Chapter 153
“Daph.” Leo called softly from the living room.
Daph came over as he asked, “Do you like Mr. Shaw?”
He’d just overheard her conversation with Selene.
“I do!” Daph answered cheerfully, with no hesitation. “Mr. Shaw is really nice! When Mom’s teaching at the Shaws‘ place, I nap at his house, and I always hear an angel whispering to me that Mr. Shaw is a truly wonderful person!”
An angel?
With that one line, Leo saw right through Adrian’s little trick.
So, a sly fox wanted to steal his rose, did he?
He leaned in and said to Daph, “Next time, pretend to be asleep and see if the angel still comes to whisper. As soon as you hear it, open your eyes. That way, you’ll finally catch a glimpse of your angel.”
Daph’s eyes lit up at the idea and she nodded enthusiastically. She’d been dying to know what the mysterious angel who whispered to her actually looked like.
Selene came out of her room again, waving her hand in front of her face to cool herself down. In the end, she chose two evening gowns–both would be tailored to fit her current measurements. She’d even picked out a little dress for Daph, as a reward for her courage at school.
The following week:
Selene sat in the car, dressed in her evening gown, when Adrian sent her a link.
She tapped it open. The Capital University student forum was buzzing.
Apparently, the president of the breakdancing club, Wyatt, had performed a handstand spin–and, mortifyingly, lost control of his bowels–in his dorm room.
Though the door was tightly shut, a stench still leaked into the hallway.
Some students, not knowing what was going on, suspected that someone had smuggled chemicals out of a lab and into the dorm–there had been incidents like that at other universities.
They told the building manager that room 1206 kept reeking, and that there were
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disturbing sounds of people retching Inside.
The manager burst in, only to find several math majors, all evenly smeared with well, the mess, and Wyatt, legs in the air, looking as pale as a ghost.
The poor manager promptly lost his lunch right then and there.
“They sent me videos of the whole thing, but I’ll spare you,” Adrian messaged Selene.
“Just reading about it makes me want to sterilize my phone,” she replied, thoroughly uninterested in Wyatt’s latest disaster.
Then Adrian sent over several photos.
Selene’s heart skipped. Was he really about to send her something risqué?
She braced herself and looked.
Not risqué–thank God.
She let out a breath, a tiny spark of anticipation fizzling out.
The photos showed Wyatt on campus, snapped by other students. He was wearing a baseball jacket, and on the back, in bold letters, it read:
I ranked 112 places below Selene in the ALI Math Competition.
The other students walking with him wore matching jackets, each one listing their own ranking–just as humiliating.
Selene suddenly remembered the bet she’d made with this group from Capital University.
“Did they actually honor the bet on their own?”
“Not a chance,” Adrian replied. “If they keep dragging their feet, I’ll make sure they lose everything–including their boxers.”
Streetlights flickered over Selene’s face, catching the amused little smile at the corner of her lips.
“I’m almost at The Intercontinental,” she texted.
“See you soon.” Adrian’s/reply came with a moon emoji.
Selene’s long lashes fluttered as she drew a deep breath, gathering up her wandering thoughts. She turned away, letting the dazzling cityscape outside the window distract her.
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Because of the Tech Summit welcome gala at The Intercontinental, traffic restricted in the area. Selene’s car slowed as they reached the police checkpoint.
A traffic officer stepped forward, and she showed her Invitation. He waved her through.
Meanwhile, out front at The Intercontinental’s entrance, a top–of–the–line Maybach rolled to a stop beside the red carpet.
The car door opened, and Harrison stepped out, dressed in a slate–gray suit. The moment he appeared, a storm of camera flashes burst around him, like a thousand fireworks igniting at once.
He was almost unfairly handsome–tall, broad–shouldered, with strikingly chiseled features, as if some Renaissance master had carved him from marble.
On either side of the red carpet, the press were lined up behind barricades, kept at a respectful distance from the guests.
Harrison didn’t head straight inside. Instead, he paused, waiting for his companion.
Gemma emerged next, her jet–black hair swept into a neat chignon at the nape of her neck. At fifty–five, she still moved with the poise and grace of a much younger woman. Her skin was so well cared for, it seemed to glow.
She joined Harrison, smiling and waving to the assembled media.
“I can’t believe Gemma’s showing her face at an event after everything that’s happened,” one reporter murmured in surprise.
“You mean the Charteris bribery scandal? The Vaughn family matriarch got caught using her position as a board member to squeeze out rivals, but now that she’s been removed from the board, the investigation’s basically over,” another replied.
A third shook their head. “Trust the Vaughns–she comes out clean after a shake–up like that in the education world.”
Just then, a silver Mercedes pulled up behind the Maybach.
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