STERLING HEIRS

Forced proximity (Adunni's POV)

Episode 11

I didn't scream.

In those breathless seconds in the dark alcove, with Cole’s flashlight cutting through the gloom and Keiran’s lips close enough to graze mine, I had simply tilted my chin up. I didn't give Keiran the satisfaction of a panicked cry, nor did I call for Cole to rescue me. Instead, when the beam of light finally swept over us, it revealed Keiran casually leaning against the wall, and me standing a deliberate foot away, smoothing down the wrinkled silk of my emerald dress.

The look on Cole’s face when the light illuminated us was something I wouldn't soon forget—a flash of pure, unadulterated betrayal directed at his best friend, followed by a quiet, simmering anger.

No words were exchanged. The campus security guards had restored the power a minute later, and under the bright, glaring lights of the Grand Atrium, the spell broke. I walked back to my dorm with Maya in silence.

But the silence didn't last.

The next morning, the humid Seattle mist hung low over the gothic stone walls of the academy. My body ached from a lack of sleep, my mind replaying Keiran’s low, predatory voice over and over again. “I'm already in the den.”

"Are you sure you're ready for this?" Maya asked nervously as we climbed the concrete steps of the academic block. She was clutching her textbook to her chest like a shield. "Advanced Honors Economics. After what you said to Christina last night at the Gala..."

"I have a perfect score in geography and marketing from back home, Maya," I replied, my voice steady despite the flutter in my stomach. "A classroom is the one place where numbers matter more than family names. I won't be intimidated."

We walked into Room 204. It was a steep, amphitheater-style lecture hall with tiered mahogany desks. The atmosphere was already suffocatingly tense.

Christina Vance was already seated in the second row, surrounded by Chloe and Chloe B. The moment I stepped through the door, her eyes locked onto me. If looks could kill, I would have been buried beneath the floorboards. She whispered something to her minions who immediately let out a loud, mocking snicker.

I ignored them, walking up to the back rows where the scholarship students usually clustered. But as I reached the middle tier, a tall, imposing figure blocked the aisle.

Keiran Voss.

He was leaning back against a desk, his uniform jacket slung carelessly over one shoulder, his white dress shirt open at the collar just like the night before. His stormy grey eyes tracked me as I approached, a slow, lazy smirk spreading across his face. He didn't say a word, but his gaze dropped deliberately to my lips, reminding me exactly of how close we had been in the dark.

My pulse spiked, a sudden wave of heat rushing up my neck. I forced myself to look away, scanning the room for an empty seat.

"Adunni. Over here."

I looked down. In the front row, sitting directly in the center, was Cole Ashford. He looked impeccably neat in his charcoal-and-gold uniform, a thick leather binder open before him. He was tapping the empty wooden chair right next to him.

The entire lecture hall went dead silent. Sitting next to an Ashford in a lecture hall was a status symbol people fought over for semesters.

"Go," Maya whispered, gently nudging my elbow. "If you sit with Cole, Christina won't dare trip you during the lecture."

I swallowed hard. Taking that seat meant accepting Cole's public protection. It meant telling the entire school whose side I was on. But looking back at Keiran’s mocking smirk, and seeing Christina’s venomous glare, I realized I needed a strategic position.

I walked down the steps and slid into the chair next to Cole.

"Morning," Cole said softly, his voice for my ears only. The icy demeanor he usually wore completely melted as he looked at me, his blue eyes searching my face. "Did you sleep well?"

"Not particularly," I murmured, pulling out my notebook.

"If anyone bothers you today, tell me," he whispered, his hand resting on the desk between us. His fingers brushed against mine—a brief, accidental contact that felt like liquid fire. I pulled my hand back slightly, but the intense, protective warmth in his gaze held me captive. "I mean it, Adunni. You don't have to fight them alone."

Before I could answer, the heavy front doors banged open.

Professor Vance walked in. He was a sharp, gray-haired man with an intimidating stature and eyes like flint. He slammed his briefcase onto the podium, his gaze sweeping over the tiered room like a hawk looking for a weak link. His eyes lingered on me for a long, heavy second—instantly recognizing the freshman scholarship student his daughter had been furiously complaining about all morning.

"Welcome to Advanced Honors Economics," Professor Vance announced, his voice booming. "In this room, your parents' bank accounts do not calculate graphs. Only intellect does. Let’s see who actually prepared for today."

He turned to the whiteboard, drawing a complex supply-and-demand curve with multiple shifting variables representing international trade tariffs.

"Who can explain the mathematical equilibrium shift if the import tariff on foreign steel increases by 12% under a closed-market deficit?" the professor asked, turning back around with a predatory smile.

The room went completely still. Students lowered their heads. Even Christina looked down at her polished nails, refusing to catch her father's eye.

"Nobody?" Professor Vance scoffed, his eyes scanning the rows until they landed squarely on me. A challenging glint entered his eyes. "Well, Miss Bello. Your name managed to reach my desk before you even set foot in my lecture hall. Let's see if your intellect can actually match the sudden noise you've made on this campus. Answer the question."

I stood up slowly, my spine straight.

"The equilibrium wouldn't just shift, Professor," I spoke up, my smooth Nigerian cadence cutting through the silence of Room 204. "It would fracture. Because under a closed-market deficit, a 12% tariff forces domestic production to overcompensate without the infrastructure to support it. The supply curve drops sharply to the left, causing an artificial inflation of price before the market can stabilize."

Professor Vance stared at me, his eyes narrowing. The silence in the room was deafening.

Beside me, I could feel Cole staring up at me, a brilliant, proud smile breaking across his handsome face. From the middle rows, I heard Keiran let out a low, amused chuckle.

Professor Vance walked out from behind the podium, his expression unreadable. "An exceptional analysis, Miss Bello. It seems the rumors about your raw aptitude weren't exaggerated. You possess a rare mind."

He stepped closer to the front row, leaning against Cole’s desk, his eyes boring into mine. "But theory is easy. Let's see how you handle real-world pressure. For your mid-term project, you will be required to analyze a live corporate portfolio. And since you understand the market so well, you will be partnering with the two largest stakeholders in this institution."

The professor looked between Cole and me, then raised his eyes to the middle tier.

"Miss Bello, you will be partnering with Mr. Ashford and Mr. Voss. I expect a three-hundred-page economic forecast on my desk by the end of the month. Do not disappoint me."

My heart stopped.

I looked at Cole, whose jaw had gone completely slack. I turned around and looked up at the middle tier. Keiran was leaning forward now, his stormy grey eyes locked onto mine, his smirk widening into something dark, relentless, and thoroughly victorious.

I was trapped. Forced into a room, for hours on end, with the golden heir who wanted to shield me, and the mafia prince who wanted to break me.