Page 34 of The Bargain

But I don’t want to be thrown off. I want to know.

He laughs, rolls his eyes. “See, I would’ve thought you’d be all over him. Isn’t that your brand, too? Stuck-up rich kid who thinks they’re better than other rich kids?” He shrugs and tilts his head. “I used to think it was you, you know.”

What?

I’d be hurt if I wasn’t so taken aback.

“Why would you possibly think that?” I narrow my eyes at him. “And what makes you think he’s rich and not—like you?”

“Because you’re cruel enough, clever enough, and lonely enough to do it.” He scoffs. “And rich kids like you hate other rich kids for different reasons than kids like me do.”

“You mean because of jealousy?”

He smirks. “Because of self-hate.”

“Believe it or not,” I tell him, “I have too much to do to waste time hating myself.”

He laughs lightly. “Nah, you’re very well organised.” He leans closer and winks down at me. “You probably have your self-hate scheduled in fifteen-minute slots in between tennis and being Head Snitch, like a good girl.”

He says that last part with a husky undertone that sends an unexpected shiver down my spine.

“It might be easier pretending to be your girlfriend if you didn’t insist on being so fucking insufferable.”

His face is locked behind an unreadable expression. He stares down at me, and the intensity of his gaze is so unsettling I have the urge to turn and run from him. There’s a hot, swirling feeling in my stomach that’s probably a cocktail of annoyance and adrenaline.

Voices behind us startle us and I pull us both deeper within the bookshelves, out of sight. He follows me, laughter back on his face, dancing in his eyes and on the corners of his lips.

“So you have read the Inquisitor’s post,” he says.

He follows me into the corner so far that I have no choice but to end up pressed with my back to the bookshelves. Elias’s eyes narrow ever so slightly.

“You think he was there, then? At the Cyprian?”

I sigh. “I don’t know. I have no idea. I don’t care.”

“Maybe it’s your fancy cousin,” he says.

I stifle my laughter behind my hand, making sure my voice doesn’t rise above a whisper despite my surprise and amusement.

“Please, Blaise is incapable of keeping secrets. No chance.”

Elias gazes down at me curiously and then nods slowly.

“Mm… well, whoever he is,” he says finally, “he’s the one we’ll need to convince if we want everyone to buy our romance.”

“What makes you so sure the Inquisitor’s a he?”

He leans suddenly forward. His hand, as if by accident, comes to rest over my hipbone, fingers pressing so lightly they might not be there but for the heat of his skin. I stare up at him, blinking, suddenly too warm in the stifling library. The haze of heat blurs the air, blurs the space between us.

Elias smiles conspiratorially and answers in a breath.

“We’d better hope the Inquisitor’s a he.”

I stare at him. “Why?”

My voice comes out a little short, breathless like I’ve been looping drills.

“You of all people should know why,” he answers. “Because it’s much easier to fake it for a guy than for a girl.”