Chapter 1

Primrose

The meeting room was an old classroom up on the second floor overlooking the Commons Field, and the trees speckling with their first flushes of autumn color brushed against the long row of small windows on one wall. Zachary Cohn looked up from his laptop, flicking his curly black hair back from his face and raising one hand in a wave.

“Hey. How’s it going?”

I pushed the door open, stepping inside, and it swung itself slowly shut behind me. I glanced around the room—the projector screen pulled down but nothing on it yet, only half the overhead lights on, empty chairs running along the tables that made a ring around the room. “It’s going,” I said. “What, party for two today?”

“Wanted to ask you something in private, if you get my drift.”

I frowned, pushing myself up onto a seat on the table across from him. “Zach. Zachary. Zaxophone. I did your dirty work just two weeks ago.”

He pushed his chair back, kicking his feet up on his table. He had his douchey black leather jacket on today, wearing a few simple rings, and his black biker boots were probably going to leave a stain on the table. “That time was for show. This time is for keeps.”

The door unlatched behind me, and I glanced back at where Matthew Thompson slipped into the room with a quick smile my way. Talk about a breath of fresh air. FIRE was a cutthroat group, and there was a reason Zachary was head honcho, but Matty always had my back. Nice enough guy, even if I wasn’t sure why he was in the group—his daddy owned a PNC branch in town and his family had solidly established themselves as petite bourgeoisie.

Whatever. Everyone had their reasons for catching FIRE. And Zachary knew Matthew and I were tight—he wouldn’t let Matty in here for this if he were trying to tighten the screws right now.

“How’s it going, Matty?” I said, and he made a noncommittal noise, sitting next to me.

“Jessica’s snotty and rude, and the cafeteria messed up the coffee again, but it is what it is.”

“Messed up your coffee,” Zachary said. “The only one at fault is the fussy little prince who needs his soy latte just right.”

“Eat a dick, Zach. It’s got protein. The soy latte, not the dick, but maybe you could put some muscle on that way too.”

Matthew hadn’t seen protein a day in his life—he had a wiry figure with brown hair just a little on the long side and a refined kind of delicacy, dressing just on the bearable side of classy. Zach gave him shit for being the princeling, but he’d established his role well as the upper-class envoy for FIRE, so he knew he wasn’t going anywhere. And so as usual, Zach flipped him off, but not without a dry little smile, turning back to me.

“You pull this off nicely, and I’ve got something good in store for you.”

Matt folded his arms on the table. “You’re already springing this on her?”

I shot him a look. “You knew I was up for more dirty work? Could have told me, man.”

“Zachy-poo told me lips sealed. I only heard about it last night, anyway.”

“Besides, you love this kind of thing,” Zach said. “Told me yourself when you got on your knees begging to be let in, didn’t you? Said you live for the thrill of the chase.”

I shrugged my jacket up over my shoulders, planting my hands on the desk and hunching. “I do, but that doesn’t mean I’m on call to do it every day.”

“All right. I’ll give you that.” Zach put a hand up. “This came out of nowhere, and I’m sorry for putting you through the wringer. Promise I’ll give you some time after this to let the heat die down.”

Matthew flipped his phone from his pocket, glancing idly at it. “You don’t need to make it sound like we’re mobsters, Zach. It gets a little embarrassing.”

“I’m not a mobster just because I can organize a group, dickwad,” Zach said. I put a hand up.

“Okay, boys, quit dick-waving and get to the point. Just tell me who the guy is.”

Zachary dropped his feet back on the floor, leaning in and folding his arms on the table, smiling slyly at me. “Junior in information systems. Daddy works in finance—real Wolf of Wall Street type. Kid’s a spoiled brat, but has a reputation for being charming, sweet, lovely. Good at getting in with people.”

“How’d he piss you off?”

“Don’t worry about that. I want access, first off. And then I want you to make it hurt.”

I sighed. “Okay, okay. I’m a spy now, sure. What’s his name?”

“Giselle Lawson.”

I did a double take so hard I might have left orbit. “Giselle Lawson?”

“Oh, so you know her.”

I needed my hands around this asshole’s throat. “Are you kidding me? I’m not a lesbian.”

He put his hands up. “I’m not asking you to fall in love with her, Prims. I want her to fall in love with you.”

“It’s a no. I’ve got terms and conditions, man.” I shot Matthew a look. “You signed off on this, dude?”

“Signed off?” Matthew scoffed. “You think Zach wanted my signature?”

Zachary leaned back, kicking his feet back up. “Don’t throw a fit. We all make sacrifices for the group.”

“I’m not getting in bed with a woman, Zach. The hell?”

“So don’t. Make her…” He gestured vaguely, searching for words. “Make her pine for you. Long for you. I know how you operate. You can string someone along so well they’ll do anything just for a touch on the hand.”

“I just said, it’s a no. Find some other way to pick on her.” I slid down from the table, turning back towards the door. “Take Matty’s advice and eat a dick, Zach.”

“You do this and we drop the Chris Torres thing,” he said, and I stopped with my hand on the handle, a cold sensation running through my chest. The room fell into quiet for a long minute, silence desperate for a voice to break it, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to jump for the opportunity or break Zachary’s jaw so I wouldn’t have to hear his smug crap anymore.

It was Matthew’s voice that broke the silence finally. “She said no, dude.”

“That’s fine,” Zachary said. “She’ll be at the party Saturday. She can give me a proper answer then.”

“You have a proper answer,” Matthew said, and I tuned them both out—turned the doorhandle and marched out, my footsteps ringing through the Commons Hall, echoing between the students all around me, pushing every which way, rushing to their next class, to meet their friends, here, there, everywhere.

I hadn’t intended to make myself Zachary’s attack dog, but you had a way of finding your skills, your specialties. FIRE was a group of underdogs hungry to claw our way into the big leagues, and we got into scrapes along the way. When Zach wanted somebody hurt—really hurt—he called me up. And I’d do the worst thing I could to the guy who’d crossed him: get him to fall in love with me, and then crush his heart.

I wasn’t heroine material. But these dickwads deserved it. And besides, who didn’t enjoy taking a week or two of a whirlwind romance, the ego boost that was somebody else so infatuated with you they couldn’t live without you? And who didn’t love the addicting feeling of power holding someone else’s heart in your hand, wondering the most painful way to dig your fingernails into its ventricles, and seeing the target left broken and shattered on the floor without you?

Made a girl feel good about herself. I’d already been an addict long before I signed up to do it at Zachary’s beck and call for FIRE.

But if there was one thing in this world I couldn’t stand, it was someone thinking they could walk all over me.

∞∞∞

My apartment was a cozy one, technically off-campus but just across the street, with a sand volleyball court in the center plaza and a beautiful garden walk I always took on the way into the building. Place cost a fortune, but Ava Reyes had a special little sweetheart deal with someone in the office here, and a couple of our FIRE members got in for next to nothing.

Not the main ones, of course—not the ones everyone saw, like Zachary and Matthew and a dozen others. They lived right in the thick of it. But my entire game would unravel if people knew I was associated with FIRE.

I slotted my keycard at my door and pushed inside, into where the common area was stocked full to bursting with plants, the extra-wide window on the wall overlooking the pond drifting with the first couple fallen leaves of the autumn. The room smelled like ginger—Ava Reyes stood at the stove, wearing her cat-ear hoodie that she’d made her signature, and she glanced back from where she stirred a skillet.

“You’re back early,” she said. “Zaxophone was boring enough you bounced?”

“Pissed me off, that’s what happened,” I said, shutting the door behind me, hanging up my bag by the door. “Tell me what you’re making and that you’re making me some.”

“It’s just a stir-fry. Lazy stuff.”

“Then it’s lazy stuff for you to up the portion for me.”

“God, you’re bossy. Fine, I’ll share. Just bring back Yun’s shortbread cookies from the party.”

“Go yourself.” I dropped onto the couch, bending over to take my shoes off.

“Jeez.” She turned to face me, leaning against the counter and folding her arms. She was a short girl, Filipina with warm-toned skin, choppy black hair that framed her face, owning her I-don’t-give-a-fuck fashion choice, wearing her extra-long hoodie as a minidress and checkered leggings. “Zachary really pissed you off that bad? What’d he ask you to do, sleep with some smelly douchebag with an unwashed asshole from the basketball team?”

“You’re almost there on the athletics part. Star figure skater.”

She frowned. “Figure skater? Not hockey? I didn’t think our school even had anyone doing figure skating.”

I shoved my hands in my jacket pockets, kicking my feet up on the coffee table and leaning back against where Ava’s monstera brushed my hair. “I happen to know a couple things about our athletics programs, and there’s exactly one figure skater with any competitive potential. And Zach wants me to seduce her.”

“Her?”

“And that’s why I stormed out.”

She made a face. “That’s a new one. So, what? Why’s Zach so mad about her?”

“Wouldn’t say. Seems really into it. Promised me a life of luxury if I get it done.”

She studied me a while longer before she turned back to the skillet, picking up the wooden spoon she used to cook everything. “Guess it’s not really about love anyway, is it, Sunburns?”

“Lay off. Now you’re in on it too?”

“I’m just saying, guess I could see it.”

“Forget about it. I’m not seducing a woman.”

“How’d Zax take it?”

I grunted, pulling my phone from my pocket. A text message from the exact person I didn’t want right now—Zachary Cohn, just come through a minute ago. Look, forget the stuff earlier. Can you just go check on Andrea instead? She was supposed to be here and she’s not responding to my messages.

“Uh… grouchy,” I said, finally, after taking a few tries while blinking at the message. “Or maybe so.”

“Maybe so?” Ava turned back, giving me a look. “What’s maybe so mean?”

“Dunno.” I put my phone back in my pocket, standing up. “You don’t know where Andrea is, right?”

“Carlisle? I heard her in her apartment when I came in just, like, twenty minutes ago. What’s up?”

“Nothing. Save some stir-fry for me, I’m going to be famished.” I picked my bag back up, heading for the door.

“Not just sitting on the food waiting to serve you,” she called after me as I opened the door.

“You’d better,” I shouted back through the door before I shut it, starting down the stairs towards Andrea’s apartment.