Saint

“Dad, give me a minute,” Saint snaps.

Mr. Angelle doesn’t appear to like Saint’s short tone. He prowls toward us, his expression growing darker with every step he takes. “Who is this?” he demands. “Another conquest, perhaps?”

“Dad!”

My eyes bounce between Saint and his dad, and I don’t know what I should say, if anything. I’m offended by Mr. Angelle’s assumptions, but I’m 99.9 percent certain I’d only make this tense situation worse if I said anything.

Saint moves slightly so that he blocks me from his father’s view.

“She’s not a fucking conquest. She’s nothing. Nobody. Not worth your time.”

“Oh, is that so?” Mr. Angelle moves closer, grabs his son’s shoulder, and pushes him to the side. He studies me intently, his expression curious at first, but then changing into something disturbing.

Something that makes my skin crawl.

“She doesn’t look like nobody to me.” Mr. Angelle glances toward Saint, who’s fuming next to us, his rage wafting off him like poisonous fumes. “Miss? What is your name please?”

“Mallory, Mr. Angelle. Mallory Elli—”

“Her name doesn’t matter,” Saint hisses. “She’s just some girl I hooked up with once who’s gotten clingy.”

Not only is that embarrassing to hear aloud, it stings that he’s so nonchalant about it.

Mr. Angelle cocks a thick, dark brow. “Indeed? You seem to be rather eager to hide her from me. I apologize for my son’s rudeness, Mallory. He often doesn’t think before he speaks.”

I nod, dumbfounded. “It’s fine. I’m used to it.”

Saint shoots me a vicious look, and his eyes tell me to keep my mouth shut.

“I don’t believe I recognize you from my son’s class. Are you new to Angelview this year?” Mr. Angelle has turned his entire focus onto me, ignoring his son completely.

Saint’s gaze bores into me, but I get the sense that he’s no longer the alpha here.

“Yes, sir. I just started this semester.”

“And your family? Do I know your parents?”

My heart thumps hard in my chest and I pluck at the skirt of my dress in agitation. I need to be careful here. I can’t let anything slip. Can’t give anything away.

“I-I doubt it, sir,” I stammer. “My foster mom is an ER nurse in Georgia.”

Mr. Angelle stares at me in silence for several moments.

“I suppose you’re a scholarship student, aren’t you Mallory?”

The way he’s speaking makes it seem like he’s repulsed by that fact.

Gulping, I nod. “Yes, sir, I am.”

“Ah.” His expression cools. “I have always found the Academy’s charity rather … generous.”

It doesn’t sound like he thinks that’s a good thing.

“Well, I’m grateful for the opportunity to be here, however it came about.”

“Hmmm, I’m sure you are very proud of whatever brought you … here.” He directs his icy stare at his son when he says that last word, and it becomes clear to me that Saint doesn’t share just his good looks with his father. They share the same, shitty, entitled personality as well. I’m ready to get out of this situation and put as much distance between myself and the whole Angelle family.

Plastering on a smile so sweet, I hope it gives them both cavities, I grind out, “I really should be getting back to the picnic. My foster mom is waiting for me.”

Mr. Angelle returns my smile, and his is dripping with disdain. “A pleasure to meet you, Mallory. I hope we see each other again soon.”

“Yeah, me too,” I lie through my teeth. Then, turning to Saint, I give him a curt nod. “See you.”

His nostrils flare, but he doesn’t respond. He just glowers at me as I push past him to hurry from the dining hall and away from his toxic presence.

That night, I lay in bed, flipping through the pictures I took on my phone of the day. Carley’s already on her way back to Georgia, and I miss her so much, my heart aches. We spent the rest of the day with Loni and Mr. James, and it became more and more obvious that he and Carley were into each other. I wonder if he’ll call her, or if they’ll try to see each other again?

I hope so. She seemed to really like him.

Sighing, I let my phone drop to the bed and stare up at the ceiling. In the quiet, away from Carley and my friends, my mind can’t help but wander back to that strange encounter with Saint and his father. Mr. Angelle was an even bigger asshole than his son, but there was something about him that makes me uneasy, even now. Something dangerous. The way he was looking at me—as if he were dissecting me bit by bit—still makes me shudder, even though hours have passed.

I almost feel sorry for Saint. Of course, he grew up to be a pompous shithead. The asshole apple doesn’t fall far from the asshole tree.

Forcing the events of the day from my brain, I sit up and reach for the book resting on my nightstand, thinking I’ll read a little before I go to sleep. Before my fingers even brush the cover, though, there’s a heavy knock on my door.

I go completely still with surprise. It’s nearly midnight. Who could be bothering me this late at night?

A second knock sounds, more insistent than the first. Grumbling under my breath, I slide out of bed and pad my way to the door. Twisting the knob, I yank it open, readying to chew out whoever is on the other side, but my words die on my tongue as shock pulses through me.

Saint is standing at my threshold, staring down at me.

“What are you doing here, Saint?”

He points a finger at me and staggers toward me a couple steps. “I came to ask you something.”

His words are slurred and his breath smells like whiskey, even though he’s tried to mask it with his usual ci

“It’s late and you’re wrecked. Go to your own room and go to bed.” I move to shut my door in his face, but he shoves his hand against it to keep it open.

“No.” He shakes his head. “I’m not going anywhere until I fucking ask you my question.”

I purse my lips, a

“Fine,” I sigh, reaching out to grab his arm. “But come inside before you wake up the whole floor.”

“Fuck your floor,” he snaps.

“Just shut up and come in,” I snap right back, yanking him into my room. He stumbles slightly but catches himself before he falls.

Standing up straight, he gazes around, taking in my personal space.

“Fuck, I forgot how shitty Teague Hall really is.”

My hands clench at my sides. Entitled, spoiled, ungrateful prick…

He slowly turns to face me. His expression is intent, his blue eyes darkened by alcohol and something else I can’t quite put my finger on. “Will you please leave?”

I blink at him, certain I’ve misheard. Did he just say please?

“This is my room, Saint, I—”

“No, idiot. Not this room. This school.”

Oh. I suppose that should’ve been obvious.

“I’ve told you before, I’m not going anywhere.” I fold my arms over my chest and boldly meet his gaze.

He stalks toward me. “Mallory … please. I’m asking you nicely.”

“And I’m telling you no nicely,” I say in the fakest, sweetest voice I’ve ever heard. “I don’t care if you slap a please before the order. I’m not leaving Angelview, end of story.”

He stares down at me for several moments, eyes gleaming with frustration, then his eyelids shut, and he releases a heavy sigh.