I ripped through those gifts in a rage, in a storm.
I didn’t take care to read the cards.
By the time I realised my mistake, all the cards and ribbons and wrappings were strewn around my bedchamber, a mess that was too impossible to make any sense of.
My answer should be, “Oh, I do love my leather bag from my Nonna.”
But I don’t know who it’s from.
The other way I could go is to thank Serena specifically for what she gifted me.
But I don’t know which present came from her.
My smile is tight—
And before I can fumble through my biggest faux pas of any New Year to date, Dray saves me.
“Not all gifts were appropriate this year.”
It takes a beat for his words to sink in, but once they do, I turn a frown on him.
He didn’t save me for the sake of helping me, he interjected to dig at me.
I see that in the way he looks at me, a firm stare as he slowly lifts his cup to his pink lips, and sips.
I make a face and throw it down to my tray.
I hardly consider a Vacheron Constatin platinum timepiece to be in any way inappropriate. It was the exact sort of gift required for our families’ connection.
What the fuck does he want, a whole skyscraper? A city?
“I had to get my fiancé a gift,” Landon mumbles between bites, all bitter and moody about it. “I’ve had one conversation with the woman, and all of a sudden I have to find the perfect present based off what? And it cost,” he adds with a look at me, like I get it, like I understand spending more than the limit of my allowance, but I don’t.
So I just force a tight smile.
Landon throws his gaze aside—
And I trace it to the stocky figure looming over the table.
Mildred holds her tray in one strong hand, her furrowed gaze shifting between the faces angled up at her.
Her broad shoulders block my view of the atrium and much of the draught.
Tentatively, she sets her tray down.
No one says anything.
So she sits, sinking slowly, unsurely, into the seat beside Dray—
Then turns her suddenly loathing stare on me.
Not a fucking chance.
I kick back from the table and, in a heartbeat, stalk out of the mess hall.
I walk right into a crowd of students sheathed in snowsuits.
My steps stumble.
