Jamie almost spits out his water. I like surprising him—almost as much as I like it when he surprises me. I hadn’t pegged him as the tattoo type.
“Precocious,” he says.
“You studied real hard for the SAT, didn’t you?”
“Some of us have to get scholarships,” he snaps back, surprising himself a bit.
My smile widens, just a hair. He’s getting the hang of this.
“You went on scholarship? Impressive.”
“Thanks. I-it’s just a state school, though. Nothing like MIT.” That delightful wash of pink rises to his cheeks.
I need to be careful, I remind myself. Jamie in my world is like a guppy in a tank of sharks. It’d be all too easy to wrap him around my little finger without even trying.
“Ivies are eighty percent pageantry, twenty percent elitism,” I say with a shrug. “State schools are proportionately represented amongst my top performers, after controlling forapplication distribution.”
“Really?”
I flash my fangs. “I know MIT grads who couldn’t parse what I just said.”
He tucks his hair behind his ear, and it’s the first time I see the subtle point and his gold hoop earring. Another little surprise.
“Now you’re just flattering me,” he says.
“I’m not.” I hold his gaze.
He blushes brighter and looks out the window.
Geeze, Mor, my voice of reason says.Stop playing with your food.
“It’s true,” I say, easing my tone. “What makes the Ivies special is… pageantry, connections, elitism, and gatekeeping. There are sometrulybrilliant minds who get in on merit, but… the Ivies tend to put them through the wringer. And then people like my father waltz through on favoritism.”
His gaze returns to mine. “Youworked hard, though.”
“I did. I had to fight my way through. And sometimes, I need people who learned how to fight like that. My exec team is a lot of Ivy grads, but no old money. All new ambition. Experts at maneuvering, spinning, leveraging. I love that about them. But Artemis would never be successful without people like you, Jamie. People who focus on the science above all else.”
“I haven’t exactly done much science yet,” he mutters.
“Better watch out, or I’ll get you addicted to jet-setting and you’ll want to try your hand at sales.”
Jamie gives a wry grin. “That… doesn’t seem possible.” His gaze drifts back out the window, and he asks, “Did you ever think about studying cartography? In college?”
“I did. Just to spite my father. But success is the best revenge and… a cartography degree’s about as useful as an art degree.”
“Isn’t there… more to life than just being…useful?”
“For other people. But for a female alpha who wants her dues? No.”
“I’m sorry,” Jamie says.
I crack a smile. “I have three yachts. I’m doing just fine.”
“Three?”
“The fast one, the party one, and the house one,” I say as if the idea of having fewer than three yachts is incomprehensible.
Jamie’s eyes widen—the poor thing is so credulous. “There are that many kinds of yachts?”
