Chapter 5
five
Something is off. A lingering bitter scent on my pillow. Crust on my cheek. Did I…drool that much last night?
My alarm blares, and I hurry to turn it off, stretching my body. No time to rest and reflect. Bending, I snatch my butterfly wing from the floor and toss it in the nightstand drawer, but then pause. It’s different. Not as smooth and appears much smaller.
Is this a new butterfly wing?
Hurriedly, I dart my eyes around my room. Nothing’s out of place, but the space feels…inhabited. Like something lingered. Instead of shutting the drawer, I sneak a peek at the contents. Perhaps my diary has moved.
With shaky fingers, I lift the cover and flip through the pages. My heart stutters when I reach the last one…
A detailed Monarch wing has been inked, along with a cryptic message.
Vanq.
Pounding on the door startles me until I jump. “Y-Yes?”
“Olivia! You have to look at this. The catering schedule is not right.”
I close my eyes and take a deep, cleansing breath, then throw on my robe and head to the door. Sora, our secretary, saunters inside while tapping repeatedly on a tablet. “They said they would charge us less than this for the party, and now—”
“I’m sorry, Sora. Can we talk about it after the luncheon? I don’t want to be late.”
“Oh, shit! I forgot that it was today. Do you think you’ll be able to change this before tonight’s meeting?”
Placing a professional smile on my face, I try not to think about my upcoming midterm grades. The paper I have due. Data I need to collect for my senior project. And asking my best friend what’s wrong with her. “Yes, of course I can do that. Probably around four this afternoon, okay?”
Ever the task-oriented robot, Sora nods and drops the subject—a rarity—and I finally relax some tension in my shoulders. “I’ll come back at four p.m. sharp!”
“Great.”
I rush to the shower. Only hours have passed since my last one, but I’m still unclean…
Dirt lingers beneath my skin, and everything has to be perfect.
If I keep Naomi by my side and do my makeup well enough, I could avoid letting anyone see the cracks in my countenance. Because if I slow down now, I’ll break.
Images from last night threaten to fracture my psyche. The bodies. The blood… Was it real? And if it was…
Why did the masked man let me go?
Hurriedly, I grab my phone and delete the video from everywhere, even from the trash files, then shoot off a text to Hunter as an alibi.
Me
Where are you?
There. That’s what a concerned girlfriend would do. If anyone asks where he is, I can claim I don’t know.
Pink suit in place. Pumps polished. Lips plumped. I set my shoulders back and head down the curved marble staircase where Naomi and Malik wait.
“You look gorgeous, darling,” Naomi says with an exaggerated cheek kiss.
“Where’s your boy?” Malik Thornton, Theta member and heir to a literal gold mine, asks, as if he actually wants Hunter to show.
“I’m not sure… I guess I’ll see him there.” I pull out my phone, pretending I’m just checking messages and not steadying the shake in my hand. “He-he wasn’t answering his texts earlier.”
They shrug like it’s not a big deal. As if the boy I’m supposed to love not texting me back is expected.
We head toward the president’s house on the far side of campus, and I focus on each step like the earth might crumble beneath me. Keep it together, Olivia.
It’s a familiar and daunting sight, the garish entryway into opulence.
Guests file through the foyer into an overly decorated parlor leading to a light-filled conservatory.
An old bar takes up the stretch of the far wall, which is where most of the board members cluster.
Including my father, Xavier Cardell, CEO of Cardell Enterprises, who greets me with a forehead kiss.
“Where’s Hunter?” There’s no escaping Dad’s piercing blue eyes. I worry he sees everything. Because he usually does.
But I give him my best loving daughter smile while glancing around the room. “Is he not here yet? I thought he would be. Well, maybe he’ll show up soon.”
“Are you two not getting along?” His jaw tightens with hope, I’m sure. It’s not a secret that he and my brothers hate the man. Well, hated…
My chest tightens with panic until I turn away from his penetrating gaze. “Fine, yes.”
Slipping away from him, I mingle deeper into the crowd, spotting a few regulars from my classes and Greek Life. Naomi and Malik are busy talking with the president, and I try to weave through the chatting guests to get to them…so I’m not alone.
The thickness of people becomes too much. It’s difficult to breathe. Despite it being October, the air feels humid. I aim for an open door near the back of the room, hoping to find some space.
As I do, I spot a woman I’ve been trying to avoid. The light catches her gleaming blonde hair as she turns her head, and I dash toward whatever room is in front of me. At the raised threshold, I trip over the edge of a rug, dropping my bag and all of its contents.
A tall figure bends to scoop everything up before I can even make a move.
“I’m so sorry!” I exclaim.
With a bright smile, the man lifts his face to me. He’s cute. Not like a model with dangerous looks, but in a way that makes me feel immediately warm inside.
Freckles dash across his straight nose, and sandy-colored hair flounces on the top of his head in a messy pile that looks as if he tried hard to tame it. The shimmer in his green eyes makes me feel safe. Or maybe I just want it to…
“Why?” he asks, as if he’s going to tell me a children’s joke.
My brow pinches. “Why, what?”
“Why are you sorry? That fucking rug should be sorry. Want me to burn it for you? Show it why it should never have gotten in your way? Teach it a lesson in consent?”
I giggle, and his smile broadens until he’s laughing with me. When he stands and hands me my purse, I shrug. “Maybe after the party, so no one suspects you did it.”
“Good idea.” He stuffs his hands in his pockets, and we stare at each other for an awkward moment. “You’re Olivia, right?”
“Yeah…” Hurriedly, I try to place him. He’s not Theta. Not enough tattoos to be a Delta. Is he a Beta initiate I haven’t met yet?
“I’m Elliot. I’m in your stats class.”
“Are you not in Beta?”
His cheeks flame with a pink blush like he’s embarrassed. And it’s so adorable, I feel bad for even asking the question.
With a deep breath, he opens his mouth wide. “Oh, um. No. I’m not in Greek Life.”
“You may be smarter than all of us, then.”
A stubborn part of me—quiet and buried—registers disappointment. He’s not the one. Not the man I’m meant to be appointed to. Not the one selected by the board. He’s probably not wealthy enough for my father. And definitely not Viscount enough for Seventh Society.
They prize blood and wealth, but obedience above all.
Guilt immediately makes me regret even having those thoughts. I just witnessed my boyfriend get his throat cut open. What kind of a slut is already imagining a sordid romance with a boy she meets the next day?
He waves a palm across the room. “Want a drink? I dipped in here when I saw the caterer leave a tray of bourbon.”
I glance inside the room, which appears to be a library. “Sure. You’re a rebel, huh? Sneaking in to get the good stuff.”
His grin returns, but this time, there’s a hint of flirtiness to it. It’s almost wicked. “You got me. Although this is probably the most risk I’ve taken in quite some time.”
Shoving the sleeves of his olive-green sweater up his arms reveals some flexing muscle. Veiny. And I shift my gaze away to stop the heat rising inside my body.
“Here you go.”
When he hands me a glass, our fingers touch, and it sends a zing of electricity all the way up my arm. I meet his eyes to see if he felt it, too. His smile flickers, gone for a split second before it returns.
“So what are you doing here, if you’re not in Greek Life?” I ask.
He leans against the large oak desk and opens his mouth to speak, but a waiter interrupts by snagging the tray behind him. With a sneer, the suited man glares at Elliot as if he stole the drinks.
“Fucking rich pricks,” the server murmurs under his breath as he scurries out the door, but not without giving me a pointed look.
“Well, Olivia,” Elliot begins with a tiny smirk on the corners of his lips. “I’m here because I’m a rich prick.”
I toss my head back and laugh, then take a sip of my drink. The burning sting takes my mind off the stress. But it’s not just the alcohol…the guy standing in front of me has such a casual stance that it puts me at ease.
“Miss Cardell? There you are. I believe Dean Rutherford is looking for you.”
My throat constricts until it’s difficult to swallow, but I nod. “Coming!”
Elliot raises his glass to me and says, “I’ll see you in class.”
“Yeah, see you.”
Walking back toward the busy living room makes my pulse pound harder. In the middle of a group of suited men, I lift onto my toes to try to find the one I’m looking for.
Someone grabs my forearm until I’m halted in position. “And this is Olivia Cardell, president of ONE and Dean’s List regular. Future president of the university.”
When I look up, my stomach drops. Every muscle in my body shakes as I get a sense of the face standing in front of me. Because I don’t dare look directly at it.
“Olivia?” Dean Rutherford asks as he pats the back of my hand.
Without my bidding, my lips form a solid smile. My eyes light up. And despite it only coming out barely as a whisper, my voice doesn’t waver as I take the offered hand in front of me. “Yes, thank you for such a greeting, Dean. Honored to meet you, mister…”
“Reginold Blackwell.” He lifts my hand to his lips and presses them there. I almost vomit on his black leather shoes.
“Representative Blackwell.” The dean of the college of business corrects him.
“Oh, how wonderful.” The words escape my throat, but it’s as if someone else says them.
I focus on the top button of his shirt. The gullet of his double chin wobbles as he says, “I was hoping to meet you so I could invite you to my summer internship.”
Dean Rutherford chuckles, then pats him on the arm. “I’ll let you two talk shop.”
With a frantic look around, I can’t find anyone. No one is there to help me. The woman I avoided earlier expertly ignores her husband, cornering his latest victim with a swift flip of her blonde head.
He takes a sure step. My back presses against the cold wall, but I still feel too warm. Too exposed. My throat tightens around a scream I’m not allowed to release. No one notices. No one ever does. Because I’m Olivia Cardell. The one who always smiles.
My mouth goes dry. His scent. His taste floods my memories. I’m locked in one position. Help me, I scream inside.
But I have to remain quiet.
He knows I won’t say anything. That’s what makes me his favorite kind of girl.
“Good to see you again, sweetheart. Still keeping your mouth shut like a good servant of Caliphylla? I do miss our little…agreements.”
“I can’t…” I whisper.
“Sure, you can. I have that internship coming up. If you’d like a spot on a winning team, one that would see you getting to the top where all your dreams will come true, I hope to see you in my office…again.”
His arm reaches for me to touch the side of my face. Instinctively, I grab his wrist along with his watch. It ticks almost as loud as my heart as he leans in and whispers, “God, I miss your virgin blood on my dick.” Nausea riles through my belly as he strokes his thumb across my cheek.
With tears heating my eyes, I dart under his arm and hurry to the conservatory before I lose it. Before anyone sees the cracks spiderwebbing through my smile, threatening to shatter me into a thousand gleaming shards.
A trickling fountain seems like the best spot for reprieve, and I turn my heels toward it. Flames light up my skin. My jaw tightens. The fear transforms into rage. I hold up his Rolex that I just slipped off his wrist and dangle it over the water.
“Guess you’ll have to find a new toy.” Then, I drop it in, watching the koi fish play with their new treasure.
Movement catches my eye. Elliot stands in the corner of the room with a knowing smirk. He raises his glass to me like a toast—not to survival, but to the girl who just bit back.
Then he nods once.
Like we share a secret.