Chapter 9
Ten Days Later
“Can you explain again what this party is supposed to be like?”
The girl looks at me as if I’m an alien, but I’d rather embarrass myself by admitting I have no idea what kind of event this is than show up and be shocked by, well, things I’d rather not even imagine.
As annoyed as I was leaving that lunch with Rodrick that day, if I’m honest, I’m grateful he warned me about what I might find at college parties.
I have my own internal rules. Even if I tell myself I’m more modern than my sisters, I can’t completely detach from the way I was raised. Drugs, alcohol, and explicit sex are not part of my world.
What Kaled told me keeps echoing in my head. I can’t bring shame to Rheadur after all the filth involving Naim’s name.
Yes, I want to enjoy life, but to me that means seeing how girls my age have fun, dancing at social gatherings, being part of a Western university campus, and if I meet the right guy, getting my first kiss without it meaning an immediate engagement.
Right after I think about kissing, the next thought, one I can’t stop, comes in the shape of Rodrick.
It’s been like this ever since the night he carried me at Vicenzzo’s party. I’ve even dreamt about him.
How is that possible when we can’t get within a hundred meters of each other without fighting?
I wondered if he made me feel that way simply because he’s the only man who isn’t a relative who ever had the audacity to touch me, but no.
These past days at the University, I’ve already been introduced to several guys through the girls I made friends with.
We shook hands, and one of them even kissed me on the cheek.
I felt nothing.
But the moment I’m near the duke, it’s like my whole body goes numb. Like my blood starts pounding in a fierce rhythm.
With him being so moody, that should push me away, but instead, the more closed-off he seems, the more I want to understand him.
There’s something in his eyes . . . in his gaze . . . that traps me, like an invisible snare. I have to force myself to keep my distance so I don’t embarrass myself, because Rodrick is probably as experienced as my brother, and being that stunning, he must have thousands of women at his feet.
“There’s not much to explain,” Linda, the girl beside me, says. “It’ll be a regular party. Music, dancing, making out.” She adds the last part with a grin.
“Oh . . . I see,” I say, awkwardly. “I’m not sure I can go. I need to organize my study schedule,” I lie, since classes have barely started.
“Oh, come on, Jazmina. First week of the semester and you’re going to stay locked in at home? Trust me, you’ll have time for that.” She probably speaks from experience, since she’s a sophomore.
I feel a little embarrassed. The way she’s looking at me, it seems like my behavior is extremely unusual.
I make a decision.
“All right. I’ll go, but I’m not staying late. I have class tomorrow afternoon.”
“On a Saturday?”
“It’s an extra class. Not mandatory, but I signed up anyway.”
Wow, what a terrible excuse! I’m the worst liar in the world. I should have just said I needed to help deliver a giraffe calf.
But she doesn’t seem to notice. “Want me to swing by and pick you up at your apartment?” she asks, because she knows I don’t drive.
“Uh . . . no,” I answer quickly, thinking of the six bodyguards who follow me everywhere. “I can take a cab. Just text me the address. What time are you getting there? I don’t want to be alone, not knowing anyone. I’m only going because of you.”
“Around eight. Text me when you’re leaving home and we’ll agree on a meeting spot.”
“All right,” I say, still unsure. I’m not a coward, but I really hope I’m not making a mistake by going to this party.
Minutes later, I walk out of the building where I study. A bodyguard follows me discreetly, even though his standard outfit (suit, tie, and dark sunglasses) draws plenty of stares from the other students.
I suggested they dress casually. They ignored me.
When I approach the car, the driver is already waiting with the door open. I also see a second car behind us, with the rest of the security team.
I nod politely and get inside, my head full of thoughts about this party I’m supposedly going to. I have no idea what girls wear to these events, so I grab my phone and look up suggested outfits for different occasions.
When I type “fraternity party,” I’m greeted by images of girls in shorts and miniskirts.
Both are extremely short, and besides the fact that I don’t own either, I’m not sure I’d have the courage to show that much skin.
I think I’ll stick with trusty old jeans, but I decide to wear a slightly bolder top.
It covers my chest completely up to the neck, with a tie detail, but the back is plunging and leaves almost everything exposed.
I’ll swap my usual heels for sneakers to give it a more casual vibe.
Feeling more at ease with my choices, I close my eyes and smile.
I’m finally starting to turn my dreams into reality.
That night
I squeeze my eyes shut, fighting the urge to cry, but not from sadness. From anger.
Linda wasn’t where we agreed to meet. I’ve walked around the party twice and still haven’t found her.
Oh, I forgot to mention: I ditched the bodyguards.
There was no way around it. Rodrick was very clear when he gave a hard no to university parties at that lunch.
If I had asked for his permission to go to this one, he would’ve just irritated me and the final result would’ve been the same: he’d still say no.
It wasn’t easy to slip past the guards, but now I know their routine: they sweep my apartment, then stay positioned in the lobby of my building like a mini-army.
So I came up with a plan: I dressed like a secret agent—coat and cap—and left through the service exit.
When I got here, I ditched the coat on a bench on campus.
I hope someone uses it; it was brand new, just like the entire wardrobe I brought to Europe.
I should be having fun right now, but instead I’m furious for trusting the word of someone I barely know.
“I think I know you,” a female voice says beside me.
I almost sigh in relief. If she doesn’t know me, I’ll fix that immediately. I urgently need a friend to stick with at this party. Either that, or I'll give up and leave without seeing anything.
But when I turn to see who’s talking to me, my mood collapses completely.
“I think I know you too, but that’s not necessarily a good thing,” I answer.