The Lamborghini purred to a halt before the looming gates of Melton College. Students crowded the iron archway, laughter and chatter spilling into the morning air. When the convoy rolled in, the noise hushed.
Every head turned.
Jenna’s pulse hammered against her ribs. Her fingers twisted her skirt, but she forced her face into calm perfection, the mask of Aria.
“Miss Aria,” the driver said again, glancing back. “We’ve arrived.”
Her throat tightened. She nodded once, the motion crisp, regal like Iris whispered in her mind.
The door swung open.
She stepped out, the sun catching the gloss of her hair, the uniform hugging her figure like it had been stitched for her alone. A ripple went through the crowd.
“Is that…?”
“Alpha Desmond’s daughter.”
“She’s even prettier than the rumors.”
