Page 17 of Terror Tuesday

“Yeah, see you.”

Walking back toward the busy living room makes my pulse pound harder. In the middle of a group of suited men, I lift onto my toes to try to find the one I’m looking for.

Someone grabs my forearm until I’m halted in position. “And this is Olivia Cardell, president ofONEand Dean’s List regular. Future president of the university.”

When I look up, my stomach drops. Every muscle in my body shakes as I get a sense of the face standing in front of me. Because I don’t dare look directly at it.

“Olivia?” Dean Rutherford asks as he pats the back of my hand.

Without my bidding, my lips form a solid smile. My eyes light up. And despite it only coming out barely as a whisper, my voice doesn’t waver as I take the offered hand in front of me. “Yes, thank you for such a greeting, Dean. Honored to meet you, mister…”

“Reginold Blackwell.” He lifts my hand to his lips and presses them there. I almost vomit on his black leather shoes.

“RepresentativeBlackwell.” The dean of the college of business corrects him.

“Oh, how wonderful.” The words escape my throat, but it’s as if someone else says them.

I focus on the top button of his shirt. The gullet of his double chin wobbles as he says, “I was hoping to meet you so I could invite you to my summer internship.”

Dean Rutherford chuckles, then pats him on the arm. “I’ll let you two talk shop.”

With a frantic look around, I can’t find anyone. No one is there to help me. The woman I avoided earlier expertly ignores her husband, cornering his latest victim with a swift flip of her blonde head.

He takes a sure step. My back presses against the cold wall, but I still feel too warm. Too exposed. My throat tightens around a scream I’m not allowed to release. No one notices. No one ever does. Because I’m Olivia Cardell. The one who always smiles.

My mouth goes dry. His scent. Histastefloods my memories. I’m locked in one position.Help me, I scream inside.

But I have to remain quiet.

He knows I won’t say anything. That’s what makes me his favorite kind of girl.

“Good to see you again, sweetheart. Still keeping your mouth shut like a good servant ofCaliphylla? I do miss our little…agreements.”

“I can’t…” I whisper.

“Sure, you can. I have that internship coming up. If you’dlikea spot on a winning team, one that would see you getting to the top where all your dreams will come true, I hope to see you in my office…again.”

His arm reaches for me to touch the side of my face. Instinctively, I grab his wrist along with his watch. It ticks almost as loud as my heart as he leans in and whispers, “God, I miss your virgin blood on my dick.” Nausea riles through my belly as he strokes his thumb across my cheek.

With tears heating my eyes, I dart under his arm and hurry to the conservatory before I lose it. Before anyone sees the cracks spiderwebbing through my smile, threatening to shatter me into a thousand gleaming shards.

A trickling fountain seems like the best spot for reprieve, and I turn my heels toward it. Flames light up my skin. My jaw tightens. The fear transforms into rage. I hold up his Rolex that I just slipped off his wrist and dangle it over the water.

“Guess you’ll have to find a new toy.” Then, I drop it in, watching the koi fish play with their new treasure.

Movement catches my eye. Elliot stands in the corner of the room with a knowing smirk. He raises his glass to me like a toast—not to survival, but to the girl who just bit back.

Then he nods once.

Like we share a secret.

six

The knockon my door has me scrambling to find my full balaclava. When it’s over my head, I unlock the three deadbolts on my door and throw it open.

A tall, buff guy with black hair gives me a deadpan look behind his russet-colored eyes.

“It’s just me, you freak,” Apollo says, strolling in like he owns the house.