Page 101 of XXXVII: The Elite

Synclair Keyinghamagreedto let me join the Elite?

This seems too easy, and I’m sure the terms he’s going to set out are going to be completely ludicrous or impossible, but I know this is all I will get from him tonight.

Giving him a polite nod, I turn on my heel and start to walk to the door.

“Don’t you want your phone back?” Syn calls as I’m about to open the door.

With my hand on the handle, I glance over my shoulder and shrug. “I have copies.” Then I walk out, closing the door behind me.

Declan is waiting outside, the same sneer on his face as there was when I went in. I’m not sure if he heard the conversation, nor do I care. I follow him out of the house.

Outside, out of view of the house, I let out a long breath.

There’s no other copy of that video—at least, not in my possession. Regardless of what happened tonight, I was going to delete that video anyway, because if it hadn’t worked here, keeping it felt too dangerous.

Now I just have to wait and see what Syn wants from me…

XXXIX

Syn

“You think she’s going to come?”

I can barely hear Royal over the sound of the music. It’s nearly midnight, and the Inaugural Ball is in full swing. Most of the campus is here, packed into the church. The DJ has been playing great music, and our supply of alcohol and party favors means everyone is enjoying themselves.

The initiates are now all full members of the Elite, their acceptance ceremony completed in private before we formally introduced them to the rest of the student body.

“She’s not coming. She’ll never accept those terms.” I’m smug about that. But there’s also a twinge of regret—even though I’ll never admit it to Royal or Gemini.

The proposal I sent to her is intense. Essentially, we own her. Every hour of the day is mapped out. Her accommodation, her clothes, herfree time. Even her body.

Everything every initiate has experienced so far, focused on one individual.

Victoria Reynolds won’t find answers within the Elite.

Only pain, humiliation, and regret.

And hidden beneath an NDA and an ironclad contract, I’d be able to do anything I wanted.Thatis the part causing my regret.

“Then maybe she’s here to turn you down in person,” Gemini says, grinning like an idiot.

I look up towards the door. Walking down the center of the room where the aisle would be if the pews hadn’t been moved to the side for a dancefloor, dressed in white like the instructions stipulate, is Tori. Her hair is the brightest blue I’ve seen it, the flashing party lights bounce off it as she moves.

The crowds are parting to let her pass, all of those close to her, staring. Half are confused and half seem annoyed. Under normal circumstances, she wouldn’t be welcome here.

She walks with her head held high, like she really is a bride on her way to meet her groom. Only, she won’t find love here.

I watch her. Curious to see how far she will get before she changes her mind.

But she doesn’t stop until she’s in front of me.

Arching an eyebrow, I look down at her.

“I read your terms. I accept. However, I wish to add a single clause of my own.” She raises her arm, offering me the large envelope I had the papers delivered to her in.

Silently, I take the envelope from her, pulling out the documents from inside. The NDA is signed and unaltered. The contract, although signed, has a single hand-written addition to my list of terms.

“And if I refuse, does that mean you won’t accept?” I ask.

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