“Well, after you graduate, we would love to offer you a position at one of our many generous benefactors’ companies—”
That’s it. I’m done. “No.” I stand up. “I think that concludes this meeting. Thanks for the offer, Ms. B, but I’m good. I don’t need a job.”
Shock covers her face. “W-what about the scholarship?”
I shrug and head for the door. “I’ll figure it out when I get there.”
“Avalon!” The scraping of her chair behind me tells me she's not ready for this conversation to be over. I am, though. Her fingers encircle my arm as she pulls me to a stop. Stopping in my tracks, I turn my head and look down at where she's touching before looking pointedly back up at her. She quickly catches on and releases me. “You have to think about this,” she urges. “This is your future we’re talking about. Do you really want to go back home after you finish your dual enrollment credits?” Deep crevices begin to form between her brows.
“Why not?” I ask.
She sucks in a breath. “Avalon, you’re smart,” she says. “You’re better than that place.”
Oh, but that's where she's wrong. Seeing myself as better suddenly turns me into someone like the pricks from class—Abel Frazier. Or even the guy who’d refused to apologize after nearly plowing into me earlier. Once you start to see yourself as above everyone else, you start to think you're a god, and I'm no fucking god. If anything, I'm a devil.
“Thanks again for the offer,” I say with a shake of my head as I reach for the doorknob. “But I’ve fulfilled my duty—I met with you. Told you my classes were fine. We’re good.”
I step out into the hallway, not all that surprised when she chooses to follow me. “At least think about it,” she presses, her heels clicking against the tiles. She continues to trail me all the way back to the elevator, telling me what a great opportunity this will be, and the entire way, all I can think is that I really need something relaxing after a day like today.
The elevator doors slide open and I step inside, turning as she slaps a hand against the doors to hold them open, her eyes pleading. “Please, just promise me that much.”
I frown at her curious reaction as I press the button for the bottom floor. “Sure, Ms. B, I’ll think about it,” I lie, but as the doors close all I can think about is her desperation.
Desperate people are often willing to forsake anything and everything to get what they want. What unnerves me most of all, though, is the fact that I can’t pinpoint exactly why it is that Ms. Bairns wants me here. The franticness. The intensity of her plea.
What the fuck kind of school have I agreed to go to?
9
Dean
I know who she is, and Abel’s right about her. Not only is she a program girl with a bad attitude, she's also got a body made for fucking. She hides it under rough t-shirts and jeans, but it’s not easy to conceal tits and an ass like that. It's also obvious that she has no clue who any of us are. Otherwise, she'd never have expected an apology from me. I chuckle darkly at the mere reminder. Those cold, cutting eyes. That fuck me mouth.
Poor thing. I watch her waltz into the building where my father and the other heads of the families hold their offices when they deign to come on campus. Her little muttered "asshole" just before the door swings shut behind her ass amuses me more than anything has in a while. Scratching the side of my jaw, I feel my lips pull up.
I don’t normally get involved in games like the ones Brax and Abel play. As I watch her walk away though, the swinging of her ass draws my attention. Even from the back, her spine remains straight and rigid—defiant. For a man like me, she’s nothing but utter temptation. She’s a challenge, and I haven’t felt the need to conquer something in quite a while—not when everything is already at my disposal. Almost everything anyway.
I scowl at the reminder, turning and stomping down the front steps of the building, and cut towards the parking lot. My phone beeps just as I reach the SUV and I pull it out—as if I've summoned the bitch from the depths of purgatory itself, Kate Coleman's name flashes over my screen. I delete her latest message and the rest along with the voicemails I haven't bothered to look at. She made her bed and I'll make her regret it. Soon, I promise myself. Soon her fucking bed will be on fire and I won't have to deal with Luc Kincaid either.
I scroll down to my email and then over to my access to student files. Within seconds, I've got an image of the girl from the office building and a file on one Avalon Manning downloaded to my phone. The list of her previous schools is damn near a full page long with the details of each transfer on the following sheets. I release a slow whistle as I pop the SUV door and get in, shoving the key into the ignition. Someone has been a very bad girl. Five schools. Numerous referrals. Suspensions for fighting, tardiness, smoking weed. I laugh. Man, public schools get so bent out of shape over the stupidest shit.
My phone rings just as I pull out of the parking lot, and I answer.
“Hey,” Abel’s voice filters in through the speakers. “I got the party all set up. Eli’s on door duty and the rest are picking up chicks. You get anything?”
“Yeah. I got her file and I ran into the chick.”
“You did?” He sounds excited. “What’d you think?”
“I think I’m taking this one on as a personal case,” I say.
“Fuck you, man!” But the lightness of his tone doesn't disperse. My phone beeps again and I freeze up when I glance at the new call waiting. A blocked number. And only one blocked number ever calls my cell.
“Gotta go.” I don’t wait on a reply before pressing the end button and swiping green. “This is Dean,” I answer the new caller.
“Warehouse 14. Friday night. Midnight. Do not be late.” The line goes dead.
Fuck.
My hands clench the steering wheel and my pulse picks up. My lungs expand as I take a deep breath. The phone call can only mean one thing. We've got a fucking job to do.
10
Avalon
A yawn stretches my mouth. Damn, I’m so fucking tired. I can feel the individual grains of sleep still lingering even though I’ve been up for hours. The words in front of me blur into oblivion until all I can make out are dark lines on the pages of my textbook.
I mutter a curse beneath my breath and try to rub more life into my eyes.
“Avalon Manning?” I look up just as someone drops into the seat across from me.
I examine the girl before me, refocusing my gaze as I straighten my spine. Dark eyes, blonde hair, nice clothes, and an attitude that screams ‘I don’t care what you think.’
“Depends on who’s asking,” I say.
A card slaps onto the table and she taps her painted red nails over it. "This is for you." The girl slides it towards me.
I don’t even have the mental energy to look at whatever it is she’s trying to give me. Instead, I heave a breath and reach for my bag, stuffing my books and things into it as I rise from my seat. I thought the library would be a good place to get some shit done, but apparently not. "No thanks.” I fight back a yawn as I finish packing.