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“Yeah? Me too.” His gaze swings, locking onto mine. His expression is so fierce that it excites me and numbs me at the same time. I wish I understood what made Leo tick so I could figure out why I’m drawn to him. The push and pull between us is tiring, and I’m over it.
The doorbell rings, catching us all off guard. I doubt it’s another round of food. Leo pushes himself to his feet first, and my heart thrums inside my chest. I never used to worry about who was at the door until I started this process. I’m expecting it to be Knight related, like everything else.
Leo’s encounter with whoever is at the door is silent and brief. He comes back holding a postcard, shaking his head at it. When he turns it over, he says, “Told you so.”
It’s an engagement announcement. In exquisite, professional-photographer fashion, there are candid and posed shots of Anne-Marie Kennedy and Vincent Jarvis adorning it.
“That’s a scary power couple,” Alaric remarks, frowning at it.
Oliver grins, reaching up to take it out of Leo’s hands. “I hope that old dick made this engagement photo shoot worthwhile. Completely mental.” He passes it to me, and I’m overtaken by sadness when I look at it. I don’t like Anne-Marie. She’s a fake bitch. But this makes me think about the shitty options we women have in this world. Marry someone who will ask you to fuck his grandfather in order to be accepted into the family. Sit respectfully by while your husband cheats on you with anything on legs.
It’s disgusting.
I quickly pass it to Alaric. His lips thin. “And to think my father mentioned her as a viable option once.”
“A viable option?” Immediately, I let go of his hand.
He frowns at me. “Sorry. Poor choice of words. My parents have been pushing marriage on me for the last couple of years.”
My lip pulls back into a sneer. Marriage shouldn’t be about power plays or how to increase standing and fortune, it should be about something much more basic than that—a true affection for another person.
Leo takes the postcard back from him, bouncing the edge against his palm. “Speaking of marriage, how’s your fiancé?” The smirk he gives me makes me itch to slap him.
“Haven’t heard from him, actually.”
I wonder if I’ll have to go as far as getting these stupid pictures taken. Bottom line, I need to talk to Keegan. If he won’t call me back, I might have to corner him at his dorm. Or we might have to revert to a hostage situation again.
I hope Oliver’s servants have prepared themselves for the shitshow that being a Fledgling will be.
Leo gazes at the postcard once more. From my angle, all I see is his cousin on one knee with a ring box in his hand. What a sneaky little asshole that guy is. Marrying one girl but also needing results of a paternity test. I don’t think it’s a huge leap to think that it must be his. The only question is, who’s the mystery girl? It certainly isn’t the one he’s marrying.
The way he dealt with the whole situation as if it was just a business exchange, telling Oliver and I he owes us one—
I gasp, gaining the attention of the whole room. My head spins, and I mumble some excuse to the rest of them.
I need to get back at Leo, and his cousin owes me a favor.
I may have just found our ticket to revenge.
28
Oliver
Ilove it when Eden says things likedon’t judge meas we’re on our way to her fake fiancé’s dorm room to corner him.
Peering over at her skeptically, I search her for any clues as to what she’s about to say next. She’s getting the hang of her crutches, even starting to put a bit more weight on her ankle. She’s dressed adorably in a fashionable sweater and jeans that hug her ass.
“For asking me to go visit your fiancé? Or is there something else mental going on in that beautiful head of yours?”
I admit, when she came to me this morning and said she wanted to check up on Keegan, a wave of jealousy hit me. It’s been almost a week since the incident, and she’s somehow made me accept the fact that the only girl I’ve ever loved is going to marry someone else—even if it is a sham.
“Something else crazy,” she says, grimacing.
I can’t imagine anything else crazier than the other shit we’re dealing with. Donating money to the Knights’ causes just so she doesn’t have to serve on the same committee her sister died serving on; getting a Save the Date from the bride who fucked the groom’s grandfather in order to obtain his approval; and don’t get me started on the Alaric Barclay mess. “Can’t wait to hear it.”
She side-eyes me but keeps going. We stick to the crisscrossing sidewalks as we make our way to Kennedy Hall where Keegan stays. “Okay, hear me out. You know how we did that thing for Vincent Jarvis?” She whispers the name as we pass a group of other Carnegie students.
“Yes,” I draw out, wondering what that has to do with her crazy idea.