I’m led to a large room, meant for at least twenty people, and there are just two of us. Me,

feeling about the size of pea, and this giant across the room. And him.

He’s…pretty. The kind of pretty not really supposed to exist, especially in an older man. Hollywood beauty, except if there’s anything unreal, I can’t spot it. Sharp cheekbones, stunning bright eyes, perfect hair, the body of a Greek god, but with the dignified grace of someone in their thirties.

“Ms. Fairmont.”

Oh, great. Even his voice is hot. A rough, dark, slow, low grunt.

“Yes, sir.” Lily would approve. “That’s me.”

Please, for the love of God, please stop me from rambling.

I know that’s my default mode when I’m stressed out.

“Indeed. Take a seat.”

I do as I’m told without a word. He remains standing.

“Claire, is it? Do you mind if I call you Claire?”

“Of course, sir,” I happily parrot.

“I’m sure there are many other things we’d both rather be doing on a fine Sunday evening, Claire.”

I nod.

“So let’s get this over with in as fast as possible, yes?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You won’t mind if I speak plainly. This university was built and founded for one purpose: educating the children of certain families. Nowadays, when a school achieves this level of excellence, many young students, such as you, aspire to be accepted there. So we opened it up. It is the modern way. But, Claire, don’t mistake what that means. Rothford remains ours.”

He takes a few steps, crossing the length of the long table until he’s only a few feet away from me.

“Some of the students here are rather stupid, actually. But their fathers, and their fathers’ fathers, spent money and time to ensure they could still have a place to improve upon their former level of stupidity, turning them into something more or less useful to society. Do you understand?”

Again, I nod, because I really do. Isn’t it the way everywhere? People don’t truly need to be super-smart to get into an Ivy League either; not if they have the right surname, the right amount of money. I know this. I hate it, but I know it all the same.

“You’re no one’s daughter.”