Page 109
It’s probably already over before whatever this is even had the chance to start. A guy like Ciaran only ever wants one thing. And now that he’s had it, he’ll move on to the next one.
The thought shouldn’t bother me, but I find myself grumbling as I keep walking.
By the time I slip back into the dorm building, students are already drifting sleepily through the halls toward the canteen beneath the pale gray light of morning while I keep my head down and head for our floor.
Our dorm door is unlocked. When I slip inside, Damaris is already awake in the tiny kitchen corner, standing over a pan in an oversized academy sweater with messy hair and sleep still clinging to his expression.
He sets the pan down the second he sees me, concern flashing hard across his face. “Lucan said you stayed at the mansion last night, but holy shit, Rowan, you look wrecked. What happened? Why didn’t you text me?”
Guilt tightens in my stomach. “Sorry. I didn’t realize it was that late. So Lucan, huh? What are you now, a couple?”
Damaris bristles. “What are you talking about? Of course not. Though at least he had the decency to inform me.”
“I’m sorry,” I mutter again, grabbing a coffee mug and filling it. My throat still feels dry from the alcohol last night, which is exactly why I don’t usually drink.
“Yeah, well.” Damaris leans back against the kitchen island and studies me with that typical I’m-used-to-watching-over-you look. “You scared the shit out of me, you know that?”
“Yeah.”
I actually did sleep great. And here we go again, my face heating at the memory of Ciaran making me cum so hard my brain temporarily stopped functioning. Of me sucking him off. Of drinking his cum down.
Damaris narrows his eyes. “Why are you blushing?”
“Nothing. He was actually…” I stare into my coffee. “Nice?”
“Nice,” Damaris repeats like the word alone qualifies as a medical emergency. “There are many things I could call Ciaran Virel, Ro. Nice is not one of them.”
“No, really, he actually—”
Damaris folds his arms, studying me. “Did you even sleep?”
I hesitate.
His eyes widen. “Rowan.”
“What?”
“You spent the night at Ciaran Virel’s mansion and now you’re blushing at a simple question.”
I groan and look away, nearly jumping out of my skin at the sudden knock against the door.
My first, ridiculous thought is that Ciaran noticed I left and has come to…what, collect me?
“Are you expecting someone?” Damaris frowns suspiciously.
I hold up my hands. “No?”
I yank open the door, and we both stare in surprise at what very clearly looks like a guard. The man, dressed in a black suit and wearing a permanent scowl, glares at Damaris before shifting his attention to me. “Rowan Ashford?”
“Yes?”
“For tonight.” He dumps a bag into my hands before turning and striding away.
Tonight?
Oh, no. The Legacy Gala. I completely forgot about it. How the hell did I forget about it?
“Good Light, Rowan, check this out.” Damaris has already unzipped the garment bag, pulling out a forest green suit with a crisp white shirt and silver cuffs.
