Chapter 1 #2
His eyes were ice blue, sharp and dissecting. They didn't sweep over me like the other men; they locked onto me. I felt the weight of his gaze physically, a heavy press against my chest. He wasn’t looking at my tray. He was looking at my face. He saw me.
A shiver raced down my spine, hot and terrifying. I looked away quickly, my heart hammering against my ribs. Don't engage. He’s the King of the Silverbacks. He’s royalty. You are the help.
I pushed through the swinging doors into the service hallway, desperate for a moment of silence.
The hallway was narrower, cluttered with racks of glassware and stressed catering managers shouting into headsets. I leaned against the wall, closing my eyes for a second, trying to steady my breathing.
"Well, well. Look what we have here."
My eyes snapped open.
Standing in front of me, blocking the path back to the ballroom, was a man I recognized vaguely. Older. Mid-fifties. Red face, loosened tie. One of the 'Gold Circle' donors. He reeked of gin.
"Can I help you, sir?" I asked, gripping my empty tray against my chest like a shield. "The restrooms are down the other hall."
He stepped closer, invading my personal space. "You’re the Moretti girl, aren't you? The little dancer."
My stomach dropped. "I’m working, sir. Please excuse me."
I tried to sidestep him, but he moved faster than a drunk man should. His hand shot out, clamping around my upper arm. His fingers dug into my bicep, painful and possessive.
"Don't be rude," he slurred, his wet gaze dropping to my chest. "Your daddy cost this school a lot of money. Seems like you owe us a little payback. Why don't you come find me after your shift? I can be... generous."
The implication hung in the air, slimy and suffocating. Rage, white-hot and blinding, flared in my chest. It burned away the fear. It burned away the 'Good Girl' armor I had worn for three years.
"Let go of me," I said, my voice low and steady.
He laughed, tightening his grip. "Or what? You’ll tell? Who’s going to believe a thief’s daughter over a—"
I didn't let him finish.
I dropped the silver tray. It clattered to the floor with a deafening crash. In the same motion, I drove my knee upward, hard and fast, burying it directly into his groin.
It was a perfect movement. Efficient. Brutal.
The donor made a sound like a deflating balloon. His eyes bulged, his grip released, and he crumpled to the carpet, wheezing and clutching himself.
I stood over him, my chest heaving, my hands trembling into fists. I had just assaulted a donor. I was dead. I was expelled. I was going to jail.
"Impressive form."
The deep voice came from the shadows behind me.
I spun around. Elijah Vance was leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest. He hadn't just arrived. He had been watching.
My breath caught in my throat. "He touched me."
Elijah pushed off the wall and walked toward us. He moved with a predator’s grace, silent and terrifying. He stepped over the groaning man on the floor as if he were a piece of trash.
He stopped inches from me. He smelled like winter and expensive leather. He towered over me, forcing me to crane my neck to meet his eyes. Up close, they were even colder. There was no pity in them. No concern.
Just calculation.
"He touched you," Elijah repeated, his voice devoid of emotion. "And you assaulted a guest of the University. A man who donated a new library wing last year."
"He grabbed me!" I argued, panic rising in my throat. "I was defending myself!"
"You created a scene," Elijah corrected softly. He looked down at the man, then back at me. "Mr. Henderson is a drunk and a lecher, but he is powerful. You are... nobody."
The cruelty of it slapped me harder than a hand.
"Are you going to help him?" I spat, nodding at the man on the floor.
"No," Elijah said. "I'm going to fire you."
I froze. "What?"
"I’m on the student conduct committee for the gala," he lied—or maybe he didn't. He spoke with the absolute authority of someone who made the rules. "Violence against a donor is grounds for immediate termination. You’re done, Moretti. Get out."
"You can't be serious," I whispered, tears finally spilling over. "I need this job. You don't understand—"
"I don't care," he interrupted. He leaned down, his face inches from mine. His voice dropped to a dangerous, intimate whisper that vibrated through my bones. "You are reckless. You are emotional. And you are a liability. Leave the premises now, or I’ll have security drag you out."
He wasn't angry. He looked... stimulated. His pupils were dilated, swallowing the blue iris. He was enjoying this. He was enjoying crushing me.
I looked at him, really looked at him, and saw the monster beneath the tuxedo.
"Go to hell, Vance," I hissed.
I stepped over the wheezing donor and stormed out the back exit, pushing through the heavy doors into the freezing night.
Elijah
I watched her go.
I watched the fire in her eyes as she told me to go to hell. It was the most beautiful thing I had seen in years.
Most people cowered when I exerted pressure. They apologized, they begged, they broke. Angela Moretti didn't break. She lashed out. She had spirit.
She was perfect.
I looked down at Henderson, who was still gasping for air on the carpet.
"You're pathetic, Henderson," I said casually, taking a sip of my scotch.
"She... she hit me..." he wheezed. "Get her... expelled..."
"Oh, she’s already gone," I said, nudging his leg with the toe of my patent leather shoe. "And if you mention this to anyone—if you even whisper her name—I’ll have my father pull the equity funding from your tech startup by Monday morning. You’ll be bankrupt before you can ice your balls."
Henderson’s eyes widened in terror. He nodded frantically.
I turned and walked back toward the ballroom.
Phase one was complete. I had stripped her of her job. My father had stripped her of her scholarship. By tomorrow morning, the reality of her situation would set in. She would be desperate. She would be out of options.
And she would come to me.
I pulled my phone from my pocket and dialed my personal assistant.
"Prepare the contract," I said into the receiver, my eyes fixed on the spot where she had disappeared into the snow. "And have the Red Room cleaned. I’m going to have a guest for the season."
I hung up.
The hunt was over. The game had just begun.