Chapter 36: Prestige Medieval

Chapter 36: Prestige Medieval

Amelie and I had barely taken a few steps away from the athletic field when her phone chimed softly.

She paused, glancing down at the screen. A crisp, direct message flashed across her display.

Alexander: Fine. Send the location.

I recognized the name instantly. Apparently, the Elite students had already generated a shared group chat for our assigned unit, of which I’m the only one not among since my background don’t fit the requirements, which was how Alexander had managed to acquire Amelie’s direct contact info in the first place.

Amelie looked up from her screen, her brow furrowing slightly. "What’s the matter?" I asked, keeping my tone neutral.

"Nothing," she murmured. "Alexander wants the meeting location for tonight."

"Send him the address of my room," I replied without missing a beat.

She froze, blinking behind her glasses. "Your room?"

"Yes."

"What if they start blabbing about where you stay? You already have a hundred-million credit bounty on your head, do you want every aggressive scavenger on campus knocking on your door?" She questioned.

I stared at her for a long moment, a slow, unbothered grin spreading across my face. "Then I’ll know exactly who I can and cannot trust."

She stared back at me, clearly debating whether I had completely lost my mind, before letting out a soft sigh, shaking her head, and relaying the location coordinate to the group chat.

That evening, the heavy oak door of my residential suite clicked open as the rest of our unit arrived.

Christopher Goodman and Alexander Thorne immediately claimed the perimeter, using the walls as convenient props to lean against while maintaining as much physical distance from one another as possible.

The two girls naturally claimed my only sofa. Amelie settled into the sleek armrest of the chair, while Emma Bentley made herself entirely at home, sinking comfortably onto the edge of the sofa.

I remained seated at my desk, my laptop glowing softly in front of me.

"Now that everyone is actually here," Amelie began, taking charge with a crisp, authoritative tone, "let’s establish our division of labor and get this project moving."

Alexander glanced sideways at her, a mocking edge to his voice. "Wait. Are you seriously the group leader?"

"Unfortunately, yes," Amelie replied, her jaw tightening.

He let out a short, condescending laugh, though he didn’t press the issue further. Amelie picked up her iPad, swiping smoothly through her notes. "I’ve been reviewing the available campus venues. Most of the prime auditoriums and grand halls have already been booked by senior factions. There are only two left unclaimed, and they happen to be the most restrictive, budget-tier options on the registry."

She turned the screen toward us, displaying architectural blueprints of two aging, austere halls.

"We’re going to have to secure one of these."

Then I remembered I might know someone who is in the Imperial class and has been secretly stalking me, while she thinks I don’t know about it. "I’ll take care of the venue," I interjected smoothly, leaning back in my chair.

Amelie paused, her eyes snapping back to me. "You will?"

"I have connections."

Alexander scoffed loudly from the wall, rolling his eyes. "You poor bastard. What the hell do you know about real connections?"

Before I could fire back, Christopher Goodman shifted his weight off the wall, his expression deadpan. "Don’t underestimate him, Alex. For all you know, he’s significantly better connected than you are."

Alexander whipped his head around, shooting Christopher a venomous, murderous glare. Christopher simply averted his gaze, looking completely unbothered, as though he hadn’t just insulted one of the most volatile heirs in their class.

Clearing her throat, Amelie pushed forward. "Anyway. What about the Imperial Class? The self-proclaimed elite. We need high-profile attendees from their tier if we want this showcase to stand out and clear the grading rubric."

"I happen to know someone who can handle that variable for me," I replied calmly.

Amelie studied my face for a second, searching for any sign of bluffing, before giving a curt nod. "Fine. Emma, your objective is straightforward, leverage your influence. Promote the event across your network. You command a massive following, and if you hype it up properly, a significant portion of the student body will show up just to see you."

Emma smiled, a bright, rehearsed expression. "Consider it done. I can roll out a series of promotional posts and teaser clips by tomorrow morning."

"Good," Amelie said, tapping her screen. "Alexander and Christopher, you two will handle the physical transformation and decorations. I want the entire venue draped in a gothic, medieval aesthetic. Our chosen theme is Prestige Medieval, so I won’t accept anything that looks cheap, tacky, or out of place, I will handle any form of services and entertainment."

Christopher gave a small, agreeable nod. "Sounds like a fun challenge."

Alexander, however, pushed himself off the wall, his expression darkening into a sneer. "Just because I agreed to step foot in this room doesn’t mean you have the authority to boss me around, Amelie."

Amelie frowned, crossing her arms. "What are you talking about? We’re dividing responsibilities."

"I agreed to join the mandatory group roster, not to become your personal errand boy," Alexander snapped, his voice rising in arrogance. "Don’t expect me to run around hanging cheap banners or decorating some dusty hall."

Without waiting for a response, he turned sharply and strode toward the door, pulling it open.

"Alex!" Amelie called out, exasperated.

He didn’t even bother looking back.

Emma smoothly stood up from the sofa, smoothing down her skirt, and quickly followed after him, exiting the suite by his side.

Christopher lingered for a fraction of a second, offering Amelie a small, polite smile before walking toward the threshold. "See you later."

"Bye, Christopher," Amelie muttered.

I watched him go, narrowing my eyes slightly. There was a subtle, calculating undertone to the way Christopher had looked at Amelie just now, a faint, lingering smile that carried more familiarity than a simple group project warranted.

’Interesting.’

Once the heavy door sealed shut behind them, only Amelie and I remained in the quiet room.

She turned her chair to face my desk, letting out a frustrated breath. "So... how on earth do you actually plan on attracting Imperial Class students, Morales?"

"Wait for it."

"Is that seriously all you’re going to give me?"

A slow smile touched my lips. "For now."

She shook her head, a reluctant, amused smile breaking through her irritation. Standing up, she walked toward the exit. Before stepping out into the corridor, she cast one final, lingering glance in my direction.

I caught it instantly.

A faint, knowing smirk crossed my face as the door clicked shut behind her. I turned my attention back to my laptop screen, letting the silence settle over the room.

A few minutes ticked by in absolute quiet, until a sharp, distinct knock echoed against the wood. I pushed my chair back, stood up, and crossed the polished floor, pulling the door open.

Standing on the threshold, bathed in the cool corridor light, was Emma fucking Bentley.

I raised an eyebrow, leaning casually against the doorframe. "To what do I owe the pleasure, Emma?"

She offered a sweet, disarming smile. "I wanted to apologise."

"For what?"

"On behalf of my boyfriend. Alexander was being unnecessarily obnoxious earlier."

I tilted my head, studying her expression. "Shouldn’t you be apologizing to the group leader? She’s the one stuck managing his childish ego."

"I know," Emma murmured, taking a deliberate step closer. "I just wanted to apologize to you first."

There was a heavy, deliberate cadence to the way she delivered those words. She made that subtle, intoxicating gesture again, tucking her hair behind her ear, briefly running the tip of her tongue over her full lips while locking her green eyes onto mine.

I noticed immediately that she had changed her wardrobe. The pleated skirt she’d worn on the athletic field had vanished, replaced by an even shorter, form-fitting designer skirt that hugged her waist mercilessly. I couldn’t help wondering if the wardrobe change had been entirely intentional.

"Well," I said softly, "apology accepted."

"Thank you."

Instead of turning around to leave, she slipped past my shoulder, stepping directly into the suite.

"Your room is surprisingly nice," she remarked, glancing around the spacious interior.

"Is that a surprise?"

"It’s just... shockingly neat," she continued, running a hand along the edge of my desk. "I didn’t exactly expect a guy living out here to keep everything this impeccably organized."

"Why wouldn’t I?"

"I don’t know. Most guys I’ve met are absolute slobs." She drifted slowly across the room, inspecting the furnishings before her steps naturally led her toward my king-sized bed.

"Even your bed looks comfortable," she purred. I watched silently as she pressed a hand against the crisp, white mattress, testing its firmness. Then, she leaned forward slightly, putting her weight onto the surface.

As she bent down, her dangerously short skirt shifted upward, offering a brief, unobstructed view of the dark, black lace underwear beneath it. I looked away after a second, not before catching the unmistakable, triumphant smirk that flashed across her face.

She knew I was watching.

I slowly straightened my posture, a sudden surge of heat pooling in my chest. ’What the hell is she playing at? I don’t trust her enough to sleep with her and make her mine.’

I looked at her again, taking in the deliberate provocation radiating from her stance. ’She’s actually trying to seduce me, she’s actually lucky that I’m holding back, because her core would have been sore after I drive into her cunt to the the point of madness?’