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24

Bianaca

Iremained rooted outside the door, fist raised to knock. My hands were clammy, sweat sticking my hair to the back of my neck. Shaking my limbs loose, I took a deep, calming breath.

You can do this.

After that admittedly pathetic pep talk, I rapped my fist against the dorm room door. A moment later, it was pulled open, and Heath’s psychopathic smile greeted me.

“Bianaca. You came.”

“You have information I want,” I said dryly.

Honestly, it felt like I was in the midst of a drug deal. Soon, I would be handing over wads of cash, and Heath would give me a bag of drugs.

Why did I always find myself involved in shady shit?

With a swooping gesture, Heath stepped back and allowed me inside his sparsely decorated room. The white walls were empty except for a few photographs, each depicting a different landscape. A nightstand and a lamp flanked the simple wooden bed, and a television was mounted to the wall. While it was considerably nicer than my dorm room and ten times better than Beau’s, it was still unremarkable. Nothing screamed “Heath.”

“As student body president, I’m able to get a bigger room than most students,” he said, noting the direction of my gaze. He didn’t sound cocky about his position, only resigned. “Over here.”

He led me through a door that I had initially thought would lead to a bathroom. Instead, it appeared to be some kind of sitting room complete with leather chairs, a mini-fridge, and a gaming console. A simple card table and four folding chairs were set up in the very center of the room. A girl and a guy already sat.

The guy’s back was toward me, but I recognized the girl immediately.

Maria.

Her white-blond hair was braided away from her face, and pink dusted both her cheekbones. Her glazed eyes rested on me as she toppled off her chair.

“B! You arrived!” She greeted me as if we were best friends and not enemies.

All I could see when I stared at her was Beau. His lips on hers. Her hands tangled in his golden hair. Their lips melded together.

My stomach churned and tightened, the contents of my dinner mere seconds from decorating the white carpet.

“Bianaca, I didn’t know you were coming,” the second voice said snidely. He swiveled in his seat, and this time, I was positive I was going to puke.

Dylan.

“What are you doing here?” My tone was scathing, bitter. Anyone with ears could hear the incandescent fury those five words exuded.

“Playing poker,” he answered dryly. He stared at me as if I was daft, the condescending prick.

Heath’s customary smile remained etched on his face, but his eyes tightened when he faced Dylan. Huh. The fearless class president obviously did not like my stepbrother.

Dylan, of course, remained oblivious, white teeth gleaming in the artificial lighting. He extended his arms as if he intended to hug me.

“Enough with the bull crap,” Heath snapped. This time, his smile slipped from his face completely. The man looked positively murderous. “I invited you all because I have something you need, and you have something I want.”

“What exactly do you want, Heath?” Maria asked, voice lowering in what she probably thought was a seductive manner. In my humble opinion, she sounded more constipated than sultry.

Heath leveled her with a glare that could cut glass.

“The rules are simple,” he began, ignoring her suggestive remark. Moving briskly to the table, he shocked the hell out of me by pulling out one of the chairs and nodding for me to sit. Only when I was seated did he push it back in and move to sit on the left of me.

Without his smile, those eyes appeared even more dead, more haunted. Hundreds of secrets lurked beneath his smooth-talking facade.

“But we’re not playing this game for cash,” he stated ominously. His eyes strayed to Dylan’s first and then Maria’s before resting on mine. He seemed to have a way of innately commanding our respect and attention. Ensnared by his gaze, I couldn’t look away even if I wanted to. “We’re playing for secrets.”