“So I’ve been at St. Ives for over a year now, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone drunk. Which, on a university campus, is…statistically impossible.”
A pause. Not judgmental, exactly, more an amused silence that made her feel like she’d asked something accidentally revealing.
“Impossible in Canada,” Georgina said smoothly, dabbing the corner of her mouth with a linen napkin. “America. Europe. Take your pick.”
“UR men don’t get drunk,” Charles said, cutting to the chase.
Bea blinked.Did he just say that with a straight face?“Ever?”
“We don’t lose control,” Hunter stated, like it was part of the national anthem.
Which meant her next question was possibly close to treason. “Why not?”
“Who’d trust you with anything important if you can’t even hold your own frame up?” Hunter asked.
“Someone might hand you a multimillion-dollar decision over dessert,” Charles continued, taking a sip of wine.
“Or a war might break out,” Mason added. “Hard to lead troops when you can’t walk straight.”
Bea looked around the table. No one flinched. No eye-rolls. Not a trace of irony. Just calm, inherited certainty.
Georgie had been listening, elbows on the table, chin in her hands. She grinned. “You’re all so romantic. I love the UR.”
Bea leaned back, spine still straight, like distance might help her see the full shape of what they were saying. “You’re really telling me none of you have ever—” She stopped, turned to Gage.
He lifted one dark brow.
Right. If anyone had, it wouldn’t be Gage.
“It’s not that they don’t drink,” Naomi clarified. “They just drink with discipline. Like everything else.”
“And no drugs,” Isabel added, crisp. “They’re not part of our world. Especially not in circles that matter.”
Staff in white gloves moved between them, clearing plates without a sound. Bea noticed that while they weren’t there for conversation, neither were they dismissed. They wereacknowledged politely, routinely, small courtesies as constant as the candlelight.
She turned to Nate. “Even you?”
“Especially me.”
“What about you three?” Bea gestured toward Georgina, Naomi, and Isabel.
“Control isn’t gendered here,” Georgina said, lips twitching.
Isabel didn’t miss a beat. “No one gets to be messy, Bey. Not if they want to matter.”
A murmur of agreement. Not rehearsed. Just lived-in. The kind of thing they didn’t have to think about anymore.
“There are so many rules,” Bea said softly, almost to herself.
“Not really.” Nate’s voice was low. Oddly gentle. “The right amount.”
Enough to know what was expected. To show them how to flourish within the lines they all knew, down to the millimeter.
Every time she thought she understood this place, it unfolded in another layer. Beautiful in a way it almost felt it shouldn’t be.
A world where no one overindulged felt unnatural, even repressive. And maybe it was. But no one here appeared trapped. If anything, she was sitting among the most confident people she’d ever met.
Maybe…that was because of their codes, and not in spite of them.
