Part 2: Moonlight and Threats
1279 Words
The party continued around us, but the chandelier incident had shifted the energy. Students clustered in smaller groups, voices hushed as they speculated about what had caused the sway. Some blamed old wiring, others suggested someone had bumped into it, but I caught several worried glances directed toward Julian’s retreating form.
“I need some air,” I told Nick, who was still scanning the ceiling like more chandeliers might start falling at any moment.
“Want company?”
“I’ll be fine. Just five minutes.”
I slipped through the crowd toward the balcony doors, grateful to escape the increasingly suffocating atmosphere of forced celebration. The October night was crisp and clear, with a full moon casting silver light across the academy grounds. The sounds of the party muffled behind the glass doors, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
Or so I thought.
“Running away from your own debut performance?”
I turned to find Alexander leaning against the stone railing, his silhouette dark against the moonlit sky. Up close, I could see that his earlier composed mask had slipped even further. His tie was loosened, his hair slightly mussed, and there was something almost vulnerable in his expression.
“I needed air. The chandelier thing was...”
“Suspicious?” he supplied. “Yeah, I noticed that too.”
“You think someone did that on purpose?”
Alexander moved closer, and I caught the scent of expensive cologne mixed with whatever he’d been drinking. “Julian d’Aubigny doesn’t have friends, Isabella. He has subjects, enemies, and people who want to use him. The fact that someone tried to drop a chandelier on him isn’t shocking—it’s overdue.”
“That’s a horrible thing to say.”
“It’s an honest thing to say.” His gray eyes were intense in the moonlight. “This world isn’t kind to people who don’t understand the rules.”
“And what are the rules, exactly?”
“Rule number one: everyone lies.” He stepped closer, close enough that I could see the sharp line of his jaw, the way his eyes reflected the light. “Rule number two: everyone has an agenda. Rule number three: trust no one.”
“Sounds lonely.”
“It’s practical.” His voice dropped lower. “Which brings me to you.”
“Me?”
“You’re not who you pretend to be, Isabella Virelli.” The way he said my name made it sound like an accusation. “I’ve been watching you, and nothing adds up. Your clothes, your mannerisms, your complete lack of intimidation by any of this—” he gestured toward the party behind us “—none of it fits the scholarship student narrative.”
My heart hammered against my ribs, but I kept my voice steady. “Maybe you don’t know as much about scholarship students as you think you do.”
“Maybe.” He was close enough now that I could feel the warmth radiating from his body. “Or maybe you’re playing a game that’s way more sophisticated than anyone realizes.”
“I’m not playing anything.”
“Everyone’s playing something here.” His hand came up to rest against the stone railing beside my head, effectively trapping me between his body and the balcony wall. “The question is whether you’re a player or a pawn.”
“And which do you think I am?”
His smile was dangerous in the moonlight. “I think you’re exactly what Julian and I have been looking for. I think you’re smart enough to be dangerous and interesting enough to be worth the risk. And I think—” he leaned closer, his breath warm against my ear “—you’re going to prove it whether you want to or not.”
“Because of your bet?” The words slipped out before I could stop them.
Alexander went very still. “What do you know about that?”
“Enough to know that I’m apparently the prize in some competition I didn’t agree to enter.”
For a moment, his mask slipped completely, and I saw something raw and almost desperate in his expression. “It’s not what you think.”
“Then what is it?”
“It’s—” He seemed to struggle with the words. “Complicated.”
“Everything at this school is complicated.”
“Some things more than others.” His hand moved from the railing to hover near my face, not quite touching but close enough that I could feel the potential of it. “I’m going to prove what you’re hiding, Isabella. And when I do, you’ll understand why the bet matters less than you think.”
Before I could ask what he meant by that, the balcony doors opened behind us. We sprang apart like we’d been caught doing something f*******n, though technically we’d just been talking.
“There you are.” Nick’s voice carried a note of relief. “I was starting to worry.”
“Just getting some air,” I said, grateful for the excuse to step away from Alexander’s unsettling intensity.
Alexander straightened his tie and gave Nick a nod that was perfectly polite and completely cold. “Sterling. Quite a performance in there.”
“Just being myself,” Nick replied evenly.
“Of course.” Alexander’s smile was all teeth. “How refreshing.”
The tension between them was thick enough to cut with a knife. I looked from one to the other, wondering if this was about the fake relationship or something deeper.
“We should get back to the party,” I said finally.
“Probably.” Alexander pushed off from the railing with fluid grace. “Enjoy the rest of your evening. Both of you.”
He disappeared back through the balcony doors, leaving Nick and me alone in the moonlight.
“What was that about?” Nick asked.
“I’m not entirely sure.” I smoothed down my borrowed dress, trying to shake off the lingering effects of Alexander’s intense scrutiny. “He thinks I’m hiding something.”
“Are you?”
I looked at Nick’s honest face, his warm brown eyes full of genuine concern. He’d been nothing but kind to me, entering our fake relationship with the same earnestness he brought to everything else. He deserved better than more lies.
“Everyone’s hiding something at this school,” I said finally. “The question is which secrets matter.”
We rejoined the party, and I tried to lose myself in the music and champagne-soaked conversations. But as the night wore on, I couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. Every time I turned around, I caught glimpses of Marcus observing from the shadows, Julian holding court with theatrical gestures, Alexander nursing another drink while his eyes tracked my every movement.
It wasn’t until I was getting ready to leave that I discovered the note.
I was in the bathroom, checking my makeup one last time, when I felt something crinkle against my back. Reaching behind me, I found a small piece of paper pinned to the fabric of my dress, hidden beneath the flowing silk.
My hands shook as I unfolded it.
Beautiful gown for a scholarship student.
The same elegant handwriting. The same subtle threat. But this time, they’d gotten close enough to touch me, to pin something to my dress without me noticing.
I looked around the empty bathroom, suddenly paranoid. How long had the note been there? Who had gotten close enough to attach it without me realizing?
And more importantly—what did they want?
- Writer
