The Third Floor Suite was less a living space and more a state-of-the-art fortress. It spanned the entire floor, a stunning, minimalist domain of dark wood, slate, and panoramic windows that offered a dizzying view of the Academy grounds. The air, though cleaner than Adrian's lounge, was still dominated by the overpowering scent of cedarwood and iron—his presence was in every molecule.
Lila's (or rather, the original Lila's) extravagant belongings had already been moved into the second-largest bedroom, a room she found herself occupying with a sense of dizzying dread. She changed quickly into a simple, thick velvet robe—the least revealing item she could find—and stared at her reflection. She still looked like the stunningly beautiful villainess, but her eyes held a hunted look that was entirely Ava's.
A polite but firm knock announced that dinner was ready. She walked into the vast, open-plan dining area to find Adrian Wolfhart already seated at one end of an absurdly long, polished mahogany table. He wasn't in his uniform; he was dressed in tailored black trousers and a charcoal silk shirt, looking less like a student and more like a CEO of a hostile corporate takeover.
The table was set impeccably for two, with silver, crystal, and a complex array of utensils. The aroma of perfectly cooked meat—not just food, but expensive, exotic game—filled the air.
"Welcome, Assistant," Adrian said, indicating the seat directly opposite him, which felt like sitting across a wide, icy moat. "Sit. We have much to discuss."
Lila sat stiffly, pulling her velvet robe tighter despite the warmth of the room. The food was brought in by a silent Beta server: a stunning plate of roasted pheasant, asparagus, and an elaborate, glistening sauce.
"I trust the Suite is satisfactory," Adrian continued, effortlessly carving a piece of meat. "I prefer efficiency. Your proximity saves us both time."
"My proximity serves you," Lila corrected automatically, unable to stop the sharp, clumsy defiance. "I fail to see how sleeping on the same floor as my captor is beneficial to my studies."
Adrian paused, lifting a piece of pheasant to his lips. He chewed slowly, his silver eyes fixed on hers, allowing the silence to stretch into a suffocating threat.
"The benefit, Lila, is twofold," he finally replied. "First, I am studying your heightened Omega sensitivity. Secondly," he leaned forward slightly, "you will find that being associated with me, while terrifying, offers a degree of protection that your father's wealth cannot buy. I suggest you enjoy the benefits of your gilded cage."
"Protection from what?" she challenged. "From my own schedule?"
"From everyone," Adrian corrected smoothly. "Your former social rivals, your pack's enemies, and most importantly, from the petty political squabbles of the Academy's middle-rank Alphas. They will see you as mine. And few dare to touch what belongs to the True Blood."
Lila gripped her napkin. Mine. The word sounded possessive and terrifying.
"I belong to myself, Alpha," she hissed, picking up her fork and trying to appear bored by the exchange.
"A technicality," Adrian dismissed, taking a sip of wine. "Now, eat. You are too thin. The scent of fear is better on a well-fed Omega." Adrian said looking at her from top to bottom.
His casual cruelty, masked by that unsettling flirtatious air, hit her hard. Lila stabbed a piece of asparagus, determined not to let him see her fear—or her hunger.
Suddenly, a knock echoed at the door—not the polite tap of a servant, but a sharp, urgent demand.
Adrian's silver eyes flashed, the playful amusement vanishing entirely, replaced by cold fury. "Didn't I make it clear that I am not to be disturbed?"
The door, however, hissed open, and a figure strode in: Marcus. The aggressive Alpha from the lecture hall—the one who ran the gambling ring. He was not alone; a tense, wiry Beta stood behind him.
Marcus stopped short, his eyes widening slightly at the sight of the True Blood Alpha having dinner, then narrowing as he saw Lila Blackwood seated opposite him, looking pale and furious.
"Wolfhart," Marcus said, recovering quickly, though his respect was tinged with resentment. "I apologize for the intrusion. I had an urgent matter to discuss regarding the upcoming Purity Trials funding." He paused, his gaze sweeping over the intimate dinner setup. "I didn't realize you were entertaining."
Adrian didn't move. He simply stared at Marcus, his power radiating across the room like palpable heat.
"You are disrupting my dinner," Adrian said, his voice dangerously low. "Leave. Now."
Marcus swallowed, but his need to challenge Lila's status outweighed his fear. "With all due respect, Alpha, I simply wanted to confirm that Blackwood is still eligible for the Trials. She is an Omega, and given the rumors of her father's recent—"
"Lila Blackwood is my Personal Assistant," Adrian cut him off, his voice suddenly rising to a commanding roar that bordered on the full Alpha Voice. "She is under my direct protection and command. Her eligibility is non-negotiable. Furthermore," he looked Marcus up and down with icy contempt. "You have five seconds to remove yourself from my floor before I ensure you will not need funding for any Trial this year. Understood?"
Marcus, defeated by the sheer, crushing power of the True Blood, backed away, his face pale with humiliation and rage. "Understood, Alpha. My apologies." He spun and retreated, slamming the door shut.
Lila watched the entire exchange, her fork halfway to her mouth. Adrian hadn't defended her; he had claimed her. He had used her as a shield to demonstrate his own dominance.
Adrian turned back to her, picking up his napkin. The fury was gone, replaced by that terrifying, playful smirk.
"See, Assistant?" he said, gesturing toward her plate. "Protection. Now, eat your pheasant. I require you to be strong enough to withstand my scrutiny."
Lila, knowing she had just been claimed and simultaneously saved from Marcus's immediate hostility, finally picked up her fork. She had to use this confinement to her advantage. She needed information, and the only person she could trust was her unwitting ally, Elara Hawthorne.
After dinner, Adrian spent the next hour working on a scroll, ignoring her, allowing the silence to become another tool of pressure. Lila, feigning interest in an Academy catalogue, wrote a quick, cryptic note on a small, folded piece of Blackwood stationary:
Elara,Need research: Omega sensitivity to True Bloods. Find any text that mentions 'Blue Flash' or 'Foreign Scent.' Deliver to the North Wing Library tomorrow, 10 AM. Urgent.- L
She had to get the message out. Adrian might be watching her every move, but he hadn't yet noticed the terrified Beta who was desperate to prove her loyalty.
When Adrian finally retired to his own separate wing of the Suite, Lila waited another thirty minutes. She crept silently to the door, placing the note into a small, elegant envelope. She couldn't risk leaving the floor herself, but she knew the Beta who guarded the main Alpha entrance changed shifts every four hours.
She tiptoed to her own room, praying she could survive the night in her gilded prison. Survival depended on the quiet competence of a mouse-brown Beta she barely knew, and on the terrifying curiosity of the man who now owned her time, her schedule, and her fear.