June folds her arms with a sigh. “My academic advisor called me into the office yesterday and told me that my ‘failure to participate in community activities could lead to my scholarship being revoked,’” she says, making air quotes. “I can’t afford the tuition, so here I am, despite the fact that I was never told about this.”
“I was accused of cheating. Well, not me, but helping the guy next to me do it.”
“Seriously?”
I nod. “Yeah. I’m here to exemplify a model student.”
“Join the club. Do you know what we’re supposed to do exactly?”
“Not a fucking clue. The email I got from Professor Ames was short and didn’t tell me anything important other than the date, time, and what to wear.”
June purses her lips. “Honestly, this is the biggest load of bullshit. I don’t get how us attending a fraternity’s initiation ceremony makes any difference.”
I open my mouth to respond, then promptly shut it when the door opens. Another young woman, clearly a student like us, walks into the room. Her hair is a dark brown, but her eyes hold the same apprehension as ours.
It takes me a moment to recognize her. An image of her adjusting her clothing before she chases after a disheveled Xavier fills my mind. A rush of heat sweeps over my cheeks before I can stop it. Jealousy, an unwelcome intruder, wraps its fingers around my heart and squeezes.
I stare at the young woman while reminding myself that I’m not interested in Xavier. Never mind the fact that he’s a grown man and free to sleep with whoever he wants. It’s not like him saving my life means I’m indebted to him or that I’ve stopped being pissed at him for keeping secrets about Ben.
Even with that logic running through my mind, I find myself studying her features, trying to understand what he sees in her. In comparison, her clothing is better quality, and she carries an air of sophistication I can never replicate. Maybe she’s his girlfriend and one of the reasons he keeps telling me to stay away from him.
“Hi,” she says with a tiny wave, bringing me out of my grim thoughts. “I’m Brenda. You guys here for the ceremony?”
“Yes,” June says. “I’m June, and this is Delilah.”
Brenda comes to stand beside us, wringing her hands. “This place is wild. They don’t allow anyone on the property, let alone inside. It’s crazy that they want us here to begin with. My roommate is super jealous.”
“It doesn’t add up,” June says. “I’m saying that as a woman and as a math genius.”
I nod. “Agreed.”
That is what’s been bothering me since I received the email from Professor Ames. Nothing about me being here makes any sense. My presence should have no bearing on the proceedings, yet there’s three of us standing in this room.
The doors open, and I jerk my head in that direction. My gaze lands on a middle-aged woman as she strides into the space with a commanding air. Dressed in a gown that combines opulence with a hint of sensuality, she wears a navy-colored fabric that clings to her body. Her chestnut hair has been swept up into a bun atop her head, and there are artfully arranged curls framing her face.
She stops two feet from our group and claps her hands sharply. “All of you need to remove your clothes. Now.”
Chapter 24DELILAH
“Listen,” I say, “it’s more likely that tiny cherubs will fly out of my ass before I take this dress off.”
June nods. “Same, but not cherubs. I’m going with oranges. It’s a healthier option.”
Mrs. Emerson lifts a brow, clearly not amused. “I don’t have time for your antics. The Order has charged me with the task of preparing you for the ceremony. I haven’t been late in my duties for over a decade, and I’m not about to start now.”
I look to June, not bothering to hide the shock that has to be written all over my face. Mrs. Emerson’s authoritative tone leaves no room for negotiation, but that’s not what has fear coiling in my gut. It’s the fact that this ceremony has been taking place for over a decade. At least.
“Look, lady,” June says, “I signed up to participate in a community event, not a nudist colony.”
Nervous laughter bubbles up in my throat and I stifle it. My discomfort over this turn of events is like champagne, making me drunk on fear.
The older woman tilts her head, her expression unfazed. “Your concerns are duly noted. However, let me be perfectly clear. You signed a contract. A legally binding one that will have you stripped of your academic funding if you refuse to follow through with your obligations.”
“You can’t do this,” Brenda says. Her voice takes on a higher pitch, filled with hysteria. “I never would’ve signed if I’d known you were going to ask me to participate while naked.”
“You won’t be nude, silly girl,” Mrs. Emerson says. “You are going to wear the proper ceremonial clothing.”
She walks over to a large armoire and pulls open the door. Inside are several white gowns. The woman selects one and holds it out from her body, her gaze darting to me.
It’s a wedding dress.
“I think this is your size.” When I don’t move to retrieve it, she thrusts it in my direction. “All you have to do is put it on. Before the event starts, you will be given a chance to get out of your contractual obligation, but until then you have to be dressed in the appropriate attire.”
A heavy silence drapes over the room like a velvet curtain, suffocating me. I drop my gaze, unable to look at June as I give into the demands weighing on my shoulders and take a step forward. This might be just a scholarship to some people, but to me it’s my entire life.
When June and Brenda also take the dresses handed to them by Mrs. Emerson, I highly suspect I’m not the only one who has much to lose.
I inhale a deep breath before removing my silver dress. The rustling of fabric echoes throughout the room as each of us complies with the unusual directive. Mrs. Emerson’s gaze stays locked on us, completely unaffected by our distress and discomfort.
The cool, pale material slides over my skin like a gentle breeze. Intricate lace patterns cascade along my arms and down my entire back, leaving me feeling exposed. The skirt only billows out slightly, providing enough room for me to walk comfortably, but still clings to my hips in an enticing manner.
“The removal of your old clothes is symbolic,” Mrs. Emerson says. “It represents you shedding your preconceived notions about control and embracing the Order’s authority over you.”
I grip handfuls of my skirt and yank on them. “Why a wedding dress? That’s pretty fucking specific.”
“You’re a bride.” When my eyes nearly pop out of my head, she waves a hand in dismissal. “Relax. The only contract you’re fulfilling is the one you signed, not a contract of marriage.”
“Let me guess,” June says, folding her arms, “the wedding dress is symbolic?”
The older woman nods. “However, not in the way you think. Yes, it’s associated with loyalty, in the way a bride must remain faithful to her husband. But it also represents the power the recruit has over you. If he claims you, he will be your master, and you will be his property.”
I make a choking noise before throwing up my hands. “I’m out, like a vegan at a fucking barbecue.”
“Same.” June marches behind me. “No scholarship is worth this shit.”
“Failure to fulfill your duties doesn’t just have repercussions within these walls.”