Settling Down

Chapter Eight 

Phina’s POV

Settling Down In My Space

The walk to the accommodation wing was supposed to be quiet.

At least, that was what I had hoped for when Leander stepped out of the porter’s office and motioned for me to follow him.

Unfortunately, the man seemed physically incapable of leaving me alone with my thoughts.

Or perhaps he simply enjoyed irritating me.

Either way, I was beginning to regret every decision that had brought me to Veyra University.

The scholarship. The contract. The principal with his cryptic statements about wolves. The porter who spoke about clans and keys as though I had somehow missed an entire civilization while growing up.

And now, Leander.

The school’s “top boy” with the attitude of a king and the communication skills of a brick wall.

I adjusted the strap of my bag and hurried to catch up with him.

"You didn't have to do that."

He didn't look at me. "Do what?"

"Pay for my accommodation."

"You're welcome."

I stopped walking.

He took another two steps before noticing. When he turned, his expression suggested that my sudden inability to move was a personal inconvenience.

"That wasn't a thank-you."

"Then you should have said what you meant."

"I meant you didn't have to do it."

"And I heard you the first time."

"Then why did you do it?"

He looked at me for a moment, his blue eyes moving over my face as though he was searching for something I had misplaced.

"My photographer cannot be seen coming out from potholes."

I blinked.

Then I laughed.

Not because he was funny. He wasn't.

I laughed because I couldn't believe those words had actually come out of his mouth.

"Your photographer?"

"That's what the contract says, isn't it?"

"Your contract says I have to help improve your reputation. It doesn't say you own me."

His jaw tightened.

"I never said I owned you."

"You don't have to say it when you keep acting like you do."

He stared at me.

I stared back.

For a moment, neither of us moved. The corridor stretched behind him, lined with tall windows that let the pale morning light spill over the stone floor. Students passed at the far end, their conversations rising and falling around us.

Leander looked entirely unbothered by the world.

I hated him a little for that.

"Are you finished?" he asked.

"Not even close."

"Wonderful."

He turned and continued walking.

I hurried after him, refusing to let him have the last word.

"People live there, you know."

He didn't slow down. "Where?"

"The place you called a pothole."

"That wasn't a place. It was a suggestion from the porter."

"A suggestion you rejected like she was asking me to sleep in the gutter."

"Because I have standards."

"So do the people living there."

"People that I have no business with."

I stared at the back of his head.

Was this man serious?

"You're unbelievable."

"I've been told."

"By people who apparently have no business with you?"

He glanced over his shoulder. "You're catching on."

I made a sound of pure disbelief.

"I don't understand how anyone tolerates you."

"They don't have to. They just have to listen."

"That explains so much about your personality."

"And what does my personality explain about yours?"

"That I should have stayed home."

For the first time since we left the office, his expression changed.

It wasn't much. Just a brief pause in his stride, a subtle tightening around his eyes.

Then it was gone.

"You're free to leave."

I hated how quickly he said it.

I hated even more that the words stung.

"Right. Of course. Because leaving is so easy when your mother is working double shifts, your bills are multiplying, and the university has apparently decided to purchase your future before you've even seen the fine print."

His gaze sharpened.

I immediately regretted saying so much.

Not because he deserved to know my problems, but because I had spent years learning how to keep them to myself. I didn't need to start spilling my life story to a man who thought accommodation was a privilege he could use to remind me of my place.

He studied me for a moment.

Then he started walking again.

"Keep up, bumblebee."

I clenched my teeth.

"I have a name."

"I know."

"Then use it."

"No."

I could have thrown my bag at him.

Honestly, I considered it.

Instead, I followed him down another corridor, past a staircase with carved wooden railings and a series of portraits depicting people who looked as though they had never smiled in their entire lives.

Veyra seemed determined to make even its walls intimidating.

Everywhere I looked, there was evidence of money, history, and power. The polished floors. The elaborate chandeliers. The heavy doors bearing symbols I didn't recognize.

And the students.

They moved through the university with the confidence of people who had never wondered whether they could afford their next meal.

I wondered what it felt like to live like that.

To walk into a building without calculating what it cost to maintain it. To receive something without immediately wondering what it would demand in return.

The thought made me look down at the contract tucked beneath my arm.

Leander had paid for my room.

That didn't mean the room was free.

Nothing about Veyra felt free.

"How much?" I asked.

He didn't turn. "How much what?"

"The accommodation."

"Don't worry about it."

"That wasn't my question."

"And I chose not to answer it."

I quickened my pace until I was walking beside him.

"I'm going to pay you back."

"No, you're not."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me."

I stopped again.

He stopped too, looking increasingly convinced that escorting me anywhere was a mistake.

"Listen, Leander—"

"Captain."

"What?"

"The moment we come in contact with people, it's Captain."

I stared at him.

"Are you genuinely correcting me right now?"

"Yes."

"You know what? Fine. Captain Leander, I will pay you back."

His mouth twitched.

It was the closest thing to a smile I had seen on him, and somehow that irritated me more than his usual scowl.

"Good luck with that."