Chapter 5
FIVE
ASHER
Mr. Chapmans voice drones on and on, while my eyes are glued to a row down from me.
“A hegemon’s economic and military strength fosters innovation, safeguards trade, and swiftly addresses global crises.
However, others contend that concentrated power breeds tyranny and stifles the sovereignty of smaller nations,” The man up front may be boring the hell out of me, but he has the eye of every person in this room.
Except mine. No, all of my attention is given to the white-haired mystery in front of me.
In all honesty, even before Ruella joined the Academy, Mr. Chapman couldn’t keep me engaged like all the others falling at his feet.
He may be younger than most professors here and look like he just walked off of a Hugo Boss catwalk, but he still screams creep to me.
The girls here can’t see it. The lingering stares, the slight touches as he passes them, the fire I see behind his gaze when he catches something he likes.
Like I said, I have caught him screwing not one, not two, but three different students.
It was all consensual, I know because I made it my business to check in with the girls afterwards, but it still has me wanting to knock his teeth out.
His voice continues and I finally give him the time of day, reluctantly dragging my focus away from Ruella who chews on the end of her biro pen lid, completely engaged.
“In an era of shifting global influence, the question remains: is stability best achieved through the firm grip of a dominant power, or through the delicate equilibrium of many?” He is leaned against the edge of the table like a man who enjoys power, legs crossed out straight and hands gripping the wood either side of him.
I watch as his eyes lock with the stunner in front of me and my spine stiffens.
He licks his bottom lip slowly while assessing Ruella like prey.
I shift slightly to the side and catch his attention from behind her head.
After narrowing my focus and sending him my best ‘fucking try it’ face, he clears his throat and pushes off his desk.
I stand my ground until he looks away in defeat.
Ruella is still, no longer biting her pen but I can see the tension in her shoulders, so I have no doubt that she was aware of the stand-off she was caught between.
“You are going to debate a topic in groups for the rest of this session and next. I want people on both sides of the discussion and everyone to input. You will then have one week to write a paper on your own personal views on the matter and why,” My head turns from side to side making note of the people in my row.
Three girls from Deveraux house and a male transfer from St. Andrews.
Hopefully they have some brain cells, unfortunately with the money our parents throw at this place to get in, not everyone has the actual smarts to be here.
Nothing makes me angrier than people getting this just because of their parents or money.
I have more money than sense, and my grandkids’ kids will never have to work a day in their lives.
I come from one of the most powerful and wealthiest families in the UK, the Vander name is a vast conglomerate, with countless businesses and even more umbrella companies filling our pockets.
But don’t mistake me for another spoiled nepo-baby airhead.
I work hard, and I make sure I succeed in every aspect of my life.
I never used to be like this. Like so many others around me, I took the easy route, letting my money and family name open doors and get me what I wanted.
But that all changed the day I saw how disappointing my father truly was, in both his role within the family and the business.
His powerful position was inherited from his own father, just as I will inherit it from him in a few short years.
Yet when Magnus Vander took control, my father realized that coasting by, letting money do the talking, wouldn’t cut it in a company he didn’t truly understand.
My father is a poor leader, playing a quiet role while passing decisions to people who have no business making them. It makes my blood boil.
That was the moment I knew I had to change. I had to become the man my father never was. Because one day, that position will be mine. I don’t want to just coast through, I want to be great. I want to make a real difference. I want to be the best damn Vander the company has ever known.
“Rows one and two join, three and four then so on. You get it,” Mr. Chapman says while rounding his desk to pop a slide onto the board.
“Your question is…Hegemony or Cooperation: Is Global Stability Best Maintained Through a Dominant Superpower or a Multipolar World?" he claps his hands. “Go. Discuss,”
I glance down to my little vixen and smile as she shifts to turn around. I am in row four which means her row and my row are now working together for the next couple of days.
I smile as she registers that same little thought, then groans and rolls her eyes like a little brat. I like it.
“Why don’t you come and sit up here with me?” I question with a smirk. “I can squish up to make room on the bench. Or you could sit in my lap?”
“I’m good thanks,” Her brow furrows in disgust as she grabs her things then makes her way down to the only other girl on her row.
The brunette looks like a lost little mouse, shifting nervously as Ruella introduces herself.
I don’t even recognise the other girl which isn’t uncommon of me.
I only talk to the people I need to, there is no point in taking up brain space on those who don’t matter or enhance my life.
We all shuffle about until we are close enough to discuss, but just like the beginning of the class, my attention is on the girl trying to pretend I don’t exist.
“How long have you been here?” She asks the brunette.
“This will be my fifth year,” The girl replies timidly, then she clears her throat. “I had to re-sit a year,” Her cheeks redden before staring towards her hands.
“That will probably be me too,” Ruella laughs and the rasp of it sends a zap straight into my chest where it warms. I shake off the feeling. I might want her screaming my name as she writhes beneath me, but that’s all. I have more important things to worry about and empires to run.
I stay silent as the group around me argues back and forth about the best way to maintain global stability.
Ruella doesn’t input but she keeps asking questions to the brunette and the St. Andrews lad to the other side of her.
His floppy blonde hair falls onto his forehead covering thick bushy brows.
He is a similar height to me, but his build is slightly thinner, still toned but doesn’t have the same bulk.
After a few more questions I watch as the blonde whispers something in her ear and Ruella laughs totally carefree and it catches everyone’s attention.
“That doesn’t sound like part of a discussion, Miss?” Mr. Chapman interrupts from the front. Ruella stiffens and clamps her hands together on her lap.
“Griffith,” She replies while a slight redness raises onto her neck.
His eyes linger a little too long for my liking. “See me after class Miss Griffith,”
She nods and looks away.
“I’m so sorry” the blonde next to her whispers. “I didn’t mean to get you in trouble,”
“It’s okay. I’m used to it,” She smiles but there is a sadness there that wasn’t there before. It makes me want to ask her if she is okay, but then I remember I want to break her not be the thing to hold her together.
“I’ll wait for you, and we can go grab lunch. Yeah?” he questions her and then shifts to the brunette on the other side. “You too?” she looks shocked to be invited but nods with a smile.
“Yeah, that sounds nice. Thanks” Ruella answers, locking sight with me.
One brow arches slowly, and I catch the slight tightening of her fingers in her lap.
I flash her a wide grin, the kind that shows off teeth and the dimple I know has made girls blush more times than I can count.
But she doesn’t flinch. She just tilts her head, studying me like she’s reading a puzzle, one she’s certain she can solve.
I don’t like it. Not nearly as much as her bratty defiance from earlier. This is different. Calculated. Like she wants to peel me open and see what’s underneath.
For the first time in my life, I feel... exposed. Unsettled. And worse, I’m the one who looks away first.
Shit. What is it about this girl that throws me so off balance, yet makes me feel more alive than I’ve felt in years?
I spend the rest of the class pointedly ignoring her. Eyes forward. Walls up. I tell myself she’s nothing but trouble, and I’ve got more than enough of that in my life already.
Still, when the bell rings and students begin to drift out for lunch, I hang back near the Lecture Hall. In case she needs me.
It’s not about her. It’s Chapman I don’t trust. That’s all.
It has nothing to do with the strange pull I feel around her. Or the way she looks like the kind of girl who screams dirty money and danger. The last girl like that nearly ruined me.
I shake the thought from my head and lean back into the alcove a little past the door. The St. Andrews transfer and the quiet brunette are chatting a little further down the corridor, blissfully unaware I’m here. Ruella will be too.
Not unless she needs me.
***
RUELLA
My lecturer taps away at his laptop as I make my way down the steps toward his desk. He’s... unexpectedly attractive, far younger than I imagined a professor could be. Every girl in the room had their attention locked on him, lips parted, attention fixed like he was some kind of God.
But there’s something behind his eyes, something that makes my skin crawl, like a swarm of invisible ants creeping beneath the surface. No matter how much I try to shake it off, the sensation lingers until he finally looks away.
That same feeling prickles across my skin as his gaze lifts from the screen and lands on me.
“Miss Griffith,” he says, smiling. The expression softens his face enough to let me breathe again. “I understand you’re new and trying to make friends... but that needs to happen outside of my Lecture Hall,”
I nod. “I know. I am sorry for the interruption. It won’t happen again,” I didn’t realise getting told off for another’s actions would make me feel so insignificant again. It brought back all those times I was the one blamed for Marlowe’s mistakes and I haven’t been able to shake it off yet.
“I don’t see much about you academically on the records. Where were you before this?” he asks, leaning back into his leather chair with the ease of someone too used to being in control. His fingers rake through his slicked-back dark hair before he folds his arms across his chest, focus fixed on me.
“I didn’t,” I reply casually. “Took online classes for the first few years,”
“Oh?” He tilts his head. “Why was that?”
“Just... some family stuff,” I lie smoothly, forcing a small smile.
The truth is, I did take some online classes, but nothing like this. Everything in my file is part of a carefully constructed narrative. One that people with enough money can summon into existence with the click of a finger.
“I see,” he says, nodding slowly. “Well, if you ever need anything, don’t hesitate to reach out. Student portal or my office, whichever is easiest. I understand how overwhelming a place like this can be, and I’d like to see you do well here,”
His tone softens, and for a moment, he sounds genuine. It’s enough to make the knot in my chest loosen a little.
“Thank you. I appreciate that, Sir,”
I move toward the door, eager to escape. I need to find Deena. There’s something about her, something that pulled me across the room from the moment I saw her.
“Miss Griffith,” he calls again, his voice dipping, rougher, lower.
I turn.
His eyes are on my legs, and I watch as they lazily trace their way up my body. A slow, deliberate smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth, and his gaze slides back to mine with a heat that makes my skin crawl.
“As delightful as that outfit is,” he says, voice silk over steel, “it’s not proper uniform. You wouldn’t want Mr. Carmichael catching you like that,”
Then, with a flick of his tongue over his bottom lip, he turns back to his laptop, dismissing me without another word.
Taking my leave as quickly as I can I almost run into Corden, his hands catch my shoulders before I smack into his chest. “Wew,” He chuckles.
“You ready? I hear they have a sushi bar here and I am craving a California roll,” Corden pulls my arm to link through his elbow, not realising I am creeped out by the encounter with our teacher.
Before we make our way down the corridor I feel a hot fire on my back, one that sends a completely different shiver up my spine. One that feels delicious.
I glance over my shoulder and blink in confusion.
Asher is half hidden in a darkened alcove just passed the doorway into the Lecture Hall, he has a concerned look on his face as he scans me. The fist at the side of his body is clenched along with his jaw.
His emotion throws me, not in a bad way, but one I can’t understand.
I shake it off. Then give him the finger over my shoulder.
I watch as his brows raise towards his hairline and his cheeks lift with a smile. Then I round the corner with Deena and Corden with the deep sound of Asher’s chuckle vibrating down behind me.