Page 28 of Her Devil

“Oh, can I get a Caramel Latte Macchiato, please?”

“Anything to eat?” I ask, gesturing to the rows of fresh cakes and desserts. “Or there’s sandwiches and stuff if you want something else?”

“I’m good, but thank you.”

“I’ll bring those over for you,” the barista says as I flash my card.

Ivy picks a table, carefully putting her phone in her coat pocket before placing it over the back of the chair, shaking off the frigid drizzle that’s done its best to soak us between the car and here.

“So, psychology is an interesting choice,” I start, attempting to break the ice.

“Not when you want to be a psychologist,” she replies with a small shrug of her shoulders.

“Hence the sociology with Jacob.” I nod, the barista banging the coffee in the background. “And what is it you were in before our class?”

“Advanced Biology.”

“Wow. Quite a mix. Makes sense though, considering the psychology stuff.”

“I would have just done psychology and advanced bio if it was up to me, but my father insisted I needed to do something with broader applications.”

“You’re close then, huh?” I ask, the stab of pain in my chest unusual.

My relationship with my father was… complicated.

He loved us, of course he did. And he was around, some of the time. At least when he was around, he was present, unlike my mother. No, you could sit with Francesca Barrett and be one hundred per cent sure her mind was anywhere but in that room. But my father, when he was there, he was really there, you know?

“We used to be,” she dodges. “Anyway, let’s not talk about that. You need to tell me more about this Devil's Prep thing. The info Stephanie had was minimal, and Leo was tight-lipped about it last night.”

“The Devils of Pendleton Prep? I’m surprised Leo didn’t tell you everything you wanted to know and more,” I grumble.

“Nope. But I’m hoping you will.”

Her expectation is unfounded and I have no idea what I’m supposed to tell her.

“I’m not sure I have much more information about it than you do at this point.” I scoff out a laugh. “They have a lot of history here, or so I’m told, a reputation to uphold.” The drinks arrive and she wraps her hands around the mug, her attention rapt as she leans over the table.

“Go on…”

“They go on to do amazing things,” I hedge. “They have big money and big lives, power beyond your wildest dreams.”

The interest tumbles out of her like a balloon that’s been popped, her face dropping, the sparkle that was there just seconds ago draining out of her, much like the interest in the conversation. “The reputation I’ve heard about isn’t the same… they sound like dicks.”

“I could take offence to that, if I knew anything about it,” I comment.

She narrows her eyes at me, waiting patiently to see if I’ll give her anything else.

And I could… I guess.

Yes, darling, The Sect. A group of men that do the kind of things that delicate eyes like yours should never have to see. They’re politicians, heads of huge corporations, and more, if the faces I recognised the other night are anything to go by.

These are not men to cross, and not ones to gossip about either.

“I hear they’re not the only ones with a reputation though. The Angels of Pendleton Prep are as notorious as the Devils. They’re the hottest, smartest, and most attractive in just about every way.” I attempt a lighter tone, something to break the irritated edge from the look she’s giving me. It doesn’t work.

“Well, I’m not here for that.” She crosses her arms over her chest in defiance, jutting her chin out.

“No?” I smile, desperately trying to ease us back into the banter we had just moments ago. Where the easy conversation flowed effortlessly.

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