Chapter 27 The Fortuna Nike
Amber wasn’t a fucking option.
Marriage in the Society was basically until death. His own mother had dodged that bullet because his father was already married to Heather when he’d decided to fuck off and fuck someone else. The world thought Heather was his mother, but everyone in the Society who knew them knew Dorian was a bastard, but they couldn’t say a damn thing since Heather had managed to give the Knoxes a son, and Vincent’s father hadn’t given a damn where the next male heir came from so long as he came.
Dorian used condoms religiously and only used his own condoms to avoid baby traps and accidents. The thought of marrying a younger version of Heather with darker features made his skin crawl. He’d die of boredom. The resentment would make him terrible. More terrible than his usual baseline.
He would fuck anyone and everyone else out of pure spite if he were forced to marry her.
He’d never planned to get married, but since the Society clearly had plans otherwise, he needed plans of his own.
Lydia’s dark eyes flashed through his mind; the malice now seemed more like disdain. His blood ran hot. The straightness of her posture, the firmness of her voice… Fuck. There was that dangerous need to chase, again.
It got his blood pumping, and his mind racing.
That little idea that had only been a spark was starting to catch.
He shook his head, scrubbed a hand over his face, and hoped Amber had a whirlwind romance, grew a spine, and stayed overseas.
Lydia held the close button just as Ken’s face appeared between the open doors. She melted back against the back of the elevator. When it opened on the second floor, she got out and headed to the stairwell closest to the main road, farthest from the one he would have taken to chase her.
No way in hell was she letting Ken ruin her mood.
The fact that he had called her three times and texted her seven times in the past hour told her she had made the right choice in ignoring him. She hurried back to the apartment, skipped the shower, and changed into her black uniform pants, a simple, light blue blouse, and tennis shoes before heading back to the Clubhouse. Since the Luncheon was still going on, there was a chance she’d run into him, but when she got up to the administrative offices on the third floor without even a hint of his presence, she figured she was safe.
The woman manning the desk was different from the one who had been there earlier. She checked in, and a few minutes later, an advisor from the Financial Aid office came out. The tense, too pleasant set of her smile set Lydia on edge. It didn’t reach her eyes. Her grandpa would say it was a lying smile.
“Ms. Becker,” Lydia greeted. “Nice to see you here… Odd, to see you here.”
She smiled. “Well, the office is certainly nicer here. Please come with me. Your emails about your mentor have been forwarded to me. I’ll be your point of contact to get things settled.”
Her stomach churned. Alarms went off in the back of her mind. She thought of the director and how easy it had all seemed. Was this when the other shoe dropped? Probably, but she couldn’t imagine how.
Why would an Aegis financial advisor have an office at the Clubhouse? Aegis and the Resort and Clubhouse were affiliated, yes, but not in a way that this would make sense.
She walked into an office that was a more lavish replica of the financial aid offices, except this one had actual decorations. Ms. Becker closed the door behind her, and the subtle noise from the corridor died. The silence loomed over her head. Her gaze wandered, then followed Ms. Becker to the other side of the desk.
“You’ve been selected for a rather… unique opportunity, but it comes with a price.” She sat back, folding her hands together. The nice facade turned cold and haughty. A sinister, malicious, sadistic glint, like the flash of a knife in the darkness, cut through her eyes.
Lydia’s whole body tensed, and as much as her instincts told her to run, she couldn’t move.
“It would be in your best interest to decide to pay it.”
“I think I’ll decide what’s in my best interest.” Lydia narrowed her eyes. “Something tells me this opportunity would cost too much.”
She laughed, humorless and biting. “Women have paid much more for much less.”
She tapped a few keys on her laptop, and a projection started on the wall to Lydia’s left.
Quillan’s mug shot stared back at her. He was several years younger in the photo, and though he had a straight face, there was so much fear in his eyes. The sight of it gutted and alarmed her. She was going to be sick and faint. Her heart pounded in her chest, and she jerked her head back to meet her gaze.
“Have a seat, Ms. Zembayashi.”
Lydia flinched at the name, but she drifted forward and sat, clenching the armrests. Becker tapped again, and her mom and grandpa appeared.
“You’ve been very busy these past few years, fighting the court system, the Tolberts, and poverty… Your mother’s put in more hours than any nursing aid, on top of studying for licensure. That second mortgage on your grandfather’s shack is current, but it’s not going to be in a few more months when she loses her job.”
Shack? What the fuck? Her grandpa’s house was not a shack.
“What?”
“And I don’t think you’ll be able to pay their living expenses, your own, and for that pointless appeal.”
She set her jaw and glared at the woman. “Why are you threatening me?”
“I’m telling you what’s at risk. You’re talented, and maybe a bit smart, but you’re not smart enough to realize that no matter how many appeals you file, no matter how much money you scrape together, it won’t ever be enough to go against the Tolberts. And if your brother rotting away like a criminal wasn’t enough, and your family falling into poverty, there’s your own future to consider.”
The image changed again to show the estimated cost of attendance for the rest of her BA-MFA program.
“I don’t think you’ll be able to scrape that together, no matter how many times you scrub Mr. Knox’s toilets, do you?”
Her eyes burned. Shame and fury twisted in her gut.
“Your expression says I have your attention. Good. I’m not a financial aid officer; I’m an administrator for the Fortuna Nike. My employers have selected you as a worthwhile candidate. You’ll be given to a member or an initiate. It hasn’t been decided yet.”
Given.
“Why?” Lydia asked.
Her eyes cut to her. “It doesn’t matter why.”
“I say it does.”
“Your opinion is irrelevant.” She pressed on. “You should get used to that.”
“And if I don’t?”
She laughed, low and mocking.
“You’ll get used to it because you have no choice.”