Page 9 of The Prince of Power

I snort. “These are your friends, not mine. If they were my friends, your Ava would be an unfashionable hour early to help set up for the party.”

Rhett’s chuckle is drowned out by the music that drifts through the air, pulling me forward. The iron gates are open, leading into the courtyard. The moment we step through, the warmth of the fire hits me. Not just from the massive stone braziers set along the terrace, but from the fire dancers weaving through the crowd.

Fire dancers. At a damn frat party.

Rhett leans in, his voice low. “Some of these people have probably been drinking all day. Stay close.”

I sigh. “I need to use the bathroom.”

“I’ll come with you.”

“Absolutely not.”

His jaw ticks. “Fine. Go through that archway.” He gestures toward a less crowded section of the courtyard. “There’s a smaller bathroom down that drive. Be quick.”

I bite back a retort as I walk away. Who cares if he’s being his usual overprotective self—treating me like I might get kidnapped on a trip to the bathroom? He let me come. That’s what counts.

The noise of the party fades behind me, swallowed by the thick stone walls. The air is cooler here, damp from the open archways leading into the gardens.

I don’t see a bathroom, so I slow my steps and glance around. A figure emerges, and my spine stiffens. He stands tall and motionless. Watching me.

His voice cuts through the dark. “You.”

I inhale a sharp breath. I know that voice.

Damian Cross.

“Who are you?” I ask, not wanting him to know that I recognize him.

That I’ve watched him in class.

He steps forward, and the dim light finally reveals him. Sharp jawline. Dark-blue eyes that catch the glowing lantern. Black, silky hair swept from his face.

My God, this man is beautiful in an unsettling way.

And of course, he would be. How are these rich kids at Ashford always shockingly pretty when their billionaire fathers look like Saran Wrapped lumps? Then again, when women are just another asset to acquire, I guess you get to pick the ones who give you pretty kids.

Damian stops just a few feet away. Too close. “We’re in a class together. Social Psychology.”

I cross my arms. “I’min that class. I’ve seen you come a few times, usually over a half hour late.”

As soon as the words are out, I want to bite them back. He smiles, and it’s not the gentle kind.

It’s the kind that makes your bones chill for reasons you can’t name.

I shift my weight and glance over his shoulder, hugging my arms around myself. Maybe I should have allowed Rhett to come with me.

Damian moves closer. “Are you looking for someone?”

I shake my head. “The bathrooms.”

He doesn’t say anything, and he definitely knows where bathrooms are. For someone with endless wealth, he sure is lacking in manners.

“What are you doing here?” he eventually asks. “At Thornecroft.”

I lift my chin, trying to ignore the way his presence feels like it’s sinking into my skin. “I’ve always wanted to see the castle during a party.”

Damian’s lips curl. “And what do you think?”

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