Chapter Fifteen Some Cupid kills with arrows, some with traps
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Some Cupid kills with arrows, some with traps
A HUGE OAK DESK SAT in the center of the president’s office.
It was covered in books and files, with a small space for a monitor and keyboard.
Here too were rows of bookshelves—stacked with leather-bound books whose spines had been lettered with gold leaf—and a walk-in wardrobe that was partially obscured from view.
The air had an acrid scent to it, like each old tome, each page and ancient volume of the books, held memories of the past.
Behind the desk sat an older man with peppered brown hair and a thick beard. He was a spitting image of Alaster, but if Alaster had aged a few more decades, with his square jaw, piercing brown eyes, and wide build.
On the other side of the desk, across from the man, Kasem sat with his head in his hands.
Angelica, the woman from the medical center, and Jojo were there too.
But instead of sitting, they stood near the wall; Angelica with a pained expression on her face, her hands yanking and twisting mindlessly on her gold necklace; Jojo observing his younger brother with frustration.
“Close the door, Alaster,” President Saint James said. “Miss Adu, please sit. Charlotte, take a seat as well.”
Provost Henning gave the president a little bow at the mention of her name and took the seat farthest from Kasem. Two seats remained between them; one for me, and one for Alaster.
“You don’t have to sit next to him if you don’t want to,” Alaster said after he closed the door and I still hadn’t moved.
“I’m fine,” I said. Except I wasn’t. I wasn’t prepared for this moment, and his words, the accusation he’d carelessly made just moments before. Alaster could be lying. He’d do anything to get Kasem expelled from Westfield. But the fear in his voice had been palpable, real.
Tentatively, I glanced over to Kasem. With his head down and his hands cupping his face, he couldn’t see the rush of confliction churning through me.
But then he shifted in his seat, turned his head ever so slightly so that our gazes met between the frames of his fingers.
His brown eyes were searing. There wasn’t anger there, or fear—just acceptance.
I looked away, my heart drumming in my ears. But my gaze returned to his, and the longer he watched me, the more I felt like I was drowning in his stare.
I’d never swum in an open current, but I imagined this might be how it would feel: daunting, breathless, aching.
“Shall we begin?” the president said, cutting through the silence with his deep, somber voice.
Finally, finally, Kasem looked away. I did too, my cheeks warm, my heart thrumming against my ears. From the corner of my eye, I realized Jojo had been watching Kasem and me exchange glances. I couldn’t read what Jojo could be thinking. This new version of him was a stranger to me.
“You could have just spoken to me at the estate,” Kasem said. “This is wholly unnecessary.”
“I disagree with that entirely,” the president said. “I think it’s very necessary. Especially now that I have parents writing to me about why we’d accept a graduate student, a TA, nonetheless, who’s hooking up with students during orientation.”
I bristled in my seat, but Kasem didn’t seem moved.
“Honey’s a math major. I haven’t TA’d any of the classes she’s in, not even a finance elective.”
“That’s beside the point,” the president said.
“You were supposed to be a symbol for our institution, Kasem. The embodiment of what hard work and applying oneself academically can achieve. And a reminder that Westfield University has made leaps and bounds from where it once was on the racial front—even if things have been shaky these last few years.”
“Especially now that they might finally let its Black heir inherit the university estate,” Kasem said under his breath.
“In Kasem’s defense,” Jojo said, drawing attention to himself for the first time since the confrontation began. “I was a witness too. Kasem apologizes for getting caught up in these circumstances. May he learn from this.”
“Thank you, brother. But I don’t remember asking for empty benedictions,” Kasem said, scowling at Jojo.
“Well, you clearly need something if this is how you’re conducting yourself at such a seminal point in the year,” Jojo said, his voice low, dangerous.
“You’re not affiliated with Westfield other than as a researcher. If you’re here as a witness, then be that. But don’t overstep where you’re not wanted.”
Jojo pursed his lips, moving to speak again. But the president raised his hand, and Jojo bowed, stepping back beneath the curtain of shadows at the president’s desk.
“You’d be wise to listen to your brother, Kasem. This is a seminal year for you,” the president continued. “I know you aren’t keen to graduate and teach, but there’s a spot for you on the board of trustees. It could be yours. Why rush to inherit the estate when so much greater could be before you?”
“I’m assuming Professor Saint James is here for this same reason,” Kasem said, nodding in Alaster’s direction.
Alaster cleared his throat, his cheeks flushed but his expression otherwise empty of any concern.
“Actually, I’m here for another matter entirely. One that is certainly more grave than whatever gossip has taken up the president’s time.”
He nodded at Angelica, and the woman shot an uncertain glance at me before speaking.
“I treated Miss Adu yesterday,” she said. “She had scratches all over her body, and her nose was bruised and had likely been bleeding.”
I stiffened, hating that they were already framing what had happened to me.
It was a grim picture, one Alaster had seemed prepared to paint about his cousin.
But now that I was here and he’d managed to wedge a shard of doubt into my consciousness, part of me wanted to use this interrogation to uncover answers myself.
Why had Kasem been in the maze? Why had he lied about seeing that terrifying-looking figure, and why had he wanted my silence?
“Miss Adu,” the president said. “Can you recount the source of your injuries?”
I hesitated, unsure.
At the president’s side, Jojo shifted, his gaze hard, his fist clenched.
“You can tell us, Sianna.”
The president cleared his throat, reining in Jojo yet again.
“It was Alaster and Researcher Saint James who recommended that Scholar Saint James be here for your explanation,” the president said. “That said, they didn’t elaborate further.”
Kasem looked between his brother and his cousin and threw his head back in laughter.
“What a duo the two of you make. Really, I’m impressed,” he said. “Should we also bring Honey in the mix? If we’re not going to question her about her own circumstance, then surely she’d like to weigh in here, at least?”
“Honey is barely there half of the time,” Alaster snapped. “As if she’d be an accurate witness. Especially since the two of you are in a relationship now.”
Kasem glanced at his cousin with cool regard, ignoring Jojo entirely. “Is that what Honey and I are now? That’s news to me. I’m assuming that means she’s grown tired of geriatric entanglements.”
Kasem smiled, a wolfish glint in his eyes when Alaster lunged for him, grabbing Kasem by the neck of his shirt. Angelica screamed.
“Gentlemen!” Provost Henning shouted. “Gentlemen, please.”
But it was Jojo who tore Alaster and Kasem apart.
“You’re playing with fire, Kasem,” Jojo hissed.
Kasem pushed Jojo away. “Get off me,” he said.
I caught a glimpse of the silver flask in the breast pocket of the wine-colored jacket Kasem wore as he stumbled back, pointing an accusatory finger at Jojo.
“You came back when I warned you not to. When I practically begged. And that’s fine.
You’ve made your choice. But don’t test me, brother. You don’t know what I’m capable of.”
Jojo grabbed the flask from Kasem. “Actually, I’m pretty sure I do. And as much as you’d like to pretend you’re capable of changing anything, we both know the truth.”
“Enough,” the president snapped. “All of you. You are leaders of learning at one of the greatest institutions in the country, not children. Not anymore. These petty fights must end.”
Shame washed over Alaster, and Jojo bristled too.
“I apologize, Father.”
“And I too, Uncle,” Jojo said, giving a little bow.
“It’s President Saint James to you,” the president snapped, but his words were directed at Alaster, not Jojo.
Alaster bowed his head. “I apologize, President Saint James.”
Kasem seemed unmoved. “Alaster was just reminding us who he is. He so enjoys reminding everyone what he thinks of me. But, Uncle, I do agree with you. There’s a severity to these accusations that deserves an equal and just punishment if proved guilty.
” He frowned, feigning thought for a moment before continuing.
“I think that would be my first policy when I take over Westfield,” Kasem said.
“When I’m president—no, sorry, when I own Westfield—we’ll bring back corporal punishment.
You know, we used to have that here. In the 1800s.
Except when I take over, it won’t be for the students.
It’ll be for the faculty,” he said, turning his gaze to Alaster and Provost Henning with a cool smile.
“You all have gotten away with pointing fingers. How about we lay our cards down, see who among us is guilty of what, and dole out punishments accordingly?”
Alaster scoffed. “You see, President Saint James, this is what happens to Westfield when we let waste think they can claim our family’s legacy. He’s lucky their father isn’t here today. He’d rue what his youngest has become.”
“I think we’d appreciate if you didn’t try and speak for our father,” Jojo said with venom.
But Kasem seemed to think on what his cousin had said for a second. He shook his head, nodding as if in agreement. And then, Kasem punched Alaster.
They landed with a crash on the president’s desk, sending the books and stacks of papers flying across the room as Kasem’s fist found Alaster’s jaw, over and over and over again, to bloody lengths.