my back to become even more ramrod until she finally smiles and goes back to talking with those at her table. Pain lances through my body, but I grit my teeth and bare it.
I just have to get through tonight. As a Hartwell, it should be no difficulty at all. As just Ashleigh, a little bit more inside of me dies.