Chapter 2 #2
I forced myself to tear my eyes from his. “Seriously, though, how do I know I can trust you?”
“You don’t.” He shrugged.
I huffed in frustration. “Why don’t you tell me something about yourself. Something that will show me I can trust you.”
“Like what?”
I ground my jaw. Was he trying to be irritating? “Tell me why you transferred to Ouverham.”
Reluctance flashed in his gaze. Then, almost as quickly as the emotion vanished, it was replaced by a cool mask of indifference.
“Same reason as you,” he said coolly.
He was evading the question. Interesting.
I leveled him with an icy glare. “Oh, really? So, your father also left you a scholarship when he died?”
“No,” Casimir admitted. “That’s not why I transferred here.” With a sly look on his face, he leaned in closer and whispered conspiratorially, “I hear the off-campus party scene is something straight out of a Bacchanalian revel.”
I snorted, but he wasn’t wrong. Ouverham was notorious for its wild off-campus parties, thrown by members of the Gilded Circle, the college’s most elite society.
“The parties might be wild,” I conceded. Not that I would know. With my nonexistent legacy, I was not likely to receive an invitation to one, but I wasn’t surprised Casimir had heard of them.
Rumors of secret society activities at Ouverham weren’t mere gossip—the reality was far more sinister than even a deranged outsider could imagine.
Hazing and blackout-induced deaths were common, as were induction rituals that often ended in trips to the infirmary, all neatly covered up by a corrupt administration.
I studied him closely, as though peeling back a mask. “I’ve never heard the name Wrayburn. So, unless you’re some long-lost legacy, I doubt you’ll be invited to many Gilded parties.” I didn’t bother to hide my sneer.
“Oh, don’t worry about me.” He fixed me with a dazzling smile. “I’ll be just fine.”
I frowned at his overconfidence, but I had to admit—he was charming. And good-looking enough that he’d probably get invited despite not belonging to a well-connected family.
“I don’t understand,” Casimir continued. “If you knew how horrible this place was, why did you agree to take the scholarship?”
I clenched my teeth. “Why do you think? I couldn’t afford to go anywhere else. None of the other universities I applied to offered me financial aid. Besides, what would people think if Malcolm Flynch’s only daughter refused his inheritance?” They’d think I was an ungrateful brat.
“Still, you agreed to come.” He shrugged. “You didn’t have to go to college.” Despite my scowl, he continued, “Maybe some part of you relished the challenge. Maybe you wanted to prove them wrong.”
I glared at him, not bothering to conceal my hostility. Really, the audacity of this fucking guy. He didn’t know me at all.
My father had admired Ouverham for its ghastly notoriety.
Being accepted to such an exclusive, gossiped-about institution had validated his deepest insecurities—his fears of being forgotten and irrelevant.
From its ostentatious architecture to its dramatic coastline, the campus and its inhabitants were designed to be seen and revered.
It was the kind of place where secret societies were born and powerful people were made.
Like the smallest of creatures who resided in the island’s harsh tidepools, the scholarship kids had to develop a hard exterior to survive in such an environment.
If someone had told me two years ago that I’d end up enrolled at my father’s alma mater, I would’ve laughed in their face.
But after my father’s funeral, I’d been too numb with grief to understand how his death would change my life trajectory.
Had I known when I made my ambitious plans to flee to California that my father had left a scholarship in my name—things might have been different.
I might have found time to figure a way out of it.
“You don’t know shit,” I replied coldly.
Unfazed by my hostility, Casimir simply shrugged, drew a gold case from the inside pocket of his leather jacket, and lit a cigarette with a click of his lighter. Smoke curled from his nostrils, reminding me of a dragon. There was a glint of humor in his eyes that told me he was enjoying this.
“You can’t smoke in here,” I admonished. I was really starting to sound like an old schoolmarm, but I didn’t care.
Casimir blew a cloud of smoke toward me. “Who are you, the hall monitor?” he snickered.
His haughty demeanor was grating on my patience, but for some reason, I couldn’t bring myself to leave just yet.
Everything about Casimir Wrayburn was calculated arrogance and charisma, and yet he possessed an inexplicably magnetic quality that drew me in, rooting me to the spot.
“You never answered my question,” I pointed out. “Why did you transfer here?”
He took a long drag, surveying me over his cigarette before he shrugged and replied, “Like I said, I came for the parties.”
My gaze narrowed on him in suspicion. “Is that so?” I allowed my skepticism bleed into my tone.
My instincts told me that Casimir was lying, and yet the air between us was remarkably devoid of ash—not even the barest ember that might indicate deception. Only the heady scent of smoke, leather, and the dust of aging books lingered.
Part of my power lay in the fact that no one else, apart from my mother and Gwen, knew about my little “gift,” and I certainly wasn’t about to reveal it to Casimir.
Until now, I had never encountered anyone who evaded my detection abilities, and the whole thing bothered me more than I cared to admit.
Maybe he was telling the truth? I examined his face, searching for traces of deception, but those dark eyes gave nothing away.
And yet, despite the alleged truth of his words given the absence of ash on my tongue—I couldn’t shake the feeling that he couldn’t be trusted.
And that was going to be a problem.
I cleared my throat and said stiffly, “I should be getting back to my dorm. It’s late.” To underline the point, I glanced at my wristwatch. It was one o’clock in the morning.
Casimir raised his brows at my brusque manner, a hint of a smirk lurking at the corners of his mouth. He took a final drag on his cigarette before tamping it out on the mahogany table, his eyes never leaving my face.
“I hope to run into you again sometime, Arden Farrow.”
I shivered at the sound of my name on his lips. I gave him an awkward nod and all but ran toward the staircase, my spine prickling.
I didn’t turn back to see if he followed.