Page 15 of Paper Thin Love

Per Titan and Damian’s request, I’m trying to play it safe. I’m exposed in my current state, and now I’m being tossed to the wolves.

I think my dad planned this. He wanted to see if I could survive while injured.Yes, I am a King, but when you’re at the top, you have a never-ending revolving door of enemies lurking. Titan, Damian, and I have been raised to have each other’s backs, but as Dad said, I need to have my own back.

“We have a student here to help orient you, per your father’s request.”

That calls my attention back to whoever this lady is. I narrow my eyes, feeling a surge of suspicion.“Why?” I ask, my voice tinged with caution.

The old lady pauses and looks confused.“Why?”

I grab my crutch and adjust it against the chair I’m sitting in.“Why did my dad want a student to orient me?”

Is it a setup? Surely, Dad doesn’t mean to send me help.

“Oh, well,” she shoves the enormous glasses up the bridge of her nose. A nose that clearly can’t function because her office smells like cheap apple spice air freshener. If Silverstone Preparatory is so posh, then why not spring for a Jo Malone candle?

“He requested them to be your guide. He wanted your schedules to be mirrored so you’d be together,” she replies with admiration.“Isn’t that sweet?”

Sweet? I arch an eyebrow. Ricin can taste sweet, but it will kill you. Kings don’t do sweet; we’re more savory.

Two words she spoke stand out:“Be together.” My pulse quickens as the realization hits me—it’s a setup. I remember his note mentioning I would be responsible for others.

A knock at the door has her jumping up. My brow raises. I didn’t think a lady her age could jump.

“Come in,” she cheerfully shouts, waving as if the newcomer can see through the door. Her eyes light up with excitement as if she’s expecting Santa Claus himself to walk through the door.

I’ve got news for you, lady. All I’m getting is coal.

“Here she is, now,” she says with a smile.

She?

I was expecting a dude that was either going to make my life a living hell or kiss my ass.

Oh, shit! Now, it makes sense. Contrary to what Dad thinks, I figure things out very quickly. I know why Dad requested this specific girl to show me around campus. It’s my arrangement. I always knew my dear old dad would handpick my future. That included my future wife.

Does it matter that I’m not even eighteen? Hell no. By then, people would have already claimed all the good ones.

Fuck you, Dad. Fuck you!

A girl slips inside the office. She’s short, verging on the need to carry a ladder around. If you blinked, you’d miss her presence like dust on the wind, barely scathing your skin. A tight bun, which looks painful, holds her brown hair up.

She must like sadomasochism; no one would twist their hair that tight if they didn’t like pain.

“Hi, Miss Hawthorne,” the girl greets.

Oh, so that’s the old lady’s name.

“Mila, this is Mr. King,” Miss Hawthorne proudly beams.

I don’t bother standing. Mila’s eyes look at my broken leg first. She gulps, and her wide hazel eyes fill with pity.

Good. Maybe I can use that for my benefit.

“Hi,” Mila mutters.

What did she snort sugar for breakfast? Who has a voice that sweet?

Mom did.

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