ONE
Callista
I’m smilingthrough a heart attack.
The little organ in my chest thumps like a dying animal, railing against my ribcage. Blood is rushing to my ears, so much so that I can’t hear the music around me.
My fingers tighten on the banister as I stare down at the party beneath me. There are students all around me on the first floor, chatting, flirting, trying to get laid. The doors of most of the rooms are closed, showing that they’re occupied.
I scan the faces. Most of them look happy. Every now and then, somebody taps me on the shoulder and tells me this is the best party they’ve been to.
This is it.
It’s the day of all my blood, sweat, and tears culminating into the biggest event in Allister College’s social calendar—the Kappa House annual welcome party. Any senior who is invited knows they’re lucky. We only invite seniors who have shown promise during their college career. Most of them are members of other sororities or fraternities, but since I became president, I decidedto invite non-members, too. I want everybody in college to see it as a social club that they need to work hard to get into.
“Callista, this is amazing. Never thought I’d be drinking champagne at a college party. Real classy stuff.” Boyle, the captain of the hockey team, grins at me. He’s huge, and alarmingly attractive in the way only a jock can be.
“Thanks. Have you tried the hors d'oeuvres? They’re great, too.”
“I did try them.” Boyle smiles. “I couldn’t tell what was in them, but they’re the best thing I’ve eaten. This isn’t like a regular party. It’s way better. All the girls are hot.”
I cough. Thankfully, he isn’t flirting with me tonight.
His gaze lands on Jennifer Martin, the treasurer. She is wearing a satin mini-dress, looking like she stepped out of an old money catalogue. Her blonde hair is straight and shiny. She fought me tooth and nail about inviting athletes like Boyle, who aren’t part of Greek life, but he’s big around campus, and his dad is a coach who often throws parties. I need them as my future clients, which is why I invited them. Of course, I didn’t tell Jennifer that. I told her he was popular and respected on campus, and our party would be the talk of the town if he came.
Jennifer notices and walks up, just as I tell Boyle. “Jennifer didn’t want me to invite you. Maybe stay away from her.”
Jennifer’s eyes widen, and she squeaks in embarrassment. I guess having the attention of a hot jock is making her reconsider her stance.
She tightens her hold on a glass of wine. “I was against inviting Boyle, true, but after seeing how much he and the others you invited are contributing to the atmosphere of the event, I have changed my mind.”
Ha. It feels good to have her acknowledge that I was right.
That makes my day.
Boyle puts his arm around her shoulder, and they drift away. I stand a little bit straighter. Things are going well. But I can’t fight the doubt at the back of my mind.
Today is all about showing the world what I can do. I, Callista Vale, will go down in sorority history as the best president and event organizer. Future generations will try to live up to my legend.
Glory aside, the real reason I’m doing this is that all these students and their parents could become potential future clients.
After I graduate, I’ll start my own event management company. I’m going to become independent from my father, show the world that Callista Vale is a woman of substance. I’m more than my tainted last name. I’m smart, competent, and hardworking.
My chest tightens when a tall, dark figure strides in through the doors. He’s wearing nondescript clothes: a black sweatshirt, black slacks, black shoes. The sleeves are rolled up to reveal muscled forearms and a hint of a tattoo. Silver-framed glasses are perched on his nose. His face is perfect, like a Greek sculpture, though his mouth is twisted into a scowl.
Despite wearing clothes that are meant to hide him, he stands out because of his height.
My gaze sticks to him like bubblegum to concrete. He’s magnetic, like he was born to command a room, born to rule an empire.
I invited Dmitry Antonov, but I didn’t think he’d actually come. He’s an honors student. A genius who has the best grades in accounting and who won the Dean’s award for creating a new system for online accounting. He’s not the type who parties. He’s a recluse and prefers to stay away from social events.
But I’ve heard the rumors that his family is related to the Russian mafia. Once, someone told me there’s a secret societyat Allister that recruits people to join the mafia, and he’s the organizer.
A shiver trembles up my spine. Something about him makes my body tense. But not in fear. In anticipation.
When he looks up, his eyes meet mine, like he knows I’ve been staring at him. Like he felt my gaze.
I turn away, unable to withstand the intensity of his gaze. He can strip a person naked with those steely eyes of his. There’s no warmth in them.
