Page 8 of Bite Me

What could he possibly want from me?

Chapter Four

Emma

Central Lawn. 8 p.m. Don’t bring anyone. Oh, and wear something nice.

Dacre has nice handwriting. That thought keeps coming up every time I glance back at the letter, and that only adds to the annoyance I feel for giving Dacre any form of a compliment.

He’s never been nice to me. Our only interactions have been him seeing me in passing and finding something to sneer or jab at me with when I have the audacity to be in his face or ask him anything about the culinary club. Just being in his space seems to aggravate him, and I’ve given up on trying to decode why. The most likely answer is the usual reason: a lot of people at the top are miserable, and Dacre’s no exception. For someone who has everything I want, he appears perpetually bored and miserable all day.

And yet, here I am, in heels and a dress, just as that asshole requested. It’s mostly for me. When else am I going to get the opportunity to dress up on a weekday evening? Plus, whatever awaits me, I’d rather look pretty doing it.

I step out onto the Central Lawn, which stretches far in front of the castle. Since it’s after dark on a class day, the campus is sparse. There’s a pink crescent moon sitting bright in the sky, but the other moon is completely covered by clouds. I only get glimpses of a few faint stars, which adds to the general gloom and loneliness. The nights are getting colder, and I hug my arms around my body against the chill.

A jacket, though practical, would have ruined this outfit.

“Emma Osborne?” An older woman with long salt-and-pepper hair stands next to the castle door. She’s dressed in slacks and a blazer, with her hands behind her back in a relaxed stance.

“That’s me.”

“My name is Marjorie. I work for the Everharts. Mr. Dacre Everhart has sent me here to escort you.”

“Escort me where?”

“I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to say.”

The letter didn’t say we’d be going anywhere. That familiar prickle of curiosity is enough for me to nod and follow her down the path to a clearing in the trees.

“Do you know why he wants to see me?”

“Mr. Everhart only told me he had business with you tonight.” She offers a calm, reassuring smile and not much else as she motions for me to follow her. I don’t have any complaints as we cross the campus to where a limo is waiting.

I turn back toward the castle, knowing this is my last chance to run. But on the other side of that door, I might find exactly what I need. I’ll be one step closer to getting into the culinary club, and that’s all that matters.

What’s the worst that could happen?

The door slamming makes me jolt as I step out of the limo. The drive was short, which means we must be just outside the gate of Doxlothia. A mansion looms up the driveway, with a warm light that stretches over the lawn. As big as it is, it’s dwarfed by the castle lights in the distance.

I make my way through the pillared front steps and across the threshold. This might be a bad idea. I didn’t tell anyone where I was going. Olivia will kill me when she finds out, and that’s why I couldn’t tell her.

This isn’t the first time I’ve found myself in a situation like this. I’m the only one of my three sisters who ever got grounded growing up. My dad calls me impulsive, but Mom called me adventurous. I prefer her explanation. Sometimes, it’s led me to places I most definitely shouldn’t have gone, like to our creepy neighbor’s shed to quell my imagination that he was a serial killer and that’s the reason he was always stuffing garbage bags in there. It was leaves, but that’s beside the point.

As I’m escorted through halls of black marble, the mystery of what awaits me is enough to make me press on. That, and answering all of my many questions. Is this Dacre’s house? Why make me meet him off campus instead of at the culinary lounge or in one of the various common rooms?

I have nothing to compare this house to. Not the size nor the shiny floors in which I can see my reflection. It’s dimly lit, with a fresh floral scent lingering in the hallways from huge bouquets of white roses.

A set of doors swings open, and Dacre sits in a suit at the end of a square table, waiting. The table is adorned with a crisp white linen tablecloth, and all the tableware I’d expect from someone in the culinary world. This must be his house . . . At least one that his family owns.

No smile touches his lips when he stands to greet me.

“I didn’t think you’d actually dress up.”

He’s never seen me in anything but my Luxxia House uniform, which is mostly skirts and sweaters in various shades of blue. So I went with my favorite color I never get to wear, a short light green dress with a princess skirt and off-the-shoulder ruffles.

I scoff. “Is this . . . a joke? Are you pranking me?”

“No. Please sit.”