Page 6 of A Knight’s Revenge: The Complete Series
CHAPTER FOUR
O n Monday morning, I woke up early, threw on some clothes, and began my trek to the dining hall for breakfast. My scholarship came with a meal plan that provided three meals a day, and I intended to use it because, while Dom and Laura did okay for themselves, I was finished spending their money when I didn’t have to.
Mari caught me in the hallway and tagged along, informing me that most students ate in the dining hall, even the ones with kitchens in their dorm rooms and a food delivery app connected to their parents’ black cards. Apparently, the Academy food was excellent.
“You’re sure that’s what you want to wear on your first day, though?” Mari asked, eyeing my tight black jeans, soft V-neck T-shirt, and ratty slip-on Vans. “I know the handbook says there’s not a required dress code, but….”
“Everyone dresses to impress?” I finished for her.
“Yeah. I mean, you’ll see. I wouldn’t call what the girls wear ‘professional’ so much as ‘slutty Gossip Girl ,’ but it’s more about the price tag on the label.”
I just nodded thoughtfully like I was absorbing this information for the first time.
While I knew that it would’ve been a good idea to attempt to blend in a bit more, I’d thought it was a better idea to be dismissed completely—and to be as far from what would have been expected of the Knight Heir as possible.
I am absolutely no one .
I had to admit Mari looked sharp in her high-waisted midthigh tartan skirt and creamy white collared blouse, a delicate bow adorning the collar. She also wore opaque black tights and chunky Mary Jane heels.
The whole outfit probably cost two grand.
“You do look great,” I told her. I hoped she sent a photo to her girlfriend this morning. “But you are also going to roast in those tights when it gets muggy as shit later.”
“ Joder , I know. The sacrifices we make.”
We reached the steps of Holywell Hall, slipping into the stream of students headed to the dining hall that took up the entire east wing of the first floor.
I was getting some looks as we made our way through the building, mostly of general disdain at what I was wearing, and then also a few leers from some gross assholes.
To Mari’s credit, she didn’t appear flustered or embarrassed to be seen with me, and she even snapped something in Spanish that sounded very aggressive at a guy after he made a kissy face at us both. I looked forward to learning some more Spanish swears if we continued to hang out.
We finally entered the dining hall to find it full and busy, the loud hum of laughing and chatter echoing in the cavernous space.
The enormous room had thirty-foot ceilings, and a dozen antique chandeliers hung low throughout the room.
There were buffet lines set up on either side of the hall, and big wooden banquet tables filled the rest of the space, separated into two sections by a long aisle down the middle.
“I’ll go grab us plates,” Mari said next to my ear. “One of the servers is my yoga instructor’s son, so he lets me cut the line.”
“Cool,” I replied as I dropped my bag into the nearest empty seat. “I’ll be here.”
It took me a minute to catalogue my surroundings.
The boys all had on some version of a suit or slacks, some with a jacket and tie, others without.
The girls wore skirts or sharp dresses, most with hem lengths that were not exactly what I’d call “professional.” I saw silk blouses, cashmere sweaters, and a hell of a lot of designer shoes.
There was an abundance of pastels and plaids, and it hurt my eyes .
I’d just whipped my phone out to check in with Max when the chatter in the hall suddenly dimmed, and the crowd that had been lingering around the doors parted as if the movement had been rehearsed.
Three boys strode into the hall, their steps easy and confident, and they marched straight down the center aisle without so much as a glance around them. They took up their seats at a small, private table at the front of the room that was perched on an honest-to-God dais.
My stomach had flipped and my adrenaline had spiked the instant they’d entered the hall. The reverent behavior of the rest of the students told me without even having to look that these were my marks.
The Heirs. Bennett Spencer, Zach Ferrero, and Noah Hargraves.
My former best friends.
I wasn’t sure what I was expecting to feel when I laid eyes on them for the first time in seven years, but as they turned to face their adoring public up on that dais, and I was able to really look at them, it was as if someone had put their fist straight through my chest.
My memories of them suddenly rushed to the surface of my brain after having long been buried and threatened to overwhelm me completely.
I could still make out the boys I’d once known in their faces, but they were definitely grown men now.
Bennett had just turned twenty, and the other two were nineteen—and apparently, they were now also gorgeous, all fucking three of them.
I shook off my momentary paralysis, extremely irritated that the mere sight of them had knocked the wind straight out of me.
So, as their fanboys and girls began to rush their table like groupies at a rock concert, I pulled my shit together and got to work, studying them from my inconspicuous spot at a random table out among the masses.
Bennett sat in the middle, his posture stick straight as he surveyed his subjects with a cool, bored look.
He was the tallest of the three by several inches, putting him somewhere close to six-foot-four.
His chocolate-brown hair was styled into an artful coif on top while expertly faded on the sides.
The baby face of my memories had hardened into sharp cheekbones and a chiseled jaw.
He wore a dark gray suit, tailored perfectly to his broad chest and shoulders, and though I couldn’t see his eyes from where I was sitting, I knew his moss-green tie matched them almost perfectly.
He was as serious as I remembered, ever the leader of the little gang .
Zach sat to his left, his lazy slouch a stark contrast to Bennett’s rigidity, and he was smirking in the direction of one of the male students who’d approached their table and was now talking animatedly at him.
His navy-blue tie hung loose around his neck, and he’d opted out of a suit jacket.
He was the most muscular of the group, his corded tattooed forearms on full display where his shirtsleeves were rolled to his elbows.
His black hair was cut similar to Bennett’s, but he kept the top much messier, the disheveled strands falling onto his forehead.
And it was hard to tell for sure from my vantage point, but I thought I saw a hint of silver glinting around his lower lip when he leaned over to say something to Bennett with a sly smile, so he may have a lip ring.
Apparently, Zach was off his leash while he was running around the Academy unsupervised, because I couldn’t imagine the piercings and the multitudes of tattoos that I could make out just on his forearms were sanctioned by the Families. He looked like a rock star had a baby with a CEO.
Finally, my gaze moved to Noah. His kind smile hadn’t changed much, and he still wore glasses, but the thin frames that had always been just a little too big for his face when we were kids had been replaced with stylish, thick-framed, dark ones.
I knew from memory that his eyes were a deep blue color, and they were currently focused on the girl in front of him as he made polite conversation with her.
She leaned suggestively over the table, cleavage on full display, and Noah’s eyes somehow remained on her face even though she was very clearly trying to wave her boobs at him.
His golden-blond hair was still a little shaggy, though it seemed he’d learned to tame it over the years because it now just looked expertly tousled.
He was the leanest of the three, but by no means skinny, his slim navy suit accentuating his long limbs.
He’d opted for no tie, the rebel, offering his adoring fans a tiny peek at his tanned chest. Of the three, he had the most approachable and inviting air about him, and I wondered how much of that was real.
“Here you go,” Mari said as she appeared next to me.
She slid a plate full of bacon, eggs, and fruit in front of me, and she’d even put together to-go cups of coffee for us both.
She tossed a cursory glance at the front of the hall and then just tucked into her breakfast, obviously uninterested in the activity there.
“That’s the usual at mealtimes. The Tier Ones vying for inner-circle status.
The single girls trying to catch their attention. Same shit, new year.”
“Mmm,” I grunted around a mouthful of bacon.
“There is one thing I should probably warn you ab?—”
“Greetings, new students of Holywell Academy!”
One of the fanboys had jumped on top of a table at the front of the hall and was now commanding the attention of the room.
It was Chad Hendrickson, sophomore and son of the owner of one of the largest hedge funds in the City.
Hendrickson was solidly Tier One—meaning their net worth was in the eight-to-nine-figure range—and as financial industry titans, they were linked to Spencer.
“Chad Hendrickson, Tier One sophomore,” Mari whispered in my ear. “He fancies himself inner circle.”
“Oh, okay,” I replied like this was news to me.