Page 52 of Black Ledger

I really didn’t want to go to a Delta party because it was Chad’s fraternity, and I didn’t want to see him again or talk to him. But I hadn’t told anyone at Kappa Xi what had happened with Chad, so they would expect me to go with them—especially Abigail, since it was her birthday.

So through a tight smile, I said, “Yes, of course.”

Ilya’s eyes flashed to me, his brow furrowing in concern. Fucking twins. They always knew when something was wrong with their counterpart. I didn’t particularly want to explain, so I mouthed to him, It’s fine.

And five hours later, I was walking into the Delta party with ten of my sorority sisters. It was okay. I was a mafia badass; I could avoid one stupid guy if I needed to. Unfortunately, I had absolutely terrible luck because, just as we walked through the door, we ran into Chad and a group of his frat brothers.

I swore under my breath in Russian.

Perfect. Fucking perfect. I plastered a sugar-sweet smile on my face and greeted the group as if nothing had happened between Chad and me five days earlier.

“Oh my God, a keg stand. I’ve always wanted to try one,” my sister squealed and ran out to the backyard. Our sorority sisters followed, and I, too, was about to make my way out when Chad grabbed me by the wrist.

I wanted to rip my hand away, but I needed to be polite and not the mafia bitch who would rip his head off.

“Can I please talk to you?” Chad asked. “I want to apologize.”

“Yes, fine.” I slid a sweet, pliant mask over my features.

Do not have a resting murder face, Xeniya.

He guided me to a couch, sat next to me, and his frat brother walked over and handed us two drinks.

I took mine with a smile. Perhaps I was too used to mafia members treating Morozovs with deference.

I downed the drink almost immediately, so I’d have liquid courage to get through this.

“I am sorry about coming on too strong, Sienna.”

“It’s okay,” I said, but of course it wasn’t. “Really.” I smiled sweetly.

“Oh, good, because I really love having you as a study partner,” he said earnestly, as his frat brother handed me another drink. “I wouldn’t want to lose that.”

“You won’t.”

“Good.” He clapped his hands together while one of his frat brothers said, “Who wants to play King’s Cup?”

Not me. But somehow, I was roped into it.

Halfway through the game, I yawned, and Chad tried to tell me something, but he sounded like he was underwater or like the parents on Peanuts.

I was exhausted, completely wiped, and it was hard to focus on him, which was strange, because I hadn’t done anything remotely taxing today. I wouldn’t classify rebuilding my sister’s couch as taxing.

A bead of sweat rolled down my spine, and I suddenly felt too hot. I blinked and tried to pay attention to Chad’s face. He was saying something, but he talked so slowly, like I had turned an audiobook to 0.5x speed—or honestly 1x, since I usually listened at 2x. These were not useful thoughts, Xeniya. Pull yourself together.

I wanted to take a remote and speed him up because I couldn’t, for the life of me, understand what he was saying.

Blah, blah, something.

My stomach churned, and I felt bile climbing up my throat. I couldn’t tell if the feeling was from drinking too much or from his hand sliding up my thigh and between my legs.

“I feel… sick,” I slurred, stumbling to my feet. “I need the bathroom.”

I staggered away, unsteady on my feet as I tried to make my way through a horde of partygoers. I fell into a door and caught myself by the handle, and the next thing I knew, someone’s hands were around my waist.

“Let me help,” Chad said, steadying me and walking me up the stairs to a bedroom with an en suite bathroom. He guided me to the toilet, where I immediately began to empty the contents of my stomach.

The whole time, he rubbed my back and whispered calming words to me.