Leaning in so I can whisper at Carley’s ear, I say, “I need to go to the bathroom. Try not to jump his bones while I’m gone, okay?”
She whips her head to face me, gawking in shock and embarrassment. “I’m not going to … why would you say that?” She gives me a questioning look, then whispers, “Why? Do you think he’s interested?”
Snorting, I press a quick kiss to her cheek and get up from my seat. Winding my way through the tables, I head toward the dining hall. I make my way into the bathroom, pee, and wash my hands. When I near the door to leave again, I hear voices on the other side. They’re not loud, but they’re tense and heated.
I hesitate, wondering if I should step out and interrupt whoever’s talking, but I’m not willing to be trapped in the bathroom for God knows how long. Cautiously, I open the door and try to sneak out. I gaze around and freeze in my tracks. Between me and the door to the outside is Saint. He’s standing with an older couple, who I assume are his parents, and they appear to be in the middle of a tense conversation.
There’s no way out except past them, so I decide to try and slip back into the bathroom and hide. Waiting it out might not be such a bad idea after all…
Before I can open the bathroom door again, however, Saint’s gaze swings toward me. His eyes widen in disbelief as he stares at me, then they narrow with anger the next moment. Both his parents turn to stare at me, and I’m paralyzed, unable to move from my spot by the bathroom. His mother is tall, platinum blonde, and regal looking. She’s literally looking down her perfectly sculpted nose at me. His father’s eyes become slits as he studies me a little too intently.
Before I can decide whether to slip back into the restroom and pretend this terrible encounter never happened, or dart past them as if I’m not bothered by the awkwardness, Saint storms toward me.
Grabbing my arm, he hisses, “Come with me.” Then, he drags me down the hallway, past his parents, toward the entrance to the dining room.
He shoves me inside the empty space and crowds me up against the nearest wall. His nostrils flare as he asks me in a soft, steady voice, “What the fuck are you doing here?”
“What do you mean?” I hiss. “I was just going to the bathroom—”
“You’re not supposed to be here,” he insists in a growl.
My breath catches, and I ball my hands into fists. “Seriously, Saint? Today? Can’t you just—”
“No. You’re not supposed to be here, Mallory. At Parents’ Weekend.” His voice grows harsher, but I still don’t understand why he’s so upset.
“Look, I’m sorry I interrupted whatever you were talking about with your parents, but I swear, it was an accident…”
He slaps his palms against the wall on either side of my head. I gasp and shrink away from him, startled by the look in his eyes. Not just anger, but fear.
What the hell is going on?
“Saint, you’re scaring me. What—?”
“Do you have any brains in that thick head of yours?” he demands. “Can’t you stay out of my fucking way for one fucking day? Just one?”
Fury flares within me and I shove at his chest. Of course, he doesn’t budge, but it’s better than punching him right in his stupid face, though hardly as satisfying. My concern for him vanishes in an instant. I open my mouth, ready to lay into him, when a deep voice booms through the hall and stops me.
“Son, what’s going on? You shouldn’t keep your mother waiting.”
We turn to find his father standing in the dining hall doorway, glaring at us. His icy blue eyes are exactly like his son’s, as are his facial features and build. They’re both tall and broad, though Mr. Angelle is a little softer around the middle. His hair is also dark brown, not blond, with gray at his temples.
“Dad, give me a minute,” Saint snaps.
Mr. Angelle doesn’t appear to like Saint’s short tone. He prowls toward us, his expression growing darker with every step he takes. “Who is this?” he demands. “Another conquest, perhaps?”
“Dad!”
My eyes bounce between Saint and his dad, and I don’t know what I should say, if anything. I’m offended by Mr. Angelle’s assumptions, but I’m 99.9 percent certain I’d only make this tense situation worse if I said anything.
Saint moves slightly so that he blocks me from his father’s view.
“She’s not a fucking conquest. She’s nothing. Nobody. Not worth your time.”
“Oh, is that so?” Mr. Angelle moves closer, grabs his son’s shoulder, and pushes him to the side. He studies me intently, his expression curious at first, but then changing into something disturbing.
Something that makes my skin crawl.
“She doesn’t look like nobody to me.” Mr. Angelle glances toward Saint, who’s fuming next to us, his rage wafting off him like poisonous fumes. “Miss? What is your name please?”
“Mallory, Mr. Angelle. Mallory Elli—”
“Her name doesn’t matter,” Saint hisses. “She’s just some girl I hooked up with once who’s gotten clingy.”
Not only is that embarrassing to hear aloud, it stings that he’s so nonchalant about it.
Mr. Angelle cocks a thick, dark brow. “Indeed? You seem to be rather eager to hide her from me. I apologize for my son’s rudeness, Mallory. He often doesn’t think before he speaks.”
I nod, dumbfounded. “It’s fine. I’m used to it.”
Saint shoots me a vicious look, and his eyes tell me to keep my mouth shut.
“I don’t believe I recognize you from my son’s class. Are you new to Angelview this year?” Mr. Angelle has turned his entire focus onto me, ignoring his son completely.
Saint’s gaze bores into me, but I get the sense that he’s no longer the alpha here.
“Yes, sir. I just started this semester.”
“And your family? Do I know your parents?”
My heart thumps hard in my chest and I pluck at the skirt of my dress in agitation. I need to be careful here. I can’t let anything slip. Can’t give anything away.
“I-I doubt it, sir,” I stammer. “My foster mom is an ER nurse in Georgia.”
Mr. Angelle stares at me in silence for several moments.
“I suppose you’re a scholarship student, aren’t you Mallory?”
The way he’s speaking makes it seem like he’s repulsed by that fact.
Gulping, I nod. “Yes, sir, I am.”
“Ah.” His expression cools. “I have always found the Academy’s charity rather … generous.”
It doesn’t sound like he thinks that’s a good thing.
“Well, I’m grateful for the opportunity to be here, however it came about.”
“Hmmm, I’m sure you are very proud of whatever brought you … here.” He directs his icy stare at his son when he says that last word, and it becomes clear to me that Saint doesn’t share just his good looks with his father. They share the same, shitty, entitled personality as well. I’m ready to get out of this situation and put as much distance between myself and the whole Angelle family.
Plastering on a smile so sweet, I hope it gives them both cavities, I grind out, “I really should be getting back to the picnic. My foster mom is waiting for me.”