Alex stood over her, the weight of his presence filling the silent foyer like a physical pressure.
He could feel the rhythmic, desperate pull of her mouth... a mouth that had once laughed at the sound of his breaking ribs, a mouth that had once participated in calculating his "points" for a petty ski trip.
From this angle, Jennifer Vanderbilt was a study in failed perfection. Her jaw was stretched to its absolute limit, the tendons in her neck cording like strained wires. Her eyes were wide, watering, and fixed on him with a look of terrifying, competitive hunger.
She thought she was winning. She thought this was a "fortress" she could conquer through sheer Vanderbilt willpower.
A cold, dark amusement surged through him.
Alex thought about reaching up and peeling back the mask. He imagined the exact moment the "Scholarship Boy" would stare back at her.
