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Where I belong.
I never felt like I belonged anywhere until I met Hadley and the rest of the gang. Then, I finally felt like I’d found a place where I fit in, but now with Emilia back, it’s thrown a wrench in everything and made me realize I’ll never truly be rid of her. As Hadley’s best friend, Emilia will always be around in some way or another.
Perhaps friends aren’t meant to become your family.
Perhapsmy place is with my family.
I mean, surely, if I’m going to belong anywhere, it will be with my own flesh and blood, right? Just because that place wasn’t with my father, doesn’t mean I don’t belong with the rest of my family.
I’m still frowning as I say, “Alright, and what exactly are these tasks?”
Grinning, Robbie fishes a white envelope out of the inner pocket of his blazer and hands it over. It’s made from the same expensive cardstock as the one I found in my textbook earlier.
I glance up at him before flicking my gaze down to the envelope in my hand and slowly opening it, pulling out the card inside.
Ridgeway’s Presidentis a long-time stylophile with an impressive collection. Steal one.
“What the fuck is a stylophile?”I ask, still frowning at the page.
“Someone who collects fountain pens.”
I dart my gaze up to Robbie, cocking a brow in anare you fucking serious?expression.
“So you want me to steal a fountain pen? What the fuck does the King’s Elite want with a fountain pen?”
“It’s not about the pen. It’s about whether you have the gall to do it.” Robbie’s tone is pure challenge. One I readily accept as I lift my chin and stare him down.
He smirks, stating, “You have one week,” before turning and leaving me alone in the library.
One week to steal some stupid pen? Easy!
Chapter6
EMILIA
Embarrassingly, I hide in my room until I’m certain Hawk and Wilder have left for class. Only then do I sneak down the stairs and take a second attempt at making my morning coffee before curling up on the sofa in the living room. Grabbing the remote, I channel surf before landing on the morning’s news report, although I struggle to focus on what the reporter is saying as my thoughts jump back and forth between my confrontation this morning with Wilder and the fresh round of terror at knowing there’s a stalker somewhere out there looking for me. I honestly think I was in shock yesterday and I didn’t fully comprehend the significance of that revelation, but after having all night to fret over it, the reality of it all is hitting me and zapping any remaining energy I had.
Looking at my watch, I note that I’d usually be sitting at my desk by now, with a steaming cup of coffee, going through emails and hoping Martha, my boss and mentor, will send a manuscript my way. Instead, I’m stuck in the last place on earth I want to be, with housemates who have made it crystal clear they don’t want me here, unable to go outside or get away from them for fear that whoever this psycho is will be lying in wait.
My thoughts run over everything Hadley and Kai told me yesterday, about what happened to the previous guys I dated or slept with and the escalation in this stalker’s actions. I can’t believe how fucking blind I was to all of that. How fucking naive it was of me to shrug off every surprise gift and strange note.
“Ooh, someone’s got a secret admirer,”Mel jokes, nudging me in the shoulder when we spot the large bouquet of peonies—my favorite flower—at our dorm room door.
Bending down, I notice a card tucked amongst the petals with my name scrawled across it. “Shut up,” I grumble, my cheeks heating as Mel coos behind me.
“Well, who are they from?” she asks far too excitedly as I lift them off the ground, tilting my head to breathe them in.
Choosing not to answer, I cock my brow in a silent gesture for her to hurry up and open the door. When she finally does, I step inside and set the bouquet on the table, extracting the card before she can snatch it up and deliberately turning my back on her so I can have some privacy to read it.
You looked beautiful today.
I haveto read it twice, not sure how I feel about the blunt statement.
“Oh, how sweet,” Mel fawns, having obviously read the card over my shoulder.
“You don’t think it’s creepy?”
“What? No! It’s probably someone who has seen you around campus and is just too shy to approach you.”
