Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 116875 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 584(@200wpm)___ 468(@250wpm)___ 390(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116875 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 584(@200wpm)___ 468(@250wpm)___ 390(@300wpm)
“I’m here to sign this.” He holds up a sheaf of papers I didn’t notice in his hands. “A marriage contract between me and you.”
What?
I stare at the papers. The printed words blur together. I’m too shocked to focus enough to read what he’s showing me.
But I can read the satisfaction radiating off of him as he continues, “The deal is done. You’re going to be my wife.”
1
Two weeks earlier…
* * *
Bella
* * *
In the year of our Lord 2025, I decided to embrace my destiny and become a supervillain.
Step one: enroll in Unitas University. These beautiful, hallowed halls spawn the worst of the worst. And I look forward to becoming one of the best.
The best of the worst. Ha.
Unitas University is the most exclusive college you’ve never heard of. Most of the world doesn’t know what goes on behind these walls. The alumnae keep its secrets well-hidden.
The college doesn’t do any recruiting. It doesn’t need to. In some circles in New Rome and Metropolis, it’s the only college worth attending. All the big mafia families send their children here and have for over five generations.
Most of the students are legacies, but a few of us who aren’t slip through the cracks.
I’m one of them. A crack-slipper-inner. Or whatever. Pretty supervillain of me to infiltrate a criminal spawning zone, right?
I’m cackling as I skip past the gorgeous fountain at the university entrance, on my way to orientation. It’s late summer and the air is heavy with heat and humidity. In the sunny beds outside the main administration building, the bees are browsing over the cone flowers and bergamot. I wave to them and trot up the steps.
According to my research, most colleges have a welcome week. Unitas is slightly different. Non-legacy first years are invited to move in early June in order to take a semester-long orientation class that will teach them about Unitas’s unique academic environment.
It’s perfect, since I’ve been homeschooled for the past couple of years. My only experience of high school comes from binge-watching Vampire Varsity, my favorite show. Papa and I decided that this orientation would help me acclimate, so I moved from our city home into an ivy-covered house within walking distance from campus.
So here I am, bright and early for orientation, carrying a box of cronuts fresh from the bakery. I pause before the white columns of the Greek Revival building. It’s so grand, I feel transported to another time.
This place is awesome!
But I also feel like someone is watching me. I turn and scan the line of hundred-year-old oak trees, but other than a few students and robe-wearing professors hurrying down the paths, there’s no one around. Everyone’s focused on their destination or their cell phones. No one is watching me.
I must be imagining things.
I head inside the admin building, where it’s blissfully cool, and my sneakers squeak on the marble floor.
I slow down and try to stuff down my excitement. The hall is full of students like me. Which is perfect for my plans. No, I’m not about to go supervillain on these poor defenseless first years. Today, unlocking full-blown villain status will have to wait because I have another goal in mind.
I’m going to make a friend.
I pick up my welcome packet, find a seat to dump it and my pink backpack, and survey the room. Who are my prospects?
There’s a group of young women in the corner. They’re a bit preppy in white tennis skirts and pink tops.
I like pink. I wouldn’t pair athleisure attire with a pearl necklace the way all these women have, but I’m willing to overlook a few flaws in a potential friend.
I grab my box of cronuts and head over there, holding the pastries as bait.
“Hi,” I say to the nearest one. She’s tall and thin with warm brown skin and perfectly glossy black hair. A huge tennis bracelet sparkles on her wrist. She glances at me as I launch into my spiel.
“I’m Bella. I’m starting school here in the fall. Would you like a cronut?”
“Ugh, no,” she wrinkles her nose like I offered her a box of dog poop. “I’m off carbs.”
“Me too,” adds a pale brunette across from her. The rest of the women look at me with disgust. Then the dark-haired beauty turns her back, blocking me out.
I can hear them murmuring about me. After a moment, they start laughing. The tips of my ears heat, but I keep cool. Guess I’ve just met some mean girls, like the cheerleader ghouls in Vampire Varsity.
That’s okay. Onward!
I move away, heading toward the back of the room. There’s something beyond this room that looks a little like a library. Before I can enter, a college employee blocks the way and shakes his head at me. “No food in the reading room.” Okay, denied again.
I find myself near a grand arched window. A young woman stands there, bathed in sunlight. She looks spotlit from above, as if the hosts of heaven have conspired to be her lighting team, her hair set in perfect curls that frame her lovely profile.