Chapter 7

Dear Mom,

I think he hates me and I don't know why. But my eyes can't help but look at him and the way he stares at me…it sets my body on fire. And sometimes, I sense admiration in his eyes. Why are we drawn to the forbidden? Sometimes, I wonder if I have a masochistic streak in me.

Love, Millie

"SO HOW"S LA? It's been a while, right?" A pair of bright gray eyes reminding me of a certain brooding someone meet mine on the computer screen.

Munching sounds also filter through the speakers. Taylor Peyton, my best friend from home, is chewing on carrot sticks as we meet up for our weekly video chat.

"Yeah. It's nice to be back here after so many years."

I sit back in my chair, my body wrapped in a pink, fuzzy robe after a quick shower. My fingers fiddle with the half-done shoddy attempt at mittens and begin unraveling the yarn. How do those videos make them look so easy?

"What did I miss? Hey, Millie. We miss you already. Why are you taking your project apart?" an energetic voice says from the background.

A flurry of bright purple flashes across the screen and settles next to Taylor, who's rolling her eyes at her sister and squinting at the ill-fitting sweater she has on.

"How do you have so much energy, Grace? You've been up since five this morning and it's eleven at night now and you still act like a fucking Energizer Bunny."

Grace grins and waggles her brows, her brilliant eyes, so blue they almost appear violet, flashing in humor. "I think I took all the energy between the two of us. And you definitely sleep enough for the two of us."

"Your positivity is revolting," Taylor spits back, but I can see the fondness in her eyes.

The two of them are Irish twins, with Grace being one year older than Taylor, and their personalities can't be any more different. Grace is the positive, go-getter older sister and Taylor is the grumpy, "the sky is falling, and the apocalypse is around the corner" younger sister. They are the most loyal girls I've ever met and are my family outside of Adrian and Dad.

"Millie was saying it was nice to be in LA," a new husky voice joins us and another monitor flickers on, showing the last of our quartet, Annabelle Law-McKenzie, known to her friends as Belle. "Sorry, I crept in there silently and didn't want to interrupt your daily bickering."

I snort and unwind the towel wrapped around my hair and shake out the wet strands. A deep warmth fills me. "I miss you girls a lot. While I'm glad to be back in LA after twelve years, it no longer feels like home. Home is where you guys are."

A chorus of "awwws" echoes and Taylor scrunches her nose, her skull-shaped piercing glinting under the lamplight. She once said her body piercings are expressions of her art and her mood. I guess someone must've pissed her off today.

"You're going to make me cry, woman," she grunts. Grace laughs and shoves her gently.

I show them my knitting disaster. "And this project needs to be scrapped and restarted. This looks ridiculous."

"You're such a perfectionist, Millie. Those mittens look fine to me! Anyway, what did you do so far? How was your first day of class? Any cute guys? How's Hollywood?" Grace rapidly fires her questions as she leans eagerly toward the camera.

"Oh God," I mutter.

"What? I'm living vicariously through you. It's not like I'll be able to travel across the country for a vacation of my own."

She grimaces before exchanging a solemn glance with her sister, who gives her a comforting pat on her shoulder. I gnaw on my bottom lip.

"Not for long, Grace. Once you graduate and kick ass in the finance world, you'll be able to afford grand trips around the world and do everything you've always wanted to do," Belle gently suggests, giving her best friend a wink.

The Peyton sisters have had a rough go in life. Their dad is a no-show and they live with their mom in a seedy part of Bronx. But Grace is smart and has a full ride to NYUC, where she met Belle a few years ago, and Taylor, likewise, has a full scholarship at her dance academy. I have a feeling their days of pinching pennies will end soon.

Grace waves Belle away, her face flushed, no doubt from the compliments. Taylor pops another carrot in her mouth, the crunching noise loud over the speakers.

She swallows and says, "And if Grace can't hack it, we'll always have you, Belle. When you guys have those fancy ass New York or Paris fashion shows, I'll provide free labor in exchange for room and board."

Belle laughs and ties her sleek black hair in a messy topknot.

Our quartet is a strange bunch. Grace is the spunky, smart one determined to make something out of her circumstances. Taylor is the grunge-makeup-wearing, multiple-body-piercing ballerina. Then there's Belle, the old money, high society heir to a fashion empire and also the only child of an international supermodel from Asia, and me, the girl who is "just Millie," trying to pursue her dreams of becoming a teacher with no one knowing my connection to one of the most reclusive billionaires in the country.

That's right, the girls don't know my connection to Adrian. I met them shortly after Lloyd broke up with me and I didn't want any of my future relationships to be tainted in the same way. But now, several years in, I can't help but feel guilty I've been withholding part of myself to my girls, because they aren't Lloyd. But it's hard to open up and tell the truth after years of secrecy.

"Anyway, spill. Tell me all about sunny California."

I snort and set aside the yarn on my desk. "Not so sunny. There was a storm a few days ago and my first day was a disaster." I tell them what happened with my oversleeping and my face-planting entrance. My skin heats thinking about that day.

"That sounds horrible and so unlike you! You're Ms. I'm prepared for anything! Did you get in trouble?" Grace asks, her eyes wide.

"I don't think my professor likes me. And that's putting it mildly. But it could be worse. I could be having one of my horrible periods and dealing with this crap at the same time."

Letting out a sigh, I brush my damp hair. It's true. Or at least, that's what I tell myself, imagining how much worse my encounter with Professor Anderson would be if I were dealing with stabbing cramps and cold sweats.

I change the subject, not wanting to discuss him further when I barely understand my feelings myself. "But other than that, things have been good. The campus is beautiful, and I finally got to visit the exotic blooms exhibit at the LA Arboretum and Greenhouse last weekend. Those beauties were a sight to behold."

I smile, thinking of the delicate white petals of the ghost orchid, the vibrant colors of the middlemist red, the striking blue green of the jade vine.

Mom would have loved it if she were here. When I was younger, she was too busy with her two jobs to take us to the Arboretum, not to mention the price of admission for a family of four was staggering and we didn't have the funds to spare.

Someday, I want to open a greenhouse for the public so everyone can access these flowers for free.

I look down, my eyes prickling as a lump forms in my throat. It's been twelve years since I lost Mom, and there are some wounds time cannot heal. Deep down inside, I'll always be the little girl missing the warm hugs from her mom and wishing she can feel protected in her embrace instead of pretending to be brave in front of everyone else. A wetness trickles down my cheek and I quickly swipe my hand to hide the evidence of my tears.

I whisper, "But being back here has been more difficult than I expected. I miss Mom."

Glancing up, I see three frowning faces staring at me in concern and I twist my lips into something I hope resembles a smile. I don't want them to worry about me. "It was nice. I feel closer to her than I've ever had in over a decade. These are happy tears."

I grab the packet of gummy bears from the corner of the desk—my little pieces of happiness—and plop one into my mouth, savoring the sweet flavor. Food makes everything better.

"Aw, Millie. I'd hug you if you were next to me," Taylor whispers, her eyes taking on a wet sheen, "And I don't fucking like to hug people. Gives me the hives," she gripes, earning snickers from all of us, effectively breaking the strange tension.

"So, any guys? Hotties on campus?" Belle grins and waggles her brows.

My mind automatically flashes to a pair of slate-gray eyes, the color of molten quicksilver, a tall, arresting man in a dark suit, and I flinch. He's definitely not a "guy" but all man. Tingles appear in my lower belly.

Nonsense. He's your professor, Millie. He's forbidden.

"What's that look on your face?" Grace peers quizzically at me, her face plastered up against her screen.

I blink and look around, my skin feeling warm once more. Dammit. I twist my hands on my lap. "What face?"

"That face. There's someone, isn't there?" She's like a vulture hovering around a dying animal.

My bedroom door squeaks open, and Jocelyn traipses in with my insulated mug. "You left this in the kitchen," she whispers, before waving to the girls on the screen and dashing out of my room.

I take a sip of the hot chocolate, nearly spitting out the scalding contents. Darn insulated mugs for keeping contents boiling hot.

I need to throw some salt over my shoulders or sage the room or something to ward off more mishaps in the future.

I shake my head, my eyes watering. "There's no one. Absolutely no one. I'm here to kick ass, get good grades so I can get into the honors program when I'm back. That's it. No distractions." And definitely no distractions with professors.

"You have to go out and enjoy yourself, Millie. Life can't only be about studying and getting ahead. We never see you date, and I think you've only mentioned that asshole ex of yours before, who I very much want to beat up based on what you've told me about that chauvinistic lecher."

She sighs. "Or if I had a pet, like a good guard dog, I'd find him and set it on him. I hear dogs are good at sniffing out assholes." Belle cracks her knuckles, her eyes taking on a murderous gleam, and I bite back a laugh.

"The dog thing again? Why don't you get one, Belle? You've been talking about getting a pet forever."

Belle's eyes turn sad. "Still living with my parents. They don't like animals."

She blinks and shakes her head, clearly trying to dispel her melancholy. Belle is the kindest, most down-to-earth person I know, despite her privileged upbringing. She doesn't talk about her family a lot, but I have a feeling they have her on a tight leash and deep down, she's very lonely in that large mansion of hers.

"I mean, Belle has a point there. You're studying abroad in a way. It's the perfect time to be in a casual fling," Grace comments.

Taylor scoffs. "You're one to give advice. You don't date either."

"Neither do you!"

"All of us are going to die as spinsters. When we're old and wrinkly, we can buy a big house with a nice garden and live together with fifty cats and a few dogs," Belle drawls, her lips twitching in humor. "And maybe…we can also adopt some children and raise our own family. I've always liked kids." Her voice turns soft at the end, the smile now seeming a little more forced on her face.

I furrow my brows, wanting to ask her about the loneliness in her eyes, but she smiles and gives me a wink. Maybe I'm thinking too much.

"No distractions. No men. Not right now," I repeat. Too much is at stake. "I need to focus my energy on class and applying to the honors program. Less than point five percent of the applicants get in. My grades must be excellent, my resume stellar, and my reputation spotless, if I even want a shot of getting in. There's no time for unreliable men."

Who'll probably want me because I'd be a steppingstone to get to Adrian.

No, thank you.

"Ugh. No fun," Taylor grumbles.

"But hey, Millie." Belle snaps her fingers to get my attention. "If anyone can do it, it'll be you. Remember what you told me? ‘The best way to predict your future is to create it.' That's what you're doing now." She gives me a saucy wink.

I smile, the strange unease from earlier today almost dissipating.

Almost.

A pair of haunted stormy eyes floats to the forefront, and my chest clenches.