PROLOGUE
LANA
Ihate this.
I hate that I’m here. I hate what happened to bring me here. I hate everything about this place, and I’ve only just walked through those pretentious wrought iron gates that surround the campus.
A place like this would have never been on my radar if it weren’t for the massive shit show that led me here.
I don’t belong here, I know that.
And the other students clearly know that, too, if the stifling looks that they keep giving me are anything to go by. Between the walk from the entrance to the main reception where I was told to sign in, I’ve seen probably twenty people, and they’ve all glanced at me in the same way.
They’re wondering who I am and why I’m here.
They’re wondering if I’ve gotten lost.
They believe I shouldn’t be walking among them, never mind in their fancy private college.
I enter the main building, holding in a scoff as I stare up at the impressive structure. It’s clear that this place was built bypeople with money intent to educate those with money. The place is meant for the elite of the elite.
They don’t even allow scholarship students, for Christ’s sake.
The inside of the building is even worse. It’s grand, with gold trims lining the edges of the walls, and you can almost smell the prestige in the air.
It smells disgusting.
I turn the corner, knowing the reception area is now in my sights since I studied the map of the place, and hit a wall.
No, a chest.
I grunt and back up, glaring at whoever I’ve just walked into.
Green eyes. Dark hair. Muscled. Handsome. Angry.
God, what a cliché.
Is this the part where I start swooning?
“Watch where you’re walking, dumbass,” I mutter.
“Excuse me?” He scoffs and looks me up and down. “Who the fuck are you?”
I give him a derisive look, not even bothering with pleasantries. I can sense they won’t get me anywhere.
“None of your business,” I say and sidestep him. He mutters something under his breath, but I don’t bother trying to decipher it. I just carry on walking, intent on getting on with the rest of this shitty day.
ONE
COLE
She’s here again.
Every day for the last two weeks, she’s been sitting in the same spot in the library when I come in. It doesn’t matter if I choose a different time every day; she still manages to be here.
The girl in question transferred here a few weeks ago at the beginning of our junior year of college. I only know she’s in the same grade as me because we share a class, plus people won’t shut the hell up about her. She’s been the talk of the whole goddamn university since she arrived. I can’t go anywhere without hearing whispers about the mystery ofwho Lana James is.
At any other school, a random transfer would be completely normal, right? Well not here at BU. Blackwater University was established decades ago, opened for the sole purpose of educating the elite. This school is so exclusive that even the richest of the rich struggle to get placements for their children. New money? Forget it. So, for this girl—who no one seems to know anything about, who no one has any idea whoher family is—to just turn up out of the blue is a goddamn mystery.
