“Thank you, sir,” I said, hurrying forward to stand before him, then edging my way in front of the vacant wingback chair facing his desk. “I’m very excited to be here.”
He smiled a well-practiced smile that was nearly identical to his portrait. “We are even more excited,” he continued, nodding at me to take a seat. The moment I sat, he did as well, his own chair was far more impressive, with a hand carved scene depicted just behind his head. He blocked most of it, but I could make out branches with intricate detailing.
A silence stretched between us for a few seconds before he leaned across the table, hands pressing palm down on the shiny top. There was not a single thing on it, despite how gigantic it was. “As you probably know, Violet, Arbon Academy has a long history of being one of the top schools in the world.”
He was being modest. It wasthetop school with almost zero competition, but I nodded, playing along with the game. Thankfully the dean did not need encouragement to talk. “In that regard, we have some rules to go over with you.”
Now this … this was what I expected from Arbon and their dean. Because heaven forbid the charity case sully their precious halls with my gaucheness. I was already guessing in my head what the rules would be:Don’t talk to the royals. Don’t touch a royal. Don’t breath in the direction of a royal. Be seen and not heard.
“First, and most important, you represent Arbon, so at all times you will be in full uniform, with only a few select night events and activities that are uniform free.”
“No problem at all, sir.” And it was really wasn’t. Uniforms gave us an even playing field in one way at least.
The next few rules were standard things. No getting drunk and embarrassing the school—whoops. Curfew at 10 P.M—also, whoops. And a few other bits and pieces about grades, study hours, and asking for permission to leave campus.
“And that’s all we ask of you, Violet,” he finished, and I knew I was looking a little open-mouthed and slack-jawed.
“What about approaching the royals?” I burst out because, honestly … how were their no rules about that? I couldn’t go near them in real life, surrounded as they were by security and such. But here it was free run? Even for the scholarship kids?
The dean’s grin broadened, and an uneasy feeling swirled in my gut. Something about his smile was giving me major creeps. Like father, like son, apparently.
“We actively encourage integration between our students,” he said, pressing his hands together in front of him. “In fact, I’ve organized a student to help you settle in, find your classes today, and learn the ropes.”
His head turned toward the door behind me, and my first thought wasplease don’t be Brandon.I would probably be kicked out before the end of the day if I had to spend prolonged time with his ass-turd of a son.
Thankfully, it was another student who sauntered into the room, dressed in the uniform too, but a much cooler, less “perfectly starched” version. Alex looked like a surfy dream wrapped in a royal package. My body tightened, both in nerves and … well, other things, because he looked too damned good in his suit. Unlike mine, his was tailored—fitted across broad shoulders, then cutting down with his athletic body. His blond hair was tousled, like he’d run his hands through it multiple times, but somehow it still fell perfectly about his face.
“Alex,” I choked out, before swinging back to the dean. “He’s a crown prince,” I whisper-yelled, trying to figure out what the hell was happening here. Princes weren’t student liaisons. This was a bad idea for multiple reason, but also … he was also far too fucking sexy. I wasn’t sure I could be trusted around him.
Although apparently there were no rules about fraternizing with the opposite sex, even if they were royal.
With a low, rumbling laugh that sent small tingles down my spine, Alex leaned over and kissed me on the cheek, his lips warm against my flushed skin. “Morning, Violet,” he murmured, lingering longer than was socially acceptable.
My attention flicked back to the dean, only to find him still smiling and not even remotely about to reprimand either of us for inappropriate behavior.
He stood, spreading his arms widely, and I was so freaking suspicious of this guy. No one in a position of power was this warm and inviting. Dean Morgan was hiding something major, and I reminded myself to never let my guard down with him.
“I knew I could rely on you Alex,” he said in that same warm-but-creepy voice. “Take good care of our Violet. I believe she’s going to fit in here better than we even expected.”
My brain flinched at those words, like there was a deeper meaning I was missing, but I’d picked up enough to know that something wasn’t quite right.
There was no time for me to ponder it before I was being hauled out of the room. Alex had one arm wrapped around my shoulders as he yelled goodbye to the dean.
I let him manhandle me for a few minutes before my natural independence kicked in. You didn’t grow up an orphan in the world I lived in and learn to ever rely on anyone.
It wasn’t in my nature. It wasn’t going to change today just because some hot-as-fuck prince decided to pay me a little attention.
Nope.
As gently as I could, I freed myself from his hold. His eyes widened, and the smile faded from his lips. “Shit, sorry, was I hurting you?” he asked.
I shook my head. “No, not at all. I just like to … walk on my own.”
The slightest smile returned. “Fair enough. Guess I need to pay closer attention to my little American princess.”
A snort escaped, and it was so gloriously unprincess-like that both of us burst into laughter because the timing really couldn’t have been better. Alex looked younger when he laughed, and I enjoyed how relaxed he seemed to be. The few times we’d chatted, it felt effortless to be around him; he made it easy to forget that he was even a prince, let alone a crown prince.
“What’s your first class?” he asked, starting to walk the rest of the way along the hall and letting me catch up on my own. As requested.
