Page 42 of Ruthless Chaos
Everything about the sculpture looks fierce.
He must be the man who founded their boy’s club.
Clutching my bag close to my body, I walk faster. Though it’s still a bit early, the House is full of activity. There are uniformed people busy in the yard, some of the windows are open and there are guys congregating on the balconies and terrace.
I even spot one sitting on a bench in the gardens, shirtless. White wisps of smoke lazily leech from his lips. It’s like time moves slower over there. I suppose you can be that relaxed if you run the school.
If everything Tara’s told me about them is true, what I see shouldn’t interest me this much. Goosebumps prickle the back of my neck.
I turn my eyes away, but not before I catch a glimpse of a feminine figure on the ground floor terrace. A closer look reveals it’s afamiliarfeminine figure. Even from a few yards away, I recognize her.
It’s Cassidy—her hair is in a high ponytail, her twiggy frame draped in a white dress.
She’s deep in conversation with a guy who towers over her, his blonde hair glimmering in the early morning sunlight. Even though I know I shouldn’t care—I shouldn’t even be looking—I stare until he shifts enough for me to recognize the cut of his firm jaw.
Alexander Duke.
My body stiffens, and my steps slow.
A sharp breath leaves my lips, and there’s a sudden tightness in my chest. My throat hurts, and even though I tell myself I need to keep walking, my feet won’t budge.
All I can do is stare.
They’re wrapped up in a serious-looking conversation.
She’s animated, her ponytail bouncing with each sharp movement of her hands. Alexander is stoic, but gives her his full attention. Tara’s words replay in my mind about Cassidy’s obsession with him. To me, he doesn’t look as dismissive of her as she made it seem.
It’s that thought that gets my legs moving again.
If they catch me staring at them, it might cause suspicion, and that’s the last thing I need. What if Alexander sees me and decides that he wants to go further this time? I would be powerless to stop him.
My chest flutters traitorously at the thought.
He’s the villain,I remind myself.You hate him.
Pulling the collar of my shirt a little higher, I briskly walk past Kingmaker House. The more distance I put between myself and those two, the better I feel. Coaching myself through deep breaths, I focus on what I can control—myactions.
My phone buzzes in my bag. It’s a text from Tara.
Are you free at 1?
I swipe over to my class schedule, then text back.
Yes, why?
My phone buzzes again.
Let’s get lunch together. Meet me by the dorms.
I’m in the middle of typing up a response to her when I bump into something hard that sends me reeling backwards. I lose my balance, my phone clattering to the floor. I spread my arms out, bracing for the impact.
It never comes.
Instead, I feel a pair of firm hands grab my waist.
“Don’t worry, I’ve got you,” a deep, accented voice says.
At first, I think it’s Alexander, but this voice is pitched a little too high.
