HATE ME, HEAL ME

### Chapter One — Amore Violet The problem with stalking someone was that it required a lot more physical effort than people gave it credit for. For starters, hiding under a bleacher for almost an hour wasn't exactly a position my body had agreed to maintain. My left leg had gone numb, my back was threatening to file a formal complaint, and I was beginning to question whether Adrian was worth the loss of blood circulation. Then he moved. And just like that, I forgot about my leg. Adrian was still on the ice with Nickolas, his hockey stick in hand as he sent the puck across the rink. Nickolas said something I couldn't hear, and Adrian laughed. I narrowed my eyes. He had a nice laugh. Annoyingly nice. I shifted closer to the edge of the bleachers, careful not to make a sound. One more look wouldn't hurt. That was what I had told myself forty minutes ago. And here I was, still watching him like a woman who had paid for front-row seats to a show nobody had invited her to. In my defense, I wasn't that obsessed. I simply had an important reason for being here. A very important reason. One that had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that Adrian looked ridiculously good skating around the rink. Nothing. At all. Nickolas passed him the puck, and Adrian took the shot. The puck hit the net. I nearly clapped. Nearly. Because I had enough self-control to know that cheering from underneath the bleachers would ruin the entire point of hiding. Besides, I wasn't here to admire him. I was here because I needed something from him. Something that had nothing to do with my scholarship. I already had that. Getting into Amore University had been the easy part. Well, easy was a generous word considering it had taken three applications, but at least that particular battle was over. Amore itself was another matter. People liked to call it a university, which wasn't wrong. It had lecture halls, laboratories, professors, students, and enough academic pressure to make a person reconsider every decision that had led them there. But Amore was also an organization. A very powerful one. The university was only one part of something much larger, something built around influence, connections, and families whose names could open doors before they even knocked. And the Moreus were one of those families. Which brought me back to Adrian. My ticket. Not literally, obviously. I wasn't planning to pin him to a wall and demand he hand over a membership card. I simply needed him to let me into his world. His family. His circle. And preferably without asking too many questions about why I wanted to be there. That last part might prove difficult. Especially considering I was currently hiding under a bleacher like a criminal with absolutely no criminal instincts. Nickolas said something again, but this time Adrian didn't laugh. He just shook his head, looking down at the puck before skating toward the other side of the rink. I sighed. Not because I was bored. Okay, maybe a little. I had been sitting under these bleachers for almost an hour, and if I came out of here with a permanent bend in my spine, I was blaming him. Well, not him exactly. The idea of him. There was a difference. At least that's what I kept telling myself. Oh. Finally, I straightened up, my heart doing a little jump. Not because Adrian was about to be alone. I mean, that was exactly why my heart was doing a little jump, but that wasn't the point. The point was that I could finally get what I came for. Nickolas waved at Adrian before leaving the rink. I waited. One minute. Two. Three. Why was he still standing there? I leaned forward slightly, trying to get a better view. And then I heard it. "Are you planning on coming out, or should I wait until tomorrow?" My entire body froze. Oh. Oh, no. He knew. I slowly pulled my head back beneath the bleachers. Maybe he wasn't talking to me. Maybe there was another girl hiding under the bleachers. A more reasonable girl. A girl who had better plans for her afternoon. "You're not very good at hiding." I closed my eyes. Well, at least he was honest. "Come out." My heartbeat picked up. How? How the hell did he know I'd been here for almost an hour? I hadn't made a sound. Okay, maybe I had made a few sounds. My leg had cramped twice, and I may have whispered a very offensive word at the bleachers, but that was hardly enough evidence to convict me. I took a breath and crawled out. Slowly. With whatever dignity I had left. Adrian was standing a few feet away, his hockey stick resting against his shoulder. His helmet was off, and his hair was slightly damp from practice. I hated that I noticed. I hated even more that he noticed me noticing. His eyes moved over me. Then down to the jersey I was wearing. Then back to my face. "Hi," I said. Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant. After almost an hour of spying on a man, the first thing I said was hi. His expression didn't change. "Hi." I smiled. He didn't. Okay. Tough crowd. "I was just watching you practice." "Yeah. I figured." My smile faltered. Right. Of course he figured. "You're a fan?" I nodded immediately. Too soon. "Yes." He looked at me for a moment. Then he asked, "What's my jersey number?" I blinked. Oh. That was easy. I looked down at my jersey. Ten. Obviously. "Ten." Silence. I smiled a little wider. Because surely that was the right answer. Adrian's face changed. Just enough for the small amount of amusement he'd had to disappear. "Seven." My smile died. Oh. Oh, my God. The thrift shop. The f*****g thrift shop had sold me the wrong jersey. I wanted to turn around and personally demand my money back. Instead, I stood there, wearing the evidence of my stupidity. Adrian glanced at the number on my chest again. Then he looked at me. And this time, he wasn't looking at me like a fan. He was looking at me like I was something he had found on the bottom of his shoe. My stomach dropped. "Who are you?" he asked. I swallowed. "And what do you want?" There were probably a thousand ways I could have answered that question without sounding like a complete i***t. Unfortunately, my brain decided to take a lunch break. "I want to get into Amore." He stared at me. I stared back. Well, this was going great. "Excuse me?" "Amore." I pointed at myself. "I want to be part of it." For a second, he said nothing. Then he laughed. Not the cute laugh I'd been watching from beneath the bleachers. This one was different. Like I'd just told him I wanted to buy the entire organization. "You're serious?" "Do I look like I'm joking?" He looked at the jersey I was wearing. "Honestly? I don't know what you look like." I ignored that. "I know how Amore works. I know who runs things, and I know that having the right connections makes a difference." His expression shifted. Only slightly. But I noticed. "Do you?" "Yes." "Interesting." There was something about the way he said it that made me wish I'd rehearsed this conversation. Actually, I had rehearsed it. Several times. Unfortunately, none of those rehearsals had involved Adrian looking at me like he was trying to solve a particularly unpleasant mathematical problem. "I just need someone to show me around," I added. "Someone?" "Someone who knows the place." "And you decided that someone should be me?" I smiled. "You're catching on." He didn't smile back. For a moment, his eyes stayed on mine. Then he asked, "Why?" One word. One very inconvenient word. I could have said I admired him. I could have said I wanted to make friends. I could have said literally anything that didn't sound like the beginning of a criminal investigation. Instead, I shrugged. "Why not?" His expression remained unreadable. Then he looked away, letting out a short breath that wasn't quite a laugh. "Get out of here, Violet." My heart stopped. I hadn't told him my name.