The lectures finally end.
The university building exhales with me—noisy, overheated, smelling of paper and other people's ambitions.
I walk down the corridor, deftly weaving between students, and beside me is Giselle Vellard. She chatters nonstop, the way she always does when she's nervous. And she is nervous. I can feel it.
"Victoria. Aren't you scared of this Christian of yours at all?" she asks, leaning closer, as if someone might overhear us. "He looks like… a mobster. Or a mobster's bodyguard. Or a mobster pretending to be a bodyguard."
I smile with just the corner of my mouth.
"No," I answer calmly. "He offered me an internship at Solaris Dominion Group. Four hours a day. Experience. References. Money."
I say it like a spell.
Future. Future. Future.
"Money," Giselle snorts. "Bo-ring. What about parties? Clubs? Spontaneous nights you later remember with the words, 'I really shouldn't have done that'?"
"You have to choose," I shrug. "Either fun, or a life you don't have to be ashamed of."
"You are irrevocably ruining your youth," she declares tragically, placing a hand on my shoulder as if I've already died.
"I'm just investing in it," I reply, picking up my pace.
And at that very moment—
Right on cue.
Finn Monroe and Alex Rivière appear in front of us.
Finn is confident, radiant, expensive. His smile looks like an advertisement for success. Giselle lights up instantly. Not sparks—explodes. She steps forward and practically falls into his arms.
"Well," I think, "there it is. Love. Or a very convincing imitation of it."
Finn hugs her easily, possessively. As if the world has already decided she belongs to him.
Alex…
Alex looks at me.
He steps too close. Too confident. Tries to copy Finn's move—shoulder to shoulder, warm breath, that upward look meant to charm.
I step back.
Just one step.
But it lands louder than a slap.
I see something dim in his eyes. Awkwardness. Hurt. Hope no one asked for.
Sorry, I think, but pity is the worst foundation for intimacy.
And then—
The corridor seems to narrow.
Theo and Sebastian pass by us.
Theo does it on purpose. Shoulder to shoulder. The impact isn't strong—just deliberate.
"Watch it," Finn snaps.
Theo turns sharply.
"Or what?" His voice is low, dangerous. "I break your nose again?"
For a split second, pain flickers across Finn's face—the memory of that boxing match. Then he pulls himself together. Money, status, confidence snap back into place.
"You don't belong here, boy," Finn says coldly. "Giselle is with me. And you… stay in your lane."
I see Theo's jaw tighten. His fists clench. The air between them grows thick, charged.
Not here, I read in his eyes. Not now. But soon.
"This isn't over," he throws out, looking not at Finn…
But at Giselle.
And he walks away.
Sebastian follows him in silence.
"He's dangerous," Giselle almost whispers, pressing closer to Finn.
"Nonsense," Finn replies with lazy confidence. "One call to my father, and that hero will be working at a gas station for the rest of his life."
I watch Giselle lean into him.
Watch Alex walk beside me, lost, not knowing where to put his hands, his gaze, himself.
Not my problem, I think.
I have my own games. And they're far more dangerous.
The corridor fills with noise again.
But the feeling lingers.
This isn't over yet.
**
The sunlight cuts into my eyes like a truth you don't always want to see.
The campus hums with life—students breaking into clusters, laughter, footsteps, the smell of coffee and freedom in the air. I stand on the steps and feel a strange tension along my spine, as if someone is pulling an invisible thread.
A black, completely unremarkable car waits ahead of me.
Too ordinary. Too calm.
The window slides down slowly—and I know immediately who's inside.
Christian.
"I'm going," I throw over my shoulder to Giselle, as if I'm heading to buy a bottle of water and not stepping into a potential trap.
She grabs my elbow, her fingers tightening more than necessary.
"Be careful, Victoria. He…" Her voice drops. "He's not normal."
Alex looks at me like I'm the last train pulling out of the station—and he's already missed it. Puppy-eyed. A little pathetic. A little irritating.
"I will," I nod at Giselle, then flick a glance at Finn. "You too."
Finn smiles—confident, almost defiant.
I slide into the car.
The door shuts with a dull click, cutting me off from my former reality. The cabin is cool, scented with leather and something else… something tempting. Christian drives with quiet confidence, almost lazily. His profile is sharp and controlled, like a Greek statue carved from stone.
"You might get hired today," he says calmly, as if he's giving me the weather forecast.
"Might?" I raise an eyebrow. "I thought it was already settled."
A faint smile touches one corner of his mouth.
"Almost."
That almost lodges itself between my shoulder blades.
"There's a chance of rejection. If Edward Cortland suspects you're Andre's new friend…" He pauses. "He'll shut the door in your face."
"Then I barely know Andre," I shrug. "And I'm not particularly interested in him."
Christian throws me a quick glance. Measuring. Testing.
"We'll see how you play it."
Play it.
So this is a game.
Something strange rises inside me—not fear. No.
Excitement? Adrenaline?
The feeling is sharp and new, like the first sip of strong alcohol. Christian impresses me—not just with his looks, though those don't hurt—but with the way he holds silence, as if he always knows two moves ahead.
But I don't throw myself at him.
I don't flirt.
I don't smile more than necessary.
I can tell—yes, he likes me. But no more than the dancers at Angel. And for some reason… that stings.
"What do you do, Christian?" The question slips out before I can stop it.
He doesn't answer right away.
"I work at the Angel club. Head of security."
"I don't think that's your main job."
For a split second, the car seems to slow. He glances at me—too fast to be accidental. And yes. For just a moment, he's caught off guard.
Got you.
"What makes you think that?" he asks evenly.
"You carry yourself with too much confidence for 'just security.'"
He laughs—low, calm.
"Not just security. Head of security."
I smile, but mentally file it away: cover story.
Whatever reason he needs me inside Solaris Dominion Group for, it's not about my career. Not really.
But I stay quiet. For now.
The city rushes past the windows. Santerra gleams with glass and money. And then, ahead of us, the building appears—Solaris Dominion Group. Cold. Tall. Self-assured. Like a man who has never doubted his power.
The car slows.
My heart beats a little faster.
My palms are damp.
I straighten my back.
It's just an interview, I tell myself.
Or the beginning of something much bigger.
Christian parks and cuts the engine.
"Ready?" he asks without looking at me.
I stare at the glass entrance.
And I understand: once I step out of this car, there's no way back.
"Of course," I say.
And I open the door.