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Wren downs both her shots as I do mine, and as she slams her last glass down on the counter, Nigel follows mere seconds later. My face twists into a sour expression as the thickness of the Bailey’s sits heavily in my stomach, while the alcohol leaves a burning sensation down my throat.

As the alcoholic drinks slosh and swirl within me, their effects surge through my veins, spreading warmth from my gut outward. My head spins, making the room tilt precariously, and I grip the smooth wood of the bar, using it as an anchor against the unsettling feeling.

The drinks must have been stronger than I was expecting, and given I’ve never been much of a drinker, my body just isn’t used to throwing them back the way I just did. I’m suddenly very grateful I’m already sitting on a bar stool, otherwise I’d likely be swaying where I stood.

I don’t know how Wren is able to cope with drinking double what I’ve had.

The one good thing that comes from the alcohol is my good friend, Liquid Courage, and my confidence is growing with each inhibition I lose.

I lean closer to Nigel, giving him my sweetest smile as I lay my hand on his bicep, squeezing it just enough for him to know it was intentional. Not that he’s got anything to write home about when compared with Lawson, but then again, Lawson’s muscles look like they’ve been carved by the Devil himself.

“Thank you for the drinks. That was so incredibly kind of you. I’m Lola, and this is Jenny,” I tell him, using the fake names Bram gave us after he created a whole backstory for us both.

He grabs my hand from his bicep and pulls it up to his lips before pressing a kiss onto the back of it. “I’m Nigel; it’s great to meet you.”

I can practically feel Wren rolling her eyes from beside me because he’s completely ignoring her, but he’s playing straight into our plan. Unfortunately, his slimy behaviour combined with the alcohol I just rapidly consumed is adding to my nausea, and I quickly pull my hand from his, giving him a sweet smile so he doesn’t take it as a rejection.

He shuffles his barstool closer until his body is almost touching mine, and I’m overwhelmed by the cologne he’s wearing; it only gets stronger the nearer he is.

As Nigel’s rough palm presses against my bare thigh, a wave of nauseating disgust washes over me, making my stomach churn. The small talk is almost mind-numbing, and completely predictable, with him turning every answer into an innuendo, or a way to flirt with me.

With each random question he asks me, I reel off the fabricated answers Bram drilled into me, while Wren chimes in whenever my fuzzy brain lets me down, filling in the gaps with ease.

With each question, his hand drifts higher on my leg, sending a hot, acidic tide surging up my throat. At the same time, I can feel the weight of Lawson’s gaze on me, watching my every move, judging me for letting Nigel touch me this way. But I don’t know how to stop him without blowing the whole assignment.

“Are you here by yourself?” I ask. “I’m surprised a good-looking guy like you isn’t surrounded by people.”

His eyes light up at my compliment, his smile growing wider. He then drops his gaze to stare at my chest, something he’s been doing regularly since we started talking. It would appear Nigel is a boob man, and he struggles to look at anything else.

“My friends are around here somewhere, but between you and me, I’m here alone for a reason.” He drops his voice slightly, trying to add an air of mystery to it that might win over a less intelligent woman, but not me.

“Oh, now you have me intrigued.” I lean forward, playing into his story.

“Can you keep a secret?”

I nod as I flutter my lashes at him, trying to appear sweet and innocent. “Of course; I won’t tell a soul.”

Not that I need to. Wren is standing beside him with her phone out, recording everything, but he’s so caught up in me and my boobs, he barely even notices she’s still standing there.

He puffs up his chest, trying to look confident as he says, “I’m actually here on assignment. Have you heard of Crowhurst House?”

I nod, keeping my gaze fixed on him, as if he’s telling me the most interesting story. “You mean the male-only elite dorm? Where the most popular guys on campus live?”

He nods slowly as he adds, “It’s so much more than just a dorm. We’re all Pledges, training to be part of a secret society, where only the most powerful men get inducted. I just so happen to be the highest-ranking Pledge by a long way.”

Oh, I can just imagine what shade of purple Lawson’s face will be right about now. He’s worked hard for that top spot, so for Nigel to imply it belongs to him, without earning it… I’m certain Lawson will make him pay for that statement alone.

Still, I flutter my eyelashes like a bimbo, flicking my hair as I pretend to be impressed by him. “Oh wow, I had no idea anything like that even existed here at Shadowmere.”

More people fill the room, and as they try to get to the bar we’re sitting next to, the space between us diminishes, pushing Nigel closer and jostling Wren a little further away from me.

I can still see her, and I’m not worried about the recording, since she just got everything we need, but I’ll continue with the plan to see what more he divulges, hoping Wren is still close enough to pick it up.

As a couple of people knock into us, I stumble off the barstool. Nigel reaches out to grab hold of my hip, making sure I don’t fall, and I stabilise myself by placing my hand on his chest. We’re much closer now than I’m comfortable with, but there’s literally nowhere to go, thanks to the people crowding around us trying to get to the bar.

Nigel leans in so his lips are beside my ear, and I have to bite my lip to hold back the ripple of repulsion I get from his proximity. “There are actually four Houses training Pledges, but the Crows are the best, so you don’t need to worry about the others. I’m responsible for helping keep this university safe, as well as the country in general.”

Wow, this guy really has a heightened sense of grandeur, and it takes all of my effort not to roll my eyes at his posturing.