Page 35 of Make Me Lie (Rich Demons of Darkwood 1)

I continued this pep talk all the way to the large stone steps that led to the administration building. I took a deep breath, wishing I’d been able to grab some coffee before coming here, but I hadn't wanted to risk being seen and questioned by one of the guys. I could stop after this by that coffee shop I'd seen two blocks off of campus the other day. It would be my reward.

With that bright thought, I opened one of the huge double doors that led into the building, the cool air caressing my skin as I walked into the entryway. It was completely empty except for an enormous desk where a very tired, very perturbed looking woman sat. We were the only two people in the room. I guess at least I beat the line.

I walked toward the desk, my shoes clicking across the ornate tile, echoing around the room. I stood there awkwardly once I got there, waiting for her to look up at me. After a minute passed and she hadn't even acknowledged my presence, I cleared my throat, wondering if there was a little bell somewhere I was supposed to ring.

The woman sighed and finally looked up at me from her seat, like I was the biggest inconvenience she'd ever experienced. I tapped my fingers against my thigh, reminding myself that I needed to be polite even with all the attitude she was throwing me.

"Do you have an appointment?" she barked.

"I sent an email last night. But it's an emergency. I need to see Dean Worthington."

She let out another long sigh and shook her head. "The Dean only sees people by appointment. Get an appointment andthencome see us." She looked down at her desk, typing away at her computer and going back to pretending that I didn't exist.

I put my hands on her desk and leaned forward, determination surging through me. "I don't think you heard me correctly. This is an emergency. I'll wait here all day if I have to in order to get even five minutes of the Dean's time. Surely he has at least a minute to spare."

I hated begging. Hated it more than almost anything, actually. I had The Demon to thank for that, as he’d made me beg more times than I could count. But I’d do it if that's what it took to get that meeting, and to get that new room assignment.

"No, I don't think you heard me. The Dean only sees people with appointments, and you aren't on the list," she snapped as she held up a paper filled with a long list of names.

I gritted my teeth. "How would you know if I was on that list or not? You haven’t even asked for my name."

"You think I don't know that you’re The Demon's daughter? I can’t believe you would have the nerve to step on this campus with all the pain you’ve caused the world. You should be locked up right along with your father!"

And there it was. I knew it was too much to hope for, that who I was hadn’t spread to everyone. Obviously, the whole administration knew who I was now too. I didn't bother trying to correct her, or tell her that I didn't have anything to do with my father's sins, because that would've been a lie. All of my previous determination rushed out of me, and my shoulders dropped. Maybe there was a bridge I could live under for the rest of the semester, because I was pretty sure that no matter how many emails I sent, I wasn't going to make it on that list.

Just then, the telephone on her desk rang. She stared at it unhappily before finally answering it.

"Yes, Dean Worthington?" she asked in a light, breathy voice that was a far cry from the snide rude tone she'd been giving me. "Oh. I see. My apologies, sir. I'll send her right in."

She hung up the phone and pursed her lips before looking back at me. "Apparently, you’re a lucky girl. The Dean will see you now." She gestured to the door that sat behind her and then looked back at her computer, stabbing at her keyboard like it had personally offended her.

I frowned, wondering how the Dean even knew I was here. Maybe there were cameras in here, or maybe our voices had carried into his office. It was weird, but I wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

"Thanks,” I told her insincerely as I began to walk towards the doors.

"You should leave if you know what's good for you," she hissed at my back. But I just ignored her as I finally got to the doors and prepared myself to face the Dean. I knocked twice on the heavy wood, and a loud voice quickly yelled out for me to come in.

I had a whole speech I was prepared to launch into as soon as I saw him, but the words all disappeared as I walked into the room and saw Remington sitting behind an enormous wooden desk, his hands behind his head and his feet sitting on top of the desk on a pile of papers. There was a nervous looking older man sitting in a chair in the corner of the room, his gaze darting between Remington and myself like he was afraid that one of us was going to attack at any minute. I recognized the man from the handbook they’d given everyone at orientation. Dean Worthington looked like he was about to shit himself. There was an obvious twitch right under his eye that was either there from nerves or anger, it was hard to tell.

I felt like I was going to throw up as I surveyed the scene. How had they known I was going to be here? How was he sitting in the Dean’s chair like he owned the place?

“Surprised to see me?” asked Remington with a big grin.

There were two leather bound chairs in front of me, and I gripped the top of one of them, squeezing it so tight I was sure I was going to break it.

“You could say that,” I answered through clenched teeth.

“Imagine my surprise when I saw your email come in last night trying to set up a meeting. You wouldn’t be trying to get a room change now, would you?” His grin widened, and I was tempted to launch myself at him, tear off that smug smile, and light his ass on fire. They were monitoring my emails. Of course they were. Why hadn’t that thought even crossed my mind?

Oh, because it was psychotic. That’s why. I’d obviously underestimated these guys, which I shouldn’t have, especially after last night.

I wouldn’t make that mistake again.

“I’d like to speak with the Dean,” I answered, my nails tearing into the leather as I worked to keep myself in place.

Remington sat back in the chair, his boots crunching the papers underneath him, and I saw the dean flinch out of the corner of my eye. "Go right ahead, the Dean's right there," said Remington mockingly, gesturing to the cowering man to my right.

I shifted uneasily but turned my attention to the dean, even though I knew now that it was futile.

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