Blackwood University's "Alpha" dorms weren't dorms; they were luxury suites. As Elena stood in front of Room 101, she felt like an intruder. She smoothed down her jeans, took a steadying breath, and knocked.
The door swung open instantly.
Julian stood there, but he had shed the black coat and formal shirt. He was in a simple grey t-shirt that clung to his shoulders and cotton joggers. He looked younger, softer, and infinitely more dangerous.
"You're three minutes late," he said, stepping back to let her in.
"The bus was slow," she lied. She'd actually spent those three minutes outside trying to stop her hands from shaking.
The suite was minimalist—glass, steel, and a view of the campus that screamed old money. On the glass coffee table, Julian had already laid out three high-end tablets and a stack of financial reports.
"Sit," he commanded, gesturing to the leather sofa.
Elena sat on the very edge. Julian sat beside her—not across, but beside—close enough that his thigh almost brushed hers. He opened a file, his scent of expensive soap and sea salt filling her senses.
"We're analyzing the acquisition of Vanguard Tech," he started, his voice professional, though his eyes remained cold. "I've already done the preliminary SWOT analysis. You just need to—"
"No."
Julian paused, his pen hovering over the screen. "No?"
"I'm not your secretary, Julian," Elena said, turning to face him. "I read the syllabus too. This is a collaborative project. I'm doing the market research and the ethics audit. You do the financials."
Julian let out a dry, humorless laugh. "Ethics? This is business, Elena. Ethics are for people who can't afford to win."
"And that's exactly why your family's firm is under three different federal investigations right now," she shot back.
The air in the room curdled. Julian's expression shifted from arrogant to lethal. He dropped the tablet and leaned in, his arm draped across the back of the sofa behind her head, effectively pinning her in place.
"You think you're so much better than me, don't you?" he hissed. "Coming here with your moral high ground and your thrift-store clothes. You took the money, Elena. You're just as bought-and-paid-for as the rest of us."
"I told you, I gave it back!" Elena cried, her voice cracking. "Your father's assistant met me at the station. I handed him the check and told him I didn't want a cent of Blackwood blood money."
Julian's eyes narrowed into slits. "Liar. My father showed me the cancelled check. It had your signature on the back."
"Then he forged it!" She was shouting now, the frustration of five years of silence finally boiling over. "He told me you didn't want to see me! He told me you said I was a 'summer distraction' that had become an 'annoying liability'!"
Julian froze. His gaze searched hers, looking for the tell-tale flicker of a lie. For a heartbeat, the mask of the "Ice Prince" cracked, revealing a glimpse of the boy who had once loved her.
"I never said that," he whispered, his voice dangerously low.
"And I never spent that money," she whispered back, her breath hitching.
They were inches apart. The hate was there, thick and suffocating, but beneath it was the undeniable pull of a history that hadn't been resolved. Julian's gaze dropped to her mouth. His hand, previously resting on the sofa, moved to her neck, his thumb grazing her jawline. The touch was electric, a searing contrast to his cold words.
"If you're lying to me again..." he muttered, his thumb pressing a little harder against her skin, "I'll make sure you never leave this campus."
"Is that a threat or a promise?" Elena challenged, her heart drumming a frantic rhythm against her ribs.
The tension snapped. Julian leaned in, his lips a breath away from hers, but just as the distance was about to vanish, his phone buzzed violently on the table.
Caller ID: Father.
The name on the screen acted like a bucket of ice water. Julian pulled away instantly, his face hardening into a mask of granite. He stood up, putting several feet of distance between them.
"Get out," he said, his voice flat.
"Julian—"
"I said get out, Elena! We're done for tonight." He didn't look at her. He picked up the phone, his hand trembling slightly. "Hello, Father."
Elena didn't wait. She grabbed her bag and bolted. She didn't stop running until she reached the cold night air of the quad. Her neck still burned where he had touched her.
She had come for a degree. But she was realizing that the "Hate" between them was just "Love" that had been set on fire—and she was the one getting burned.