Page 43 of Misconducts & Temptation

But first, I'd have to muster up the courage to go.

As I stepped outside, the warm breeze hit my face, snapping me back to the present. The question gnawed at me—would Keaton be a better husband than William? I didn’t know Keaton at all. What if he was just as cruel, or worse? What if he had expectations I couldn't meet?

I chewed my lip, my thoughts swirling like leaves in a storm. The idea of marrying William made my skin crawl. He had already made it clear that he expected me to give up my education, and his insinuations about what else he wanted from me were enough to make me sick. The very thought of being bound to him felt like a death sentence.

At least Keaton was giving me an option. We were meeting to discuss the terms of our arrangement, and I would have a say in this marriage, unlike with William. That tiny sliver of control was something I desperately clung to.

I headed toward River Styx, my heart pounding like a drum in my chest. Nervousness gnawed at me, but determination fueled my steps. This was my chance to gather more information, to see if Keaton could offer something better than the hell I faced with William.

The streets were quieter now as evening approached, casting long shadows that stretched across the pavement. The entrance to River Styx loomed ahead.

With a deep breath, I stepped inside.

I pushed open the door, a small bell tinkling overhead to announce my arrival. The place was moderately busy but not overcrowded, with clusters of students occupying tables and booths. My eyes scanned the room for Keaton, but there was no sign of him. Maybe he had changed his mind or got caught up in something else.

Trying not to dwell on it, I joined the line at the counter. The barista, a friendly-faced girl with vibrant pink hair, smiled as she took orders from the students ahead of me. I glanced at the chalkboard menu above her head, filled with various coffee and tea options in colorful chalk. But my mind was set—I needed something refreshing.

As I inched closer to the counter, my gaze kept darting to the door, half-expecting Keaton to walk in any moment. The minutes felt like hours as I shuffled forward with the line.

Finally, it was my turn. "Hi," I said to the barista, trying to sound more cheerful than I felt. "Can I get a strawberry lemonade?"

"Sure thing," she replied, her fingers flying over the register keys. "Anything else?"

I shook my head and handed her my student ID for payment. "Just that."

She swiped my card and handed it back with a receipt. "Your drink will be ready in just a minute."

I moved to the side, waiting by the pickup counter. I looked at the receipt.

$3.48.

More than I wanted to spend, but I had some cash I'd been saving, and honestly, the last time I bought a drink from here was in December and they were doing holiday-themed hot chocolate.

Still.

I couldn't ignore a slight hint of guilt at the indulgence.

If Keaton didn't show up by the time I got my drink, I'd leave it at that. No use worrying over someone who didn't care enough to keep an appointment he created in the first place.

My thoughts drifted back to our brief encounter in the locker room and how different he had seemed from his public persona. Maybe this whole thing had been a mistake—a momentary lapse of judgment on his part.

"Strawberry lemonade for Elodie," called out the barista.

I stepped forward and took the cold drink from her hand, offering a quick thank you before turning away from the counter. As I walked toward an empty table by the window, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of disappointment mixed with relief.

Maybe it was better this way—simpler, less complicated.

I took a tentative sip of the strawberry lemonade. The tangy sweetness hit my tongue first, followed by a refreshing burst of cold that seemed to clear away the day's fatigue. It was like tasting summer in a glass, and for a moment, I allowed myself to enjoy it. The chill traveled down my throat, leaving behind a pleasant, almost nostalgic taste that reminded me of simpler times.

Just as I was about to leave, the door chimed again. My heart did a little flip as I saw Keaton step in. His piercing blue eyes scanned the room until they landed on me. A smirk curled his lips.

"Starting without me, babes?" he asked, his voice carrying that mix of arrogance and charm I remembered from the locker room.

I couldn't help but roll my eyes at the termbabes. He made his way over to my table with an air of casual confidence that seemed to command the space around him.

"I hope you weren't leaving," he said, pulling out a chair and sitting down without waiting for an invitation. "Not when the party's just begun."

I took another sip of my lemonade, buying myself a moment to collect my thoughts. The way he effortlessly took control of the situation both intrigued and annoyed me.

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