Freya Arsov sits on top of a world of diamonds and sports cars. Her father is a billionaire, head of a world-renown company, her mother, an esteemed lawyer. She attends the most prestigious boarding school in England. She has four amazing best frien...
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MATTHEW HAD LISTENED TO HER.
Nearly a month had passed since she'd spoken to him.
The autumn was a thing of the past, overtaken by the looming winter.
The days were colder, thus the coats thrown over Arrowsmith uniforms got thicker, with heavier price tags attached to them. The night came sooner. By the time classes were over, the sun was setting. Thus, the days became shorter and the nights became longer.
Usually, the students of Arrowsmith took advantage of this, hosting dorm parties all from November into December, with plenty of liquor to keep warm. But since the events of Cyan Hall at the start of the term, the parties were scaled down. Freya certainly had no intention of attending any.
And if she happened to forget the season, she was reminded by the constant chattering amongst classmates about the Winter Ball.
I already ordered my dress from Paris.
Do you think Chad will ask me to be his date?
Apparently, the school decided they'd like to expand the already vast library, and was hosting a fundraising ball towards the end of the term.
The softness of the autumn had faded into a sharp-edged winter and Freya felt its unforgiving stab every time she found herself thinking about a certain pair of golden eyes.
In this month, Freya had mastered the art of ignoring everything which might hurt her. She knew this was not a good plan, for she would eventually have to confront Karsyn's worried eyes and her mother's knowledge about her past plans for Andre Kirova. She knew she was going to feel the hurt eventually, but if she ignored it, she frailly hoped, maybe it'd go away.
However, that did not seem to be the case with Matthew al Nassar. It had been twenty-eight days since they'd last spoken. She'd counted them.
But in those twenty-eight days, Matthew had not gotten the memo, for he was still trekking along the halls of Arrowsmith, still wearing the dumb uniform, still going to classes, still here.
As for Anakin Graves, Freya had not seen him since that day in the little kitchen in the warehouse. Raina had been rather remote since, eyes never meeting hers when they were together, a frown always pulling at her lips when she thought no one noticed. Freya did not have enough strength in her to confront Raina yet about the one thousand and one things that she had to.
She tried to forget all she knew about him. And about Anakin. About Kirova. About seeing Arin al Hassan that night. But her memory had always been sharp.
She told herself she didn't care about Kirova's business anymore. She'd lost the game, after all.
She was startled from her drifting thoughts by Julian. He was waving a palm before her eyes.
