LOGIN"Tell me you don’t feel the same way," Xavier murmured, his dark eyes locked on mine. "Tell me you don’t feel your heart racing every time you see me. Tell me you don’t think about me for hours, imagining things… imagining me touching you. Tell me you don’t feel jealous when you see me with another girl who isn’t you." He stepped closer, his lips curling into that infuriating smirk. "Tell me, Princess," he whispered. My throat went dry. My words stuttered. "I… I don’t feel anything for you," I barely managed. "You're such a terrible liar," he said, his grin darkening. ••• Everything changed the night my father died. Six months later, my mother’s whirlwind engagement brought me here — to his mansion, to his world, to him. Xavier Knight: arrogant, reckless and rebellious. The one person I shouldn’t want. The one person I can’t stop noticing. He’s not supposed to be mine. I’m not supposed to want him. And yet… every glance, every word, every heartbeat pulls me closer to danger.
View MoreThe silence that followed the party was heavier than the music had ever been.I woke up to a house that felt like it was nursing a collective migraine. The morning sun was relentless, cutting through the gaps in my curtains and mocking the absolute disaster I knew was waiting for me outside my bedroom door.My head throbbed, but it wasn't from alcohol this time—it was the memory of his Wing. The memory of the way Xavier had looked at me, trapped between his arms and the matte black wall, his breath ghosting over my lips until I thought I might actually catch fire.I forced myself out of bed, pulling on a pair of oversized sweatpants to go with my wrinkled t-shirt. I needed water. I needed to know if last night was a fever dream or a funeral for whatever "peace" we had left.The grand staircase was a graveyard of red plastic cups, discarded high heels, and a smell that was a sickening cocktail of stale beer and expensive cologne. It was as if a hurricane of privilege had ripped thro
I felt paralyzed, my eyes darting from the hard, wet lines of his chest back to the silver-framed photo I had almost touched. I was a trespasser in his most private sanctuary, and the look in his eyes told me he knew exactly how much of his soul I’d just tried to peek at.Xavier didn’t move, but the temperature in the room seemed to drop. He didn't cover himself; he didn't even seem to care that he was standing there in nothing but black boxers while I stood trembling in a thin t-shirt that felt like it was made of glass."I said... I got lost," I repeated, my voice cracking under the weight of his stare."You're a liar, Summer," he rasped, his voice low and dangerous. He took a single step forward, the light from the hallway catching the damp curve of his shoulder. "You didn't get lost. You were hunting. Looking for a weakness? Looking for something to tell your mother so she can tighten her grip on my father's throat?""No! I just... I saw the door open and—""Get out." He simp
By noon, the hangover had transitioned into a hollow, gnawing hunger. I padded into the kitchen, my bare feet silent on the cold marble. I hadn't bothered with a real outfit—I just threw on an oversized vintage t-shirt that swallowed my frame, reaching just past my mid-thigh. I hadn't even put on a bra, the soft cotton brushed against my skin, and the chill of the industrial-sized kitchen made my nipples peak prominently against the thin fabric.I just wanted coffee and toast. Something simple. Something that didn't require a chef.I managed to get the toaster going, the smell of browning bread finally making me feel human again. But the artisanal coffee beans were tucked away on the highest shelf of a sleek, white-lacquered cupboard."Who even designs these things? Giants?" I muttered, dragging a heavy wooden stool toward the counter.It wasn't enough. I stood on my tiptoes, my fingers straining toward the silver canister. I reached higher, my back arching as I stretched every i
The steaming hot shower did little to wash away the pounding in my head, but it managed to scrub the scent of the frat house off my skin. I dressed in a simple oversized sweater and leggings—something comfortable enough to hide the fact that I felt like I was vibrating out of my own skin.I descended the grand staircase with cautious steps, my hand gripping the mahogany railing. As I reached the bottom, the clink of silver against china led me toward the dining room. The morning sun streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, making everything look too bright, too clean, and far too perfect. My mother and William were already seated at the head of the massive table, a spread of fruit, pastries, and coffee laid out between them. Xavier was nowhere to be seen. "Summer! Good morning, darling," my mother chirped, her face glowing with a level of happiness that felt almost offensive. "You’re just in time. Come, sit. "William offered a polite nod, his eyes kind behind his glasse
The bass was a physical force, vibrating through the soles of my sneakers and rattling my ribcage before I even crossed the threshold. It was 7:00 PM and the Sigma Chi house was glowing like a neon-lit monster in the middle of the dark street.I stood on the sidewalk, my fingers twisting the hem of
The weekend had been a haunting exercise in avoidance. I had moved around the Knight mansion like a ghost, slipping into the kitchen for coffee only when I was sure the hallways were clear. Xavier had vanished—no smoke trails, no heavy boots, no dark stares. It was as if the house itself was holdin
The door to my "suite" clicked shut, muffling the sounds of my mother’s frantic apologies to William downstairs.I leaned my back against the heavy oak wood and let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. My heart was still hammering against my ribs, a frantic rhythm that had nothing to do with
The cardboard boxes stacked in the corner of my room felt like coffins. Each one held a piece of the life I wasn’t ready to bury.I shoved a stack of folded sweaters into a suitcase, my movements jagged and numb. It had been exactly one hundred and eighty-four days since my father’s funeral. Six m
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