Chapter 2My Brother’s Wrath

I knew my reputation at school was terrible. So terrible that it must have taken a monumental effort for popular guys like Robby and the others to convince this many people to come to my birthday party.

From the moment they stepped into my home, they all collectively ignored me, treating the event like any other college mixer. Not a single person had wished me a happy birthday. Not one gift had been offered.

But I didn’t really care.

I walked right up to the handsome new lecturer and held out my hand, my tone more of a command than a request. “Tell me your name. Then, ask me to dance.”

The man looked surprised. His eyes widened slightly, and the small, crimson mole near the corner of his eye peeked out from behind the silver frame of his glasses. It gave him an unexpectedly playful look.

All around us, conversations faltered as people started to watch. I thought, with a strange sense of detachment, that if he refused, it would be the perfect excuse to have a meltdown and throw every single person out of my house. I never considered the possibility that he would accept. Tonight was Ian’s grand performance, designed to push me over the edge. They had ignored me, isolated me. Why would they arrange for anyone to be kind to me?

But I was wrong. This man was the one exception to their cruel script.

He suddenly smiled, and his eyes were incredibly gentle. He took my hand, which had been left hanging awkwardly in the air.

“My name is Kian Archer.” His voice was warm. “Happy birthday, Nina.”

It was like being pricked by a needle. I snatched my hand back. But when I opened my palm, it wasn’t some practical joke. It was a small, exquisitely wrapped gift box.

His words, free of any malice, finally registered.

Stunned, I looked up at him, my heart suddenly racing, my throat tight. I was utterly lost.

Kian didn’t seem bothered by my hostile reaction. He simply extended his hand again, his voice even softer. “If you’d like, may I have this dance?”

I was the one who had tried to force him, yet he was acting as if it were his pleasure. His hand was elegant, his gesture perfectly chivalrous. Behind the thin lenses of his glasses, his light-colored eyes were filled with a soft, patient amusement, as if it wouldn’t matter at all if I played another game or rejected him again.

I met his gaze for a long moment. Or maybe it was just a second.

Finally, I raised my hand.

Just as his fingers were about to close around mine, a loud crash echoed from across the room. Someone gasped.

I instinctively turned to look.

Ian, who had somehow ended up standing very close to me, was once again holding the housekeeper by the waist to steady her from yet another “fall.” After seeing her act this out multiple times, I finally dredged up her name.

Rosie.

Her mother was my live-in housekeeper. She’d been hired to take care of me when my brother was still alive. A few years ago, without my permission, she’d brought her daughter to live with us. When I found out, she begged me to let Rosie stay and help out. For her mother’s sake, I’d agreed.

Until tonight, Rosie had always kept her head down. I’d barely even noticed her. But this relentless campaign for attention was making her impossible to ignore.

“I’m so sorry! Everyone, I’m so sorry! I’ll clean this up right away…” Rosie’s face was crimson with shame as she bowed apologetically. She then knelt down and began to pick up the shards of broken glass.

Ian quickly grabbed her hand. “Don’t use your hands,” he said softly. “You’ll cut yourself.”

Rosie looked up at him, her eyes shining, and nodded obediently.

I watched the scene unfold, my face impassive. And then I noticed something.

My eyes narrowed, fixing on Rosie. “Why are you wearing my dress?”