Page 65 of Validus Vale Academy 1
If Donovan were here, I know what he’d suggest, so I decide to channel him for the rest of the evening.
When we reach the cafeteria, I tell her to wait at the table while I gather our food, making sure to choose the greasiest, most gut-bomb dishes available. Maybe, just maybe, this will be a way to cut the date short. One can only hope.
Hmmm, extra sour cream? Why not?
I return to the Elite’s table, balancing two trays filled with the kind of terrible shit that I’d never normally touch with a ten-foot pole.
“Bon appétit,” I say, giving her my most winning fake smile.
Jordan’s face, which doesn’t move easily due to copious amounts of youthbloom injections, twitches with annoyance. I pretend not to see and snatch up a chili dog. Disgusting but worth it for my own entertainment. “It’s so sexy when girls don’t pick at their food,” I tell her, actually quite truthfully.
"I’ve never had a problem keeping my figure," she replies, her voice sounding a little strained. I smirk as she picks up a fork and valiantly takes a bite of the truffle-oil mac and cheese. “Hmm, delicious,” she purrs, her expression unchanging.
Once again, I put that down to the Youthbloom, rather than the actual enjoyment of the food.
“You’vegottatry this dog,” I tell her, hovering the sloppy mess in front of her mouth. “Open up.”
I have to give her ten out of ten for effort. For the next fifteen minutes, she endures everything I force her to sample. It’s interesting to realize the lengths she’ll go to in the pursuit of her goal.
I need to remember that.
“I heard you were a hero yesterday,” she murmurs, daintily dabbing at a speck of grease on her chin. "Talk of the school, you pulling that dud out of the water. Good for you." The way she says it makes her feelings clear. She would have let Theodora drown. "What the fuck is she doing here anyway?” she asks. “Have you started talking to Donovan and Wesley again? I guess they must have dumped her scrawny ass."
Keeping a bland smile plastered on my face, I continue to play it cool. "They know where I am if they want to apologize."
Jordan nods her approval. "Absolutely. They owe you an apology for their disloyalty,andthey need to be fumigated. I can’t imagine the diseases they’ve picked up from that piece of trash." She lets out a giggle that grates on my nerves. I’ve beenmanaging this whole charade pretty well so far, but suddenly, all the amusement drains away.
I pull a flask from my pocket. I came prepared, knowing that something to numb the pain might be necessary. Jordan giggles, tossing her Barbie-hair over one bare shoulder, then leans forward and grabs the booze from me.
Her touch makes my skin crawl.
Holding the flask, the giggling act drops like a discarded mask. “We should make a toast," she says, her voice suddenly hard. "To joining our families. I’ll be Jordan Drakeward Singleton-Smith; think of the beautiful babies."
I shudder at the thought as she tips most of the contents between her glossy lips, then hands the flask back to me. "Drink up, Cosmo darling," she purrs. "Daddy wants us to announce our engagement at Christmas. So romantic—a diamond surrounded by rubies would be festive and appropriate for my ring."
I stare at the woman across from me. Make vows to Jordan Singleton-Smith? Stand at an altar and be magically bonded? Fuck no.
But my father doesn’t take no for an answer. Not only has he bound me, but over the last few years, he’s pulled the strings even tighter. I might decide that this shell of a life isn’t worth living, but there’s no exit I can take. Aurora’s well-being is wholly tied to my bending the knee.
Gods, he’d better keep his promise and leave my little sister alone. I think of her being bound and at the mercy of some Elite prick. Fuck. No. Never going to happen. For the merest second, a flicker of guilt makes itself known at the back of my consciousness. I’m the Elite prick doing that to Wilson.
It’s the dud’s own fault. Aurora’s only sin is being born into the Drakeward family. I finish off the flask and give Jordan a blank smile. "Rubies and diamonds. Duly noted."
Ten weeks. I have ten weeks to get myself out of this mess.
"Desserts," I announce, pushing back my chair.
“Oh, none for me,” Jordan says quickly, her face turning pale, and a bead of sweat gathers on her upper lip.
"I insist. I'll bring you my favorite." I turn my back, a shudder running down my spine, and march over to the food stations once again.
"Here," I say, slamming the dessert down in front of her. She lets out a small groan, not of delight. I’ve just delivered a towering, oozing pile of chocolate eclairs; the choux pastry glistening with butter, and heaps of creamy goo congealed in their centers. Jordan turns a strange shade of green, then pushes her chair back so fast it crashes to the floor.
"I…excuse me." She bolts from the room, and I let out a long, relieved breath. That’s one way to deal with my unwanted fiancée-to-be, but as shrewd as Jordan is, I don’t think that trick will work twice.
Pushing the calorie bombs to one side, I’m sipping an espresso when my text alert sounds. At least it’s not my father’s ringtone.
STRIKER:Found ex-Dean
