“Of course, the library. I’ve been pretty busy lately—trying to get a paper published, gotta keep hustling,” she replied. Lately, she’d been in touch with her firm’s boss more often, and the more they talked, the more she felt the cards in her hand just weren’t enough.

She’d landed a job at a securities firm right out of college; sure, she came from a top school, but with just a bachelor’s degree, she didn’t have much of an edge. Even if she had a sharp instinct for the field, it wasn’t enough to win over the skeptics.

She was planning to go for a part-time master’s degree once she started working, keep building her credentials. For now, publishing more papers was the best way to polish up her resume.

Jamison nodded approvingly. “Ambitious. I like that. Keep up the hard work.”

“Yeah, talk later.”

She figured Jamison wouldn’t be back today—his call was probably just to check in, make some small talk.

But around four in the afternoon, her phone buzzed with a message from him: What do you want for dinner tonight?

She perked up immediately.

Are you coming over tonight? she texted back.

Almost at your campus. Waiting at a traffic light.

He knew she was at the library and probably couldn’t take a call, so he’d texted instead.

Ivy’s heart skipped with excitement. She quickly gathered her things.

Stepping out of the library, she headed towards the main gate.

As she passed the basketball courts, she kept to the opposite sidewalk, steering clear of the noise. She didn’t expect to hear someone call out behind her.

“Ivy!”

She turned, surprise flickered in her eyes, quickly replaced by an annoyed frown.

It was Lamont Quinn.

Remembering how Jamison had sent his sister away, Ivy worried Lamont was here to settle scores. She averted her gaze and picked up her pace.

But Lamont jogged after her, spinning a basketball on one finger as he fell into step, walking backwards at her side.

Classic show-off move.

A freshman or sophomore might have been dazzled by that little performance, but Ivy just found it obnoxious.

He was obviously used to being fawned over—he knew exactly how to play to his audience and milk every ounce of attention.

“Ivy, long time no see. That concussion healed up?”

“I’m fine.”

“You sure you don’t want any compensation? For, you know, emotional distress or whatever…”

“No need.”

“Our department’s playing yours in a friendly match tomorrow. You coming to watch?”

Ivy almost laughed. “Not my thing.”

“Oh, you’re not still traumatized from getting beaned in the head, are you? Total accident, I swear. I’ve played for years and never lost control like that.”

She ignored him.

Just then, a luxury car pulled up on the road ahead. Even from a distance, she recognized Jamison’s sleek black Maybach. A smile broke across her face.

“My husband’s here, Lamont. Why don’t you be a gentleman and let me go? He’s not the patient type.” She fixed him with a pointed look, making it clear he’d worn out his welcome.

Lamont looked surprised, glancing around. “Your husband? Isn’t he supposed to be at work right now?”

Before he could finish, the Maybach rolled to a stop at the curb.

Ever since Ivy had complained his Koenigsegg was too flashy, Jamison had switched to this imported Maybach—subtle, but still impressive, with a triple-six license plate.

Jamison spotted Ivy from a distance, as well as the “fly” buzzing around her.

That “fly” was spinning his basketball, practically flashing a neon sign for attention. Jamison’s eyes narrowed, his expression darkening.

He pulled over, stepped out of the car, and strode toward them.