Aria's POV: 

  I didn't go back to my dorm that night. 

    I didn't even remember how I got home.

    Wolfe carried me, I think. Wrapped me in one of his expensive trench coats, whispered something low against my hair, and slid me into the backseat of a car I didn't remember calling.

    I still needed more.

    More of his touch, more of his body, the way he was looking at me. I still needed it.

    This man knew how to torture a woman-like, seriously.

    The whole ride, I sat in silence with his jacket smelling like him-leather, spice, power.

    I held onto his jacket, dying in my fantasies for his touch. 

    "Oh my god," I moaned slowly, as I touched my pussy, playing around my clitoris, my voice barely above a whisper. I couldn't let the driver hear me.

    My thighs were still shaking from the force of what he'd done to me. My voice long gone from how hard I'd screamed his name.

    But the thing that haunted me most wasn't the orgasm.

    It was the way he'd looked at me afterward.

    Not like a Dean.

    Not like a Dom.

    Like a man.

    Like I belonged to him.

    And it turned me on every second, every minute.

    I needed to stop thinking about him, or else I didn't what would happen. I was too young for all this, but how could I control myself?

    ---

    The next morning, Bellmere didn't feel the same.

    Everything was still perfect on the outside-manicured lawns, early fall leaves, the faint scent of overpriced espresso from the campus café. But I felt like I was walking through it naked.

    Because I had no idea what we were anymore.

    That afternoon, I got a text from an unknown number.

    Rm 207. Now.

    Immediately, I knew it was from him, Wolfe. I was happy to see it, like I had been waiting for his message.

    My pussy was tingling like a dog that saw its master.

    I didn't hesitate.

    When I arrived, the door was ajar. Inside, he wasn't waiting behind the desk.

    He was standing by the window, shirt sleeves rolled, tie loosened.

    He looked... tense.

    "Close the door," he said without looking.

    I did.

    He turned slowly.

    And that's when I saw it: the contract.

    A full stack of printed paper. Neat. Formal. The title on top read: Behavioral Agreement for Student Compliance.

    "This is for me?" I asked.

    "No."

    He stepped closer.

    "It's for us."

    I stared.

    "Safewords. Rules. Boundaries. But also privileges. Ownership."

    My mouth went dry. "You want to formalize this?"

    He nodded. "If we're going to keep going, we do it my way. No more games. No more gray lines."

    "And if I say no?"

    His jaw flexed. "Then we stop."

    It hit me then-how much control I really had.

    But it also scared me.

    Because I didn't want to stop.

    I wanted to fall deeper.

    So I walked to the table, picked up the pen, and signed it.

    But at the very bottom, I added one line:

    He's not allowed to fall in love with me.

    When I handed it to him, he didn't say a word.

    He just stared at that line for a long, long time.

    Then he folded the paper, locked it in a drawer, and said, "Strip."

    I obeyed.

    Had been Waiting for him to say that word for a very long time.

    I wanted him now, even if he wanted to only punish me, without fucking me today.

    I just needed him inside me. I wanted  him more than the last time we did it.

    I wanted him deeper this time inside me. And I was ready to obey his command.

    This time, there were no cuffs. No orders. No toys.

    Just hands.

    His hands.

    And the kind of sex that felt like something had broken open inside both of us.

    He walked slowly, each step counting, each step he took was walking closer to my pussy.

    The way he looked at me now, like a predator who had his prey in his hands.

    As he stopped in front of me.

    "I want you now."

    He gently placed his lips on me; the touch sent a shiver down my spine.

    He kissed me like I was air.

    Held me like I was breakable.

    Whispered my name like it hurt him.

    He was gently rubbing my nipples like I was his prize, his trophy.

    And when we finished, he didn't pull away.

    He just rested his forehead against mine and said, "Tell me you didn't mean that line."

    I should've lied.

    But I didn't.

    "I meant every word."

    His jaw tightened. His eyes darkened.

    And for the first time since this whole twisted thing began-

    He looked devastated.

    I had just redressed when the knock came.

    Wolfe tensed immediately. His mask snapped back into place like a reflex.

    One knock. "Who the hell is that?" I wanted to scream; I wanted to slap anyone behind that door that spoiled this moment for me.

    Then another. Louder.

    "Get in the closet," he whispered.

    I blinked. "Are you seri-"

    "Now, Aria."

    I darted into the narrow supply closet just as the door opened.

    "Dean Wolfe," came a saccharine voice. "We need to talk."

    Sloan Maddox.

    I didn't have to see her to know it was her. The tone, the heels, the calculated pause as she stepped inside.

    "What is it, Sloan?" Wolfe asked, voice neutral.

    "Oh, nothing urgent. Just thought you'd want to know... word around campus is you've been very busy."

    I couldn't see them, but I imagined her circling him like a vulture in heels.

    "I'm not interested in rumors," he said.

    "Funny," Sloan said. "Because they're not just rumors. Someone said they saw you escorting a girl out of this building. Late. Intimately."

    Silence.

    I held my breath.

    "Careful, Sloan," Wolfe said finally. "Accusations like that come with consequences."

    "Is that a threat?"

    "No. It's a warning."

    Her heels clicked once. Then again. Then silence.

    "Well," she said. "Just thought I'd keep you informed."

    The door closed behind her.

    Only then did Wolfe open the closet.

    His jaw was tight. His eyes unreadable.

    "She knows," I whispered.

    He nodded.

    "She's dangerous."

    He reached out, brushing a thumb across my lip.

    "So are you."

    And I didn't know whether to be terrified or proud of that.

Aria's POV:

  For two whole days, I didn't see him.

  Not in the halls. Not in the office. Not even on campus.

  It was like Wolfe had vanished.

  And maybe that had been the point.

  After the contract. After the sex. After Sloan Maddox and the closet and the cold truth hanging between us like a loaded gun-maybe we both needed a break.

  So I did the one thing I had been avoiding since Bellmere began.

  I went home.

  *******

  The Lancaster townhouse sat like a fortress on the Upper East Side, white stone and steel gates and the kind of polished silence that screamed money.

  My sister Ivy met me at the door. Perfect as ever. Hair curled. Lip gloss on. Her phone glued to her hand.

  "You're alive," she said, barely looking up.

  "Surprised?" I asked, stepping inside.

  "Considering Dad almost pulled you out of Bellmere last week? Yeah."

  I blinked. "What?"

  Ivy finally looked at me. "You really didn't check your email, did you?"

  Apparently, while I had been learning how to kneel and beg, my father had been firing off warnings to the Dean's office about "inappropriate distractions."

  Warnings that had mysteriously disappeared.

  I didn't need to ask who had deleted them.

  Wolfe.

  Dinner had been awkward.

  Vincent Lancaster, king of real estate and silence, sat at the head of the table like a statue carved from arrogance.

  "So," he said finally. "You're keeping your grades up."

  I nodded. "Yes."

  "And no more incidents?"

  My fork froze mid-air.

  "No," I said. "No incidents."

  He looked at me, sharp and appraising. "You reminded me too much of your mother."

  I didn't respond. That had been his favorite insult. One I wore like armor.

  "Don't ruin this, Aria," he said. "Bellmere is a gift. Don't make me regret it."

  I didn't tell him I had already broken every rule.

  I didn't tell him I had signed a contract with the man he trusted most.

  Instead, I smiled.

  "Of course, Daddy."

  *********

  Back at school, things didn't go back to normal. But they did get quiet.

  Too quiet.

  Jules noticed.

  "You had been weird," she said as we walked past the art quad.

  "Define weird."

  "Like... no moaning in your sleep. No blushing at your phone. No tension in your shoulders like you were hiding bruises in poetic places."

  I laughed.

  "I just needed a break."

  "Mmm," Jules said. "Or maybe Daddy Dom ghosted you."

  I rolled my eyes.

  She wasn't wrong.

  And yet, something told me Wolfe wasn't done.

  Not even close.

  ********

  The envelope appeared under my door three nights later.

  Cream paper. Red wax seal.

  My name written in that same sharp script.

  No instructions inside this time.

  Just a note:

  You needed air. I gave it to you. Now come back to me.

  There was no signature.

  But I didn't need one.

  I held the paper to my chest, closed my eyes, and smiled.

  Not everything had to burn all at once.

  Sometimes, it was the waiting that made the fire sweeter.

  The calm never lasted.

  That was something I should have known by now.

  I had barely gotten through my Monday lecture when the storm hit.

  It started with whispers.

  Two girls in the hallway, giggling behind their hands.

  A professor paused mid-sentence when I walked in.

  Even Jules gave me a look. Not her usual nosy smirk-something sharper. Cautious.

  "What?" I finally snapped.

  She pulled out her phone, tapped a few times, then turned the screen toward me.

  An anonymous post on the Bellmere Student Forum:

  "Guess who's screwing the Dean? Hint: Her GPA's not the only thing getting disciplined."

  Below it, a blurry photo.

  Me.

  Walking out of Room 207.

  Face partially turned. Wolfe's coat over my shoulders.

  My stomach dropped.

  "Who took that?" I whispered.

  Jules was already scanning. "Can't tell. It's blowing up though. People are reposting it everywhere. Someone's pushing it hard."

  I didn't have to guess.

  Sloan.

  *****

  The office door slammed behind me.

  Wolfe looked up from his desk, jaw already clenched.

  "You saw it?" I asked.

  He nodded.

  "I'm handling it."

  "How?"

  He stood, walking toward me with that lethal calm. "The Board had already called an emergency session. I'll get ahead of it."

  Panic twisted in my gut. "They're going to fire you."

  "Not unless they can prove anything."

  "There's a picture, Sebastian."

  He stopped short. The sound of his name-his real name-from my lips made him falter.

  Then, softer: "I won't let them touch you."

  I swallowed. "I don't care about me."

  He stepped forward, cupping my face. "You should."

  And that's when I realized... he meant it.

  This wasn't just a game to him anymore.

  That terrified me more than anything.

  ******

  Later that night, Jules met me in the library.

  "We had a problem," she said, sliding into the chair beside me.

  "Just one?" I muttered.

  She pushed her phone toward me again. "This one's bigger."

  It was a video.

  Grainy, but clear.

  A shot of me, tied and blindfolded. Moaning. Collared.

  In Wolfe's Red Room.

  My knees buckled before I even hit play.

  "Where did this come from?" I asked.

  "No one knows. But it's spreading. Fast."

  My pulse spiked. My skin turned ice cold.

  "It was recorded without permission. That's illegal, right?"

  "Aria..." Jules hesitated. "Someone wanted this out there. Bad."

  Then it clicked-

  Only one name came to mind.

  Not Sloan.

  Not even Ivy.

  Dr. Elliot Graves.

  ******

  I marched to Wolfe's office the next morning.

  How could he have just left me alone after all that had happened? Did he just forget about me?

  No, we had more than just sex; I felt more than that toward him.

  We needed to sort this out soon.

  The door was locked.

  "Locked," I wondered. He never lock this door. Why had he locked it now? Or was it just closed? I checked again.

  Not just closed-locked.

  He was already in damage control mode.

  I pressed my palm to the wood.

  "You don't get to shut me out," I whispered.

  I didn't know if he could hear me.

  But part of me hoped he didn't.

  Because if he opened that door, I wasn't sure I could stop myself from breaking.

  I leaned my ear to the door to see if I could hear any sounds coming from inside.

  "Yes Sebastian.. I'm almost there." I gasped as I was pushed back slightly by an unknown force. Did I just hear wrong?

  Or was my ear playing tricks on me?

  I leaned back again.

  "Ohh yes, harder ...baby harder"

  It was a woman's voice. 

  What?!

  Then it clicked-

  I remembered he had given me a spare key to his office so I could always have access to our secret letters regardless of if he was around or not . 

  I ran my hands through my purse; I couldn't find the key.

  Found it. 

  The key fell from my hand due to my trembling hands. The fear and betrayal sunk down through my body.

  Lump. Dump.

  Lump. Dump.

  I could hear my own heartbeat loudly, like it was racing against Usain Bolt.

  I opened the door, and to my surprise, I couldn't believe the scene in front of me.

  Oh no.

  "JULES!" I yelled.

Aria's POV:

  The world tilted.

  My lungs forgot how to breathe.

  I stood in the doorway, fingers clawing into the wood like it could drag me back to a reality where this wasn't happening. Jules-my best friend, my sister in all but blood-was tangled in the sheets with him.

  With Wolfe.

  The man who'd ruined me. The man she'd spent months warning me about.  

  Their gasps hung in the air, thick with betrayal. The scent of sweat and something sickly sweet-her perfume, still on his skin-clung to the room. Jules jerked upright, her eyes wild, guilty, lips swollen from his mouth. Wolfe turned toward me, his expression slipping from pleasure to ice in a heartbeat.  

  "Jules." My voice wasn't mine-it was shattered glass, raw and bleeding.  

  She flinched. "Aria, please-"

  " Don't."The word cut her off mid-lie. My pulse was a riot. "You don't get to explain this."

  Wolfe stood, the blanket pooling at his waist, but I wouldn't look. Wouldn't let myself remember the way his body had moved over mine, the way he'd whispered "You're mine"like it meant something.  

  "Aria, listen-"

  "Save it."My laugh was a weapon. "You ghosted after destroying my life, and now you're fucking my best friend? Real fucking poetic."

  His jaw locked, but his eyes-dark, furious, almost wounded-didn't waver. "It's not what you think."

  "Then what is it?"I screamed , the sound ripping through the room.

  "Enough."His voice cracked like a gunshot, that familiar command slamming into me-the same one he'd used when I was beneath him, gasping, begging.

  It broke me.

  I staggered back. Two traitors. One bed. And me-the idiot who'd loved them both.

  "Aria-""Jules reached for me.  

  I was already gone

  The door slammed behind me, but their voices followed, twisting like knives between my ribs. My vision blurred. The taste of salt, sharp and bitter, flooded my tongue.  

  Tears.

  Pathetic.I scraped them away. Why cry? Over a man who'd played me? Over a friend who'd plunged the knife in deep ?

  Best friends.The words were ash in my mouth. 

  A laugh bubbled up-hollow, jagged. Maybe I deserved this. Maybe the universe was laughing at me. My face was everywhere , my body a joke, my future bleeding out with every rumor. And Wolfe? He'd won.

  "Hey, Dean's little slut."

  The voice licked up my spine. 

  RAND.

  The student president lounged against the lockers, all sun-kissed smirk and venom**. His yellow Nike shirt clung like a second skin, his hair artfully disheveled-calculated chaos.

  "Not now," I muttered.  

  "Now's exactly the time." He pushed off the lockers, his breath hot against my ear."You're coming to my party tonight. Masked. Anonymous." An envelope slid into my palm, his fingers lingering too long." Be there, or I'll make sure your expulsion isn't just approved-it's a fucking spectacle."

  I recoiled. "You wouldn't"

  "Try me." His lips grazed my knuckles, a mockery of chivalry. "Eight PM. Don't be late."

  The envelope burned in my grip.

    Around me, whispers slithered like snakes:  

    "-heard Dean Wolfe *choked* her-"  

    "-total whore. Did you see the photos?-"  

    I clenched my fists. *Keep walking. Don't let them see you break.*  

    By some miracle, I made it home. Dad wasn't there. Small mercies.  

    Ivy cornered me in the foyer. "Where've you been?" Her gaze dropped to the envelope. "What's that?"  

    Before I could react, she snatched it. Her eyes lit up. "*Rand's party?* You're going!"  

    "No."  

    "*I am.* And you're coming with me." She grabbed my shoulders. "Masks mean no one recognizes you. Free drinks. A distraction." Her voice softened. "You look like hell, Aria."  

    I swallowed. Maybe she was right. Maybe I needed to forget-even for one night.  

    "Fine."  

    Ivy squealed. "I'll pick your outfit! You'll be unstoppable-

    My phone buzzed. An unknown number:  

    **Meet me tonight. Vines Restaurant. Let me explain.**  

    My stomach twisted. *Wolfe.*  

    I deleted it.  

    ---