“What about her?” I picked up the statuette of the school crest from the desk. I pretended not to give a shit about this conversation as I tossed it from one hand to the other, debating whether it was worth keeping intact.
“I suggest you leave her alone.”
I stilled the piece in my grip.
I held it there for a moment, giving her time to think about her words.
To play them back in her head and realize what a mistake they had been.
At my lack of response, she nodded slowly. Her shoulders slouched as regret slipped through the cracks in her composure.
Suggestionswere only useful when the person listening actually gave a fuck. I didn’t.
I had a long-standing policy against anyone questioning me. It explained most of my issues with authority figures.
Hersuggestion—and those of others—was as important to me as learning how bad it hurt to run my cock through a cheese grater.
Just as fast as her shoulders sagged, they straightened.
I let the statuette fall from my hand. A subdued smirk spread across my lips when it hit the floor and shattered. Metal fragments scattered across the floor.
“Wow,” I drawled, nudging a piece with the toe of my boot. “That looked old.” I peered from the broken pieces back up to her. “Family heirloom? Passed down through generations, maybe?” I spread my arms, motioning around theoffice. “You should think about getting a rug in here. Wouldn’t want anything valuable breaking.”
Arisono remained indifferent, clearing her throat and tapping her knuckle to her lips like she wanted to restart this entire conversation.
When she spoke again, she chose her words carefully. “What I mean is, Blair has a history. I don’t trust her. Please leave her alone. Pretend she doesn’t exist.”
“I don’t trust you.Especiallyif you allowed Blair into this university, knowing she was a liability,” I stated. “That goes against Saint Vale’s policy.” I tsked.
Her hand rose to the Chanel clip holding her hair in place, twisting it once between her fingers. “Blair’s stepfather used his position as leverage.”
“And what position would that be?”
Her attention slid briefly to the door before returning to me. “He was a Son. First Benefactor blood.”
Something sharp tore through me.
That’s not what Nico told me.
That’s not what I found when I did my deep dive on her.
According to our research, her parents were losers who’d hit the lottery and made friends with someone who had plenty of pull here, allowing Blair admittance.
I’d be smashing Nico’s fucking iPad for that bad information, along with whatever other tech bullshit he stashed in his dorm.
My gaze hardened as my thoughts shifted back to Blair.
Who is her stepfather, then?
I needed to know everything.
For all I knew, I’d met her stepfather, if he was an Elder Night Son.
I could’ve shaken his hand, shared a drink, plotted a murder with him.
Some Elder Night Sons kept their identities secret. Graduation freed you from showing your face. You only had to unmask while you were a Current Son.
After that, you could wear the mask whenever you wanted. Some Elder Sons never took theirs off.
