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Lucy chuckles. “Good. He loves a challenge.”

I’ve noticed that too.

He seems to like it whenever I’m rude to him. He even laughs.

An idea sparks. Does that mean he would hate the opposite? I’ve noticed how both girls and boys clamor for his attention after class. It always seems to annoy him.

I smile at Lucy. “So then I guess I’ll have to tell him I love him?”

Her laugh is unrestrained this time. “You’re a fun one. A girl after my own heart. Keep that energy. You’ll definitely make it as one of his consorts. Just don’t…” She bites her lip. “Don’t take it too far. Damian is known for kicking people out of Thornecroft on a dime. It’s his right as one of the Big Four, and he takes advantage of it more than the others. He’s even done it in the middle of the night before.”

Kicked out. Wouldn’t that be lovely?

“Don’t worry,” I say. “I’m not really that sassy. I’m just a prude.”

A scheming prude who’s going to pretend like she likes him just to see if it makes him lose interest.

I glance at the big door to my right. “So what can I expect from Damian?”

“He’ll probably ignore you when you walk in. Keep your head down unless he tells you to meet his eyes. He’s not like Hunter. He’s a lot meaner. I’m not saying he’s going to spank you or anything—unless you want him to. But if you want to make it into the frat, stick to the rules.”

Spank me? Would he spank me for pretending to be infatuated with him? He already told me I’m not good at deception.

My God, I’m out of my depth, but I have to at least try.

I swallow. “Got it.”

“Good.” She gestures to the door. “Knock when you’re ready, and do it hard, or he’ll scold you. You also have to wait until he tells you to enter.”

My hand trembles as I lift it toward the door, hesitating for a moment before letting my knuckles meet the carved wood. The sound echoes, thick and foreboding, through the silent hall.

I lower my hand, heart pounding, and wait.

13

Ava

“Enter.”

I push the door open and step inside with my head down. The room is heavy with shadows pooling in the corners. In my periphery, I take in the barest impression of a four-poster bed with emerald-green curtains.

For a moment, there’s only silence.

He’s doing it on purpose. He wants to make me squirm.

“Come here,” he finally says.

I walk forward, stopping a few paces away, hands stiff at my sides. I’m startled when warm fingers tilt my chin up. I fix my gaze on his firm jaw.

“You have permission to look at me.” A half smile plays at his mouth.

When I lift my gaze, there’s a spark in his eyes as he studies me—a knowing glint.

But he doesn’t know anything.

I beam at him. “I’ve missed you.”

A flicker of something—pleasure, maybe—crosses his face, but it vanishes just as quickly. “Did you?”