Chapter 8 Eight

The rest of my classes move slowly, and by the third one, I'm wishing I'd allowed Adrian's men follow me into Finance. It might've gotten a few stares-maybe more than a few, but at least I'd have something to distract me.

I don't see them lurking around, either.

The car was gone when I stepped out of the hall, and no burly-looking man appeared behind me as I moved around the campus building. I didn't think Adrian suddenly decided I was right, though.

A man like him would rather chew nails. I knew they were around-probably blending in with the trees and the sculptures littered across the campus environment. They'd fit right in with the sculptures.

I drag my bag higher on my shoulder as I walk into my final class, sighing audibly. I make my way to the back, as usual, plopping in an empty row.

The lecturer hasn't shown up.

"Hi."

I turn, my brows furrowing when I see a boy standing by my desk. Shaggy blond hair, the kind that women always fall for because they look messy and cute at the same time, with a graphic hoodie on and a pair of slacks. An odd combination, but it looks good on him. He points to the seat next to me.

"Is that taken?"

I blink slowly. "What?"

He flashes a smile. Two rows of pearly white teeth. "The seat next to you. I was wondering if it was empty."

Yeah, I heard that. But-

I glance around the hall, a seating space for about a hundred people. The front rows are empty-nobody typically sat there-but there were other empty spaces too. Why here? I turn back to him with a polite smile. "What about sitting somewhere else? I chose the back for a reason."

He purses his lips and rubs the back of his neck in an endearing way. "I...know. We had finance together. You were a few rows behind. I wanted to say hi, but you left in a hurry." Because I thought I could blend into the crowd and slip past the bodyguards. Turns out I didn't have to get stepped on and pushed into the corner.

Shaggy blond hair stretches out his hand. "Hi... I'm Shane. Shane Williams."

I stare at it, my mind blank for a moment. I've talked to a couple people before-I wasn't a loner per se-but I didn't go out of my way to make friends. I had enough on my plate: my jobs, my deadbeat father, who I needed to find before he spent all his money or drag him out of a bar, passed out and drooling.

"What's your name?" He asks warmly. "I asked a few people, but none of them seemed to know. I didn't want to come out like a stalker, so I thought I'd ask you."

Oh.

I feel the tiniest of flutters in my chest. Just a little, but it makes me warm enough inside to reach for the handshake. "I'm Al-"

"She's my girlfriend." A deeper, slightly sultry voice interrupts our introduction. Shane turns around at the same time my jaw drops. His brows scrunch low. "Your girlfriend?"

The man behind him nods, shoving both hands into his pocket. "Yes. Do you have any problems with that?"

Shane turns to me, but I'm too stunned to speak. His face turns red in seconds. He mutters something under his breath and hurries away.

"Glad to see you too, Miss Wilson. While I'm aware that I do have that effect on women, I think I hear a buzzing in the air." He swipes his hand over his head. "You might want to bring your lips a little closer."

I shut my mouth as the shock wears off. Julian Hawthorne. The youngest Hawthorne brother. I met him at the auction. We didn't speak much, but I remember he was nice to me. "What are you doing here?" I ask.

He shrugs loosely with a half-smile. "I thought I'd keep you company."

"Company?" I echo. I haven't seen him since that day. Adrian mentioned that his brothers would come around often, but he said nothing about one of them showing up to my class. Julian points at the seat Shane just asked for, his upper lip twitching. "Is it taken?"

Yes.

I don't want the Hawthornes in my personal space-nice or not. "No," I find myself saying.

He moves in, planting himself down with a soft sigh. He rolls his shoulders and leans back, flashing me a grin. "Sorry about that night...leaving you alone with my brother. I should've given you a heads-up about how-" he taps his chin, searching for the word, "-micromanaging he can be."

"Micromanaging?" I'm navigating a maze at this point.

His smile falls off. His brows wrinkle. "You really don't know why I'm here, do you? I assumed you would've figured him out by now. I thought you were putting on a show for little mr. hurt and yearning over there."

Julian points to my left. I glance over, just in time to see Shane look away quickly. I thought he'd moved to somewhere further, but he ended up in the next section, two rows in front of me.

I turn to Julian, shaking my head. "I don't."

He clicks his tongue. "Then you might not like this."

"I enrolled for my second master's at Princeton. But a week ago, my brother had me transfer her. He did agree to sell me the bar I'd been asking for," he adds, more to himself, then turns to me. "But he wanted me to keep an eye on you. Report back to him now and then."

The anger that fills me is slow. It starts with doubt-Adrian Hawthorne is a controlling asshole, but he would never get this extreme, to realizing that he in fact would, because I'm his business and he knows how to handle it.

To fuming.

"F-"

The lecturer walks into the class. Julian clears his throat. He offers a placating smile, air-patting my shoulder. "There, there. I'm pretty sure attendance is mandatory here, so why don't we save our rage until later? I own a rage room."

"I don-" I start to refuse.

But he's already on his feet, heading to the front of the class. He nods at the lecturer, shoving his hands into his pocket and sauntering out. I don't miss the lingering, admiring looks he gets from a group of girls a few rows ahead.

One of them takes out her phone, but he's already gone.

I facepalm, hard, muffling my frustrated groan. God, in heaven. I want to strangle Adrian Hawthorne.