Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Bea’s first official week of classes passed in a blur. Her planner was already half full of readings, assignments, and scribbled notes.
The campus itself felt endless. Elegant stone buildings gave way to sleek glass structures. Winding paths were shaded by perfectly trimmed trees. Conversations drifted past beneath designer sunglasses and limited-edition sneakers.
Bea felt like an outsider, but that was fine for now. She’d expected it. It just meant she’d have to work harder, and she was ready for that.
She had crossed the main lawn, reviewing her next lecture location on her phone, when she rounded a corner…and collided into something solid.
Someone solid.
Books slipped from her hands. She stumbled. Strong hands caught her arms. Clean, masculine scent.
She looked up—straight into the face of wicked allure. Rafael.
His fingers lingered a second longer than necessary before he let her go.
“Careful, little Bea,” he murmured. “Don’t get hurt in your first week.”
“I’m fine,” she said quickly, dropping down to gather her things.
He crouched smoothly beside her, picking up her pen. “You seem in a rush.”
“Week one,” she muttered. “My classes are all over the place.”
“Then I won’t keep you.”
Except…he didn’t move.
Bea clutched her books to her chest as she rose awkwardly. “Was there something else?”
He stood. “Drinks tonight.”
“What?”
Rafael smiled. Slow and lazy. “One drink. I’ll even behave.”
Some part of her wanted to say yes. But it felt like a trap. She knew it wouldn’t just be one drink. Not with a man like Rafael.
It would be a line crossed. A door opened.
And she’d worked too hard to do something so foolish.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
His tongue pressed briefly to the inside of his cheek. “Then you definitely should.”
Ugh. She felt that. Low and deep and reckless.
“I’m new. I’ve got a lot to catch up on.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll only distract you a little.”
Bea laughed, but the sound came out light in the weight of his presence. “I doubt that.”
Rafael leaned in and said, in a low tone wrapped in warmth, “If you insist. I’ll distract you a lot.”
Bea stepped back, before she lost her wits, and any will she had left to say no. “I really do have class.”
Could he see right through her? She needed to leave.
Finally, he let her go.
Bea walked away without looking back. But she felt the heat of his gaze all over her all the way down the path.
Bea collapsed onto the couch, kicking her feet up on the coffee table with a dramatic sigh. “I think my brain is melting.”
Georgina, curled up in the armchair with her laptop balanced on her knees, flashed a grin. “That’s a good sign. Means you’re actually using it.”
Bea groaned, draping an arm over her eyes. “St. Ives is trying to kill me. And it’s only been a week.”
“You’ll survive. Besides, you love it.”
Bea peeked out from under her arm, lips twitching despite herself. Georgina wasn’t wrong. “Maybe. I must be a masochist.”
Georgina stretched her neck lightly, reaching for her phone. “Welcome to the big leagues.”
Bea fiddled with the edge of a throw pillow. “I got asked out today.”
“By?”
“Rafael Griffin.”
Georgina’s mouth curved. “Makes sense.”
“You know him well?”
“I know enough. He has a reputation for being…intense. Selective. Up for a challenge.”
Bea wasn’t sure if she should feel flattered or alarmed. “Sounds dangerous.”
“Sometimes dangerous is fun. Just don’t mistake him for harmless.”
After a pause that was filled only with the sound of Georgina’s fingers clacking against the keyboard, Bea asked, “What about Gage?”
“What about him?” Georgina said without looking up.
Bea shrugged. “I mean, how can I not be curious? He’s Gage King.”
Her housemate’s lips tilted as she looked at her sidelong. “Gage is…different.”
“Helpful,” Bea deadpanned.
Georgina’s smile was knowing. “Smart. Scary disciplined. His life’s on a schedule, and if it’s not worth his time, he has no interest. That’s why I was surprised when you said he sat down at your table the other day.”
“Why?”
Georgina leaned in. “Because he doesn’t do that. Gage isn’t rude, but he doesn’t entertain things unless he’s curious.”
Bea looked down at the pillow, her fingers absently twisting the corner.
He’s curious about me.
That was…unexpected. And not entirely unwelcome.
Before she could chase that thought too far down the rabbit hole, Georgina’s phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen, then grinned. “Well, that’s convenient.”
“What?”
Georgie held up her phone. “We’re invited to Gage’s birthday dinner next Saturday.”
“We?”
“Yep. Dinner, drinks, a bunch of rich men trying to outmaneuver each other. You’ll love it.”
Bea folded her lips. A night surrounded by people who moved through this world like they owned it—because most of them did—while she was still learning the rules. Maybe she should pace herself before diving straight into the deep end.
She stalled. “He’s turning…”
“Twenty-six.”
Bea frowned, calculating. “Isn’t that a little old?”
“What?” Georgina blinked, then looked closer at Bea’s expression. “Oh. Right. The men here go straight from high school into three years of compulsory military training before college.”
“Ah.” She’d read that but forgotten.
“So, you’re in?” Georgina pressed.
“I don’t…know if I should go.”
“Obviously, you should go.”
Bea wrinkled her nose. “It’s not exactly my crowd.”
“Bea. Please. You’re already in.”
“In what?”
“Whatever this is.” She waved her hand vaguely.
Bea’s stomach flipped. What was this? All she knew was that, impossibly, she’d become someone Gage King invited to something.
A collision of excitement and caution thrummed in her chest, sending aftershocks all through her.
“What kind of gift does someone even buy for a man like Gage?”
“I hear virgin sacrifices are all the rage.”
Bea snorted a laugh. “Georgie!”
“No, seriously.” She put her phone down. “This tangent is worth exploring. How does someone as pretty as you make it to nearly twenty-two without even an ex worth avoiding?”
“Too much fiction,” Bea admitted. “Claire actually started confiscating my books freshman year. My library fines got so high, it was financially irresponsible to continue.”
“I feel like I’d like Claire.” Georgina chuckled. “Okay, favorite hero. And make him mainstream. I’ve read more scripts than novels.”
“Gilbert Blythe.”
“I mean…yeah. But surprise me.”
Bea tilted her head. “Rhett Butler.”
“Oof. Bold choice. We’ll dissect that staircase scene over wine one night. What about Austen?”
“Captain Wentworth.”
Georgina lit up. “Now we’re talking. Frederick Wentworth with a side of warm apple pie? Yes, please.”
Bea sighed. “When you grow up with unfettered access to books, you accidentally self-sabotage by developing standards no real man can meet.”
Georgie thought for a moment. “Based on those three? You definitely have a type. Smart, loyal, self-made. Able to endure suffering while she takes the scenic route back to him.”
Bea blinked. “Okay. That was disturbingly accurate.”
Georgina’s expression was pure mischief. “It’s going to be so fun being your housemate this year.”
“That must be why we were paired. You need in-home entertainment.”
“And you need a place where your hero lives and breathes. Funny how life knows exactly where to send you.” Georgina’s blue eyes gleamed.
Bea scoffed lightly. “Even if the hero did come along, I’m not sure I’d know what to do with him. It’s like I’ve read every manual, watched every training video, but I’ve never actually driven the car.”
“I’ll be your crash-test dummy. We can work out the kinks.”
“You say that now. Don’t regret it when I accidentally drive into a wall.”
“Bring it.” Georgina checked the time on her phone, as if suddenly realizing she had somewhere to be. “Anyway, back to Gage’s birthday. Chip in on my gift and we’ll sign the card together. Honestly, he can buy himself whatever he wants anyway. The gift is the least of your worries.”
Georgie paused, all seriousness.
“I’m going to give you the most important—maybe the only—piece of advice you’ll ever need for these types of things.”
“I’m listening.”
“Wear something hot.”
Bea grabbed the nearest pillow and launched it at her.
Bea stepped out of the lecture hall, weaving through the steady stream of students filling the corridor. Honeyed light slanted through the archways, casting pale gold across the stone floor.
Small groups clustered together in visible cliques. She hadn’t quite found where she belonged yet. Tried not to let that bother her.
She walked past a pair of girls wearing outfits from the front pages of Harper’s Bazaar. She wasn’t eavesdropping, but it was impossible not to hear.
“It’s not the scholarships that bother me. It’s the presentation.”
“There should be a separate track for them. Or at the very least, standards.”
“Raising diversity I understand. But don’t dilute the brand.”
Soft laughter followed. Elegant, entitled.
Bea’s jaw set.
Not worth it. Just keep walking.
She was nearly past when another, familiar voice cut through like frost snapping against warm skin.
“Interesting.”
Bea stopped, and glanced back.
Gage stood a few feet away, hands in his pockets, gaze fixed on the girls, expression impassive.
“King Global Capital ran an internal analysis last year,” he said mildly. “Scholarship students outperform legacy admits across nearly every metric. Graduation rates. Internships. Job offers.”
No laughter now. Only flushed cheeks and nervous glances.
“Aesthetics are important,” he continued. “But so is value.”
The girls looked like they might attempt a retort, but thought better of it. One of them muttered something incoherent toward Gage, glanced at Bea, then slipped away.
Gage dismissed them like an afterthought, turning to her.
Time thinned between them.
“You didn’t have to do that.”
A fractional tilt of his head accompanied the smallest pull of his lips. “Didn’t I?”
“I’m not fragile,” she said.
“I didn’t imply you were.”
“Then why say something?”
“Because St. Ives can’t afford to have the few women we have here thinking they don’t belong.”
That caught her off guard. “What?”
He gestured vaguely. “Sixty-five percent male. It’s bad business. We need women here. Talented ones.”
“So, I’m…an investment?”
“In a sense. That’s why we started recruiting from outside.” He paused. “You’re here because you’re supposed to be.”
She’d known it. Or at least, she’d tried to believe it. But hearing it now, from Gage of all people, made it real.
“You talk like you’re on the university board,” she remarked.
“Close enough.”
Silence dwelt with them again. He wasn’t filling it with empty words, but he wasn’t leaving, either.
Her next words tumbled out of their own volition. “Georgina mentioned your birthday dinner.”
Gage’s attention sharpened. “Did she?”
“She said I’m invited.”
He watched her, as if reading the rest of what she didn’t say. “And?”
“I don’t know if I should come.”
“Why not?”
She shrugged, the admission suddenly small in her mouth. “It’s not exactly…my scene.”
“And what is your scene?”
Her lips twitched. “Not birthday dinners with heirs of global empires.”
“Don’t overthink it,” he said. “You belong wherever you decide you do.”
She blinked at him. “Just like that?”
“Just like that.”
“Are you trying to convince me?”
He gave the smallest shrug, as though it didn’t matter either way. “Decide for yourself.”
Bea nodded. “I’ll think about it.”
“Good,” Gage said quietly. “Do that.”
Then, without another word, he turned and strode off, footsteps fading into the corridor.
She watched him go, caught on the certainty of his gait, the way his jacket pulled against the solid lines of his shoulders. It held her in place longer than she had intended.
She wasn’t sure if she wanted to follow…or see if she could make him come back.
GAGE
Gage entered the conference room at King Global Capital, adjusting his cuffs as he took his seat.
Gage King: Executive Director, Strategic Investments.
Sunlight slanted through floor-to-ceiling windows, casting shadows across the matte-black table. Chrome accents gleamed under recessed lights. Designed to impress, but to Gage, just another boardroom.
He’d spent more time in spaces like this than anywhere else.
Across from him, Victor King sat at the head of the table. Elena King, his mother, sat to his right, tablet in hand. Gage’s arrival made her glance up briefly. She offered nothing as obvious as a smile, just the faintest lift of her brow. Their version of ‘hello’ at work.
“Gage,” Victor said without looking up. “You’re late.”
“I had class. I told you I would be.”
“You’re here now. Let’s begin.”
The meeting commenced. Voices from London, Zurich, and Singapore filled the speaker system as projections scrolled past. Gage usually didn’t drift. But today, his mind pulled elsewhere.
Bea.
She’d been a passing mention. A name on Georgina’s radar. But now she was on his—thoughtfully correcting Dean, sitting across from Rafael Griffin, standing in that corridor like she hadn’t been hurt.
Griffin had noticed her, too.
Of course he had.
He didn’t just collect assets. He collected reactions. And Bea, smart and beautiful and just enough out of place, was exactly the sort of challenge he’d enjoy unraveling.
“Gage?”
He blinked. Victor’s sharp blue eyes, so much like his own, were fixed on him, cool and appraising. The disappointment didn’t need to be voiced.
Elena raised her head. She tilted the screen toward him. Unspoken assistance, smooth as always.
“Sorry.” Gage flipped open the report. “I’m listening.”
Victor nodded. “Our sponsorship of the St. Ives gala was well received. Attendance was up twenty percent, media coverage exceeded projections.”
A brochure sat at the edge of the table. St. Ives University, the Griffin Ventures logo stamped discreetly at the bottom.
Of course. The Griffins were embedding themselves deeper.
“Griffin Ventures is gaining ground,” Victor said. “Connections at St. Ives matter. We know that. They know that. Keep us ahead.”
Gage leaned back slightly, gave a single nod. “Understood.”
After a pause, Victor shifted. “Your birthday is set?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. I’ll expect a full update on any valuable discussions.”
To Victor, birthdays were for business. Another chance to survey the field and reinforce the King name.
In that moment, Gage knew: Bea Cruz wasn’t something he’d be reporting back on. She wasn’t an asset. And she wasn’t for his father.
His mother spoke. “We’ll have a family dinner the night before. I’ll find somewhere appropriate.”
“Sounds good,” Gage said.
The meeting ended. Chairs slid back, documents collected. Victor stood first, adjusting the sleeve of his jacket.
“Gage,” he said as he moved toward the door, briefly pausing. “Don’t lose sight of what matters.”
Gage smiled faintly. “I never do.”