Chapter 4
FOUR
MARA
I’m fuming. My pulse is still thrumming against my neck, jaw clenched so hard it aches. If I see his face again, I’ll probably claw his eyes out.
Dredyn Steele.
After last night, it’s official: the guy is a complete psychopath.
The only thing keeping me from going back up to him and assaulting him is the image of tomorrow’s newspapers and gossip blogs:
Senator’s Daughter in Fight Over Boy
My father’s furious face looms in my imagination.
I can’t afford to lose control like that. Not in public.
Not ever.
Instead, I spit a curse in Dredyn’s general direction—something along the lines of “Psychotic asshole!”—though he’s long gone when I’m forced to turn back around.
Zane reaches the library doors first, pulling one open with a dramatic bow as I brush past him.
He’s also an idiot—the only reason I was even in the OCK house last night.
But I’m too mad to point that out to him.
My heels click against the marble floor as I march toward our usual study spot—tucked away in the back corner between the law and European history sections.
The library at Ashen Grove University is nothing short of majestic. A cathedral of knowledge, as the pretentious professors like to call it. Vaulted ceilings and towering stained glass windows cast muted colors over floor-to-ceiling bookshelves.
Long study tables stretch across the main floor, with dim green banker’s lamps. The air smells of old books and faintly of coffee from the little barista in the corner.
“The fucking audacity!” I seethe, tossing my bag onto the table with a thump. “Who the hell does he think he is? Just… shoving people like a goddamn Neanderthal.” My outburst ricochets off the high ceilings, earning a few looks from others.
I drop into a plush leather armchair with a huff, and Zane floats down in his own chair across from me, legs crossed like a damn prince.
His hazel-green eyes are filled with pure fucking amusement, and I already know I’m going to regret not going right back to my dorm.
I fold my arms tightly while he lounges there, his elbows now propped up on the table, a large smirk across his face.
I hate that fucking look.
“You’re really worked up over this, babe.”
My eyes narrow. “Worked up?” I hiss. “That overgrown oaf shoved you like some—”
“Neanderthal. Yes… you used that word once already.”
I throw my hands up. “And you’re sitting here like it’s the funniest thing you’ve ever seen?”
Zane shrugs, completely unbothered. “I mean, yeah. A little.”
I groan, leaning back in my seat and massaging my temples because this whole headache of a conversation is giving me an actual migraine.
Zane, however, is thriving.
“Just saying, babe. It’s Dredyn Steele. Once he—or any member of OCK—has their eyes on someone like that… it’s game over.”
I freeze.
Slowly, I lower my hands from my temples, staring at him.
He meets my gaze, arching a knowing brow. Then he smirks that infuriating I know something you don’t smirk.
The urge to flip this entire table over and walk out is strong.
“Nope, we’re not doing this.” I shake my head, flipping my textbook open to a random page and pretending to begin reading it. “We are not playing the you-hate-him-but-you-secretly-want-to-fuck-him game, because I do not, under any circumstances, want to fuck him.”
Zane gasps, clutching his chest like I just insulted his entire bloodline. “Oh, honey, denial is such a nasty color on you.”
I shoot him a glare over the top of my book. “I hope you choke on an overpriced latte.”
Zane grins. “Kinky.”
“What?” I demand, flipping my page aggressively.
Zane leans forward on his elbows. “All right, let’s be real. The man’s a walking red flag—no arguments there.”
I scoff. “Oh, no arguments? That’s mature of you.”
He ignores me. “But, you can’t tell me that, if circumstances were different—if he wasn’t such a complete and total raging psychopath—that you wouldn’t—”
“Oh my God.” I groan loudly, cutting him off before he can finish that thought. I feel heat flaming over my cheeks. “Stop. Right now.”
He did not just go there.
I inhale sharply, gripping the edges of my textbook like I might physically use it as a weapon. “Let me make this abundantly clear. If I was the last woman on earth, and Dredyn Steele was the last man, and the fate of humanity depended on us procreating—”
“You’d ride him until the world stopped spinning?”
I gasp, loudly. So loudly that the librarian shoots us a warning glare. I slap a hand over my mouth. Zane, however, just winks at her. I don’t know if I want to die or murder him first.
But before I can throttle Zane, my phone vibrates against the table, the screen lighting up like a fucking beacon of doom.
Campaign Event – RSVP Confirmed
I stare at those words, dread pooling in my stomach.
Because, of course. Of course he’s making me do this.
Ten weeks. That’s how long until election night.
Seventy goddamn days until my life either continues in its meticulously-curated nightmare or implodes into something even worse.
Because in ten weeks, my father—Clark Black, America’s golden-boy politician, the man who can seemingly do no wrong—might just become the President of the United States.
And me?
Mara Black. America’s Sweetheart. The picture of grace, intelligence, and carefully-controlled poise.
The loyal, unwavering golden girl who never steps out of line, never says the wrong thing, never lets the mask slip.
I’m the pawn in my father’s perfectly-orchestrated image.
Nothing less than perfection was ever acceptable—straight A’s in school, immaculate behavior, an ever-present smile—because any slip might reflect poorly on him.
I’ve been playing this role since I could walk. The smiling toddler at podiums, bright-eyed and clueless. Every movement, every word, every breath I take is measured, calculated, rehearsed. Because the world isn’t just watching him. They’re watching me, too.
Every campaign dinner, every staged photo-op, every phony interaction with the political elite. Every moment I have to pretend I give a single shit about the people with enough money to buy their way into power is suffocating.
And I’m so fucking tired of the charades.
I don’t even bother checking what this latest event is; I already know.
Some hotel ballroom or historic mansion draped in red, white, and blue.
Tables set with thousand-dollar plates of food no one actually eats.
The same press-circuit vultures circling, snapping pictures, salivating for any hint of weakness.
My father’s hollow, practiced speeches delivered in that flawlessly authoritative tone that makes even people who should know better believe every word.
And me, standing at his side, smiling like I believe it too. My cheeks will ache from holding that polite expression in place for hours on end, even as my feet throb in whatever pinching heels match the dress my mother picked out for me.
Because if I don’t?
I become the headline.
“Mara Black Caught Looking Uninterested—Is She Rebelling Against Her Father’s Presidential Campaign?”
“America’s Golden Girl—Cracks in Perfection?”
“Is Mara Black an Asset or a Liability?”
They pick apart everything. The way I speak. The way I sit. The way I dress. The way I fucking breathe.
I can’t win. I’ve never been able to win.
I don’t even know who I am outside of their expectations anymore.
Did I ever? I wear so many masks that I’ve lost track of what my real face looks like.
The idea of finding out who I truly am, away from the cameras and expectations, feels more like a fantasy than something achievable.
“Let me guess,” Zane says, immediately noticing my thousand-yard stare. His playful smirk fades for a moment, genuine concern flickering in his eyes. “Dad?”
I release a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. “Unfortunately,” I mutter.
Zane watches me, expression gentling in a way that nearly undoes me. He opens his mouth, and for a second, I think I’m about to get actual sympathy, something that might crack the last bit of composure I’m clinging to. But then, just as quickly, he shifts back to his devilish grin.
“Don’t worry, babe. At least you’ll be too busy to stare at Dredyn Steele in disgusted awe.”
I blink, torn clean from my spiraling thoughts. A hot flare of you have GOT to be kidding me ignites in my chest. “You—” I sputter, at a loss for any other words.
He did not just go there, again.
Without thinking, I snatch the nearest item—my pen—and whip it at his stupidly gorgeous face.
Zane yelps and ducks. The pen sails past his ear and lands somewhere on the floor. He straightens with a scandalized hand over his heart, eyes wide in faux shock. “Did you just try to stab me, Mara?”
“Keep your voice down!” I hiss, though I’m fighting a losing battle against the tiny smirk tugging at my lips. The tension between us breaks, and I shake my head, giving Zane a withering look. “You are insufferable.”
He flashes a cheeky smile. “And yet, you adore me.”
I roll my eyes, biting back the retort on my tongue. There’s no point, he’ll always manage to get the last word. Instead, I focus on tamping down the wild cocktail of anger and anxiety swirling inside me.
I’m about to remind Zane that we really need to keep it down when two familiar figures sidle up to our table. Kade and Valen—two of my brother Milo’s fraternity officers appear at the end of our row.
Kade is built like a linebacker, all broad shoulders and protective big-brother energy, while Valen is lean and lanky, always quietly watching.
“Everything all right here, Mara?” Kade asks, eyes flicking from me to Zane and back. He bends to pick up the pen I just chucked, placing it gently on the table.
I sigh, slumping back in my chair. Great. The cavalry has arrived. “I’m fine,” I whisper, attempting a smile that probably looks more like a grimace. “Just peachy.”
Valen raises a brow, glancing between Zane and me. “Looked more like you were throwing deadly weapons,” he murmurs, a half-smile on his lips. I now notice he’s holding an extra coffee cup. He sets it in front of Zane. “Figured you might need a refill, Z.”
Zane lights up and accepts the latte, giving Valen an exaggerated flutter of his lashes. “Valen, you absolute lifesaver. See, Mara? Some people appreciate my caffeine dependence.”
I roll my eyes again, but I can’t deny a small swell of gratitude at seeing my brother’s friends here. “More like fueling a terrible addiction,” I mutter.
Kade pulls over an empty chair from a nearby table and settles beside me. Valen remains standing, leaning casually against a bookshelf.
“So, first, you go into the OCK house to get this one.” Valen points at Zane who just sips his coffee grinning. “And then, just now, Dredyn Steele shoved Zane. Please tell me I finally get the murder the smug bastard. You know it’ll take just one call to my dad.”
Of course Valen saw it. He has access to every security camera on campus and has alerts for when I’m spotted. Usually, if Zane is near me, Valen is watching. It’s a strange cat and mouse game they play.
Zane being the cat.
Valen being the mouse.
“I’m okay. He didn’t touch me. He just decided to play gorilla and manhandle Zane.”
“Still not okay,” Kade growls under his breath.
I can see the muscle in his jaw flexing.
I’ve only just met Kade at AGU. His family is DSN, but somehow he was allowed to pledge PTO and after lots of hazing…
he was allowed to join, despite my brother’s insistence that he be barred.
Even now, as an officer, my brother hates him.
But it doesn’t bother Kade. In fact, I’ve never met someone more unfazed by my brother’s unsettling moods.
“Asshole thinks he can do whatever he wants.”
“He definitely has a caveman complex,” Zane adds helpfully, stirring his latte with a little straw. “But honestly, guys, I’m fine. It was more shocking than painful.” He flashes a cheeky grin and flexes one slim arm in an exaggerated show of strength. “See? Still in one piece.”
Valen snorts. “Lucky for him. If I’d been there, not sure he would have fucking hands.”
“The last thing I need is you guys starting a war with Omega Chi.”
“Relax,” Valen says quickly. “We don’t start wars we can’t win. Unlike others.”
Kade reaches out and gives my shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “But seriously, Mara, if that prick ever lays a finger on you—”
“He won’t,” I cut in firmly, placing my hand over Kade’s for a brief moment. “I’m steering clear of him. And I don’t want anyone fighting my battles for me or causing more trouble on my behalf. Promise me, okay? No retaliation. This dies here.”
Kade finally lets out a long breath. “All right,” he concedes reluctantly. “If that’s what you want. Milo’s not gonna be happy about letting it go, but he’ll stand down if you insist.”
“Thank you.” I sigh, relief evident in my voice. The last thing I need is a full-blown frat feud turning into tabloid fodder. I can see it now:
Political Candidate’s Son in Campus Brawl
Yeah, no thanks.
“For the record, though, I’d have paid good money to see you knock Dredyn on his ass,” Valen adds with a smirk.
A quiet huff of laughter escapes me, and I feel the tight knot in my chest ease a little. “Don’t tempt me. The thought definitely crossed my mind.”
“Damn right it did,” Zane chimes in with a proud grin. “You should’ve seen her, guys. Five more seconds and she would’ve gone full WWE SmackDown on him.”
“Anyway,” I say softly, drawing the conversation back. “I have studying to do.”
Valen’s gaze drifts to my still-lit phone screen on the table. He frowns when he catches sight of the time. “We gotta go, Kade.”
Kade nods firmly. “All right, fine. But, Mara? We’ve got your back, okay?”
Valen nudges my arm gently. “If you ever need to escape, you know our house is your house. We’ll kick all the brothers out of the living room, line up some cheesy rom-coms—whatever you need to unplug.”
Kade taps the table for emphasis. “Seriously. Say the word, and we’re there.”
I blink down at my hands, fiddling with the corner of a notebook. “Thanks,” I manage, voice a little unsteady.
Kade stands as well, stretching his arms over his head. “Zane, get some food in her. You’re not getting any studying done in your state anyway.” He nods pointedly at my still-closed textbook.
He’s not wrong. With a defeated sigh, I gather up my notes and shove them into my bag. “Fine.”