Page 1 of Kept

Chapter One

If Bourdillon University was a puzzle,I was a piece from another box that didn’t fit in the grand scheme of it.

My tour guide, who probably looked like Clark Kent on his worst day, and better than Superman on his best, made that painfully clear just by breathing the same air.

“We’re so pleased to have you with us, Miss Fawkes. Your essay was impressive- it went up to the Dean of Students. Not many can say that.”

I trailed half a step behind him, trying not to make googly eyes at the ribbed cathedral ceiling and cut-crystal chandeliers. There was an actual Matisse hanging on the wall.

And this was just the foyer.

“Thank you.” My voice echoed through the massive space. “I can’t tell you how grateful I am to be here.”

Gabriel Spears looked at me over his shoulder, his eyes as blue as the hottest flame. His three-piece suit was tailor-made for him, showing off broad shoulders. Even the professors here were gorgeous, like they were hand-picked to show off the perfection that was both offered and expected at the university.

“The Hall of Art is just ahead. I hold my classes there- anytime you need to find me, this is where I’ll be. Unless I’m giving tours. The campus is enormous, but I’m at your service if you ever need a guide.” There was a dimple in his left cheek even when he wasn’t smiling. I bet that just slayed the ladies, especially when his blue-black hair was just the tiniest bit rumpled like it was now. I wondered if he ripped his shirt open right now if I’d see a big red S covering what was probably a mouthwatering chest.

Professor Spears wasn’t just an art professor, but the Scholarship Committee Chairman for Bourdillon. He looked the part, in a bespoke suit and tie, towering over me.

But for all his nice words, he was like a sculpted work of art, beautiful to look at but as cold as the marble he’d been carved from. He surveyed me up and down when he thought I wasn’t looking. I couldn’t bring myself to meet his gaze afterwards, wondering if I’d see disgust there.

I was glad I’d at least attempted to dress up for the tour, wearing my one nice dress (secondhand) with a cardigan (Mom’s closet) to hide the lack of sleeves and hole cut in the back, and a pair of black pumps (Wal-Mart). Didn’t stop me from feeling like something scraped out from a dumpster, though. Not when everything in Bourdillon screamed money and Spears dripped haughtiness.

The building was over a hundred years old, a glittering monstrosity of granite and marble with scowling grotesques topping every wall. Usually, you needed two things to step foot within Bourdillon’s walls: a name everyone knew, and the kind of money that made winning the lottery seem gauche.

I had neither, and that meant I was going to have to spend what little money I had left after bills on clothes that made me seem less like a scholarship charity case and more like someone who belonged here. The fact that I was an older student- twenty-four now- and finishing a degree started in a community college already painted a large enough target on my back.

One essay had changed my entire life. I went from college drop-out to Second-Chance Scholarship winner two months ago. The scholarship, part of Bourdillon’s philanthropy initiative and headed by Professor Spears, was designed to take students who’d fallen off the path to success and redirect them back onto it.

In essence, I was a charity project to make rich kids feel good about themselves.

But I never could have afforded Bourdillon’s tuition fees myself, and just sniffing the admissions envelope probably would’ve drained my meager bank account. The essay my mother had convinced me to submit had saved our asses.

My library science degree that’d fallen to the wayside was back on track to be finished this year. With a degree from Bourdillon, no one would turn me down for an archival job. The scholarship came with stipulations, of course; it wasn’t entirely a free ride, but I wasn’t going to sneeze at the opportunity to be here.

“I’ll be working in the library after hours; is it near the Hall of Art?”

“It’s just up ahead. You’ll be right down the hall from me. I’m usually here after hours as well, so you’ll never be alone, Jane.”

Instead of reassuring me, there was something vaguely ominous about his words. Bourdillon was massive, but I hadn’t been afraid to get a little lost in it until he said that. It made me feel like there’d be eyes on my back no matter where I went.

I forced myself to give him a tight smile, hoping my nervousness wasn’t written all over my face. I’d always been a mouse, but Bourdillon seemed like the kind of place that chewed mice up and spit them back out, leaving them to wonder what the hell had happened. “Thanks. I’m sure I’ll memorize the layout in a few days.”

He seemed like he was about to say something else, perfectly-carved lips framed around a silent word- he was giving me serious Galatea vibes, like a master artist had just sculpted him yesterday and fired him to life in an oversized kiln- but he swallowed whatever he was going to say when we reached a broad set of doors with Tiffany windows.

“Here it is,” he said, pulling a huge oak handle. “Mrs. Clarke is the head librarian and your new boss. She’ll make you feel right at home.”

I felt a little like Belle being given the gift of her heart, but instead of being blindfolded and led by a Beast, I was ushered in by Professor Spears, who rested his hand in the small of my back as he nudged me inside. His palm was warm, burning like a brand through the dress.

He seemed like the kind of guy who gave those accidentally-on-purpose touches to women because he knew what it did to them, which strengthened my resolve to keep my breathing steady and not so much as twitch.

Unfortunately, my breath did hitch in my throat, but that was because the library was a fucking Wonder of the World, and not because Spears’ hand was only inches from my ass.

Or so I told myself.

“How big is it?” I blurted out. The entire north wall was windows, surrounded on both sides by three stories of books. A spiral staircase was nestled comfortably in the corner of the room, and the stacks were glorious. I could climb those bad boys all day, just breathing in the smells of paper, glue, and ink. I took a surreptitious deep breath, wanting to taste the scent of a real library again, but got…

Heady woods, juniper, and a tinge of charcoal. Spears smelled as good as he looked.

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