"An arrangement?"


    M, still dizzy from the alcohol, echoed his words without thinking.


    Her cheeks were flushed-a side effect of her low tolerance-and when she


    raised her head, her eyes were dewy and unfocused, her gaze drifting up to meet Lysander''s.


    Something darkened in Lysander''s eyes. His Adam''s apple bobbed as he


    swallowed, voice turning even lower, rougher.


    He spoke slowly. "Yes. I''ve been thinking... If what you need is stability, I can give you that. But not as boyfriend and girlfriend."


    M froze, not quite following.


    He continued, his tonezy, almost careless. "I know you''re struggling with money. I can support you two thousand a month, on call whenever I want. But you can''t tell anyone about us. When it''s over, I''ll give you a bonus. You won''t lose out. Satisfied?"


    As if he already expected her agreement, Lysander didn''t wait for her reply. He leaned in, impatient now, and crushed his mouth to hers.


    His breath was scorching.


    One of his big hands wrapped around her slender waist, pulling her against his chest. The kiss was clumsy and urgent, rough enough to feel like he wanted to devour her whole.


    M started to shake.


    Reality snapped back, and she recoiled, shoving at Lysander''s chest with all her strength. She beat her fists against him, eyes wide and brimming with tears, disbelief written all over her face.


    She finally broke free.


    Staggering back a few steps, she felt a burning pain on her lips-they were already swollen.


    "You-!"


    She red at him, chest heaving, a suffocating sense of humiliation rising inside her. She could hardly believe what she''d just heard.


    Support her? What did he take her for?


    During her struggle, she''d identallynded a fist on his jaw. Lysander pressed a hand to the reddening spot, frowning, and his next words came out sharp and irritated.


    "Not enough? Three thousand, then."


    When M just stared at him, speechless, Lysander''s patience snapped. His voice dropped, icy and impatient. "Six thousand. But that''s my final offer. If you want to be greedy, forget it."


    Six thousand. That was the price he was willing to pay for this rare, burning desire.


    He seemed sure it was enough.


    M trembled, staring at the man before her-arrogant, cold, tossing money at her like she was amodity. Was this really the person she''d liked?


    For a split second, shame overwhelmed her.


    Smack!


    Without thinking, she pped him hard across the face. Tears glimmering in her eyes, she red at him as he turned away, silent.


    "You bastard! You make me sick!"


    Her voice wavered, but she shouted, then spun and ran.


    After storming back to campus, M''s anger faded, reced by a gnawing fear. She regrettedshing out-after all,pared to him, she had no power, no connections.


    She couldn''t trust Lysander''s temper, either.


    And she was right.


    Angry men could be terrifying.


    Not long after, the school announced a problem with the schrship and hardship grant applications-a "processing error," they said. All awards were suspended, pending a new review.


    But days passed with no updates.


    No matter how many times M resubmitted her paperwork, it was always rejected,beled "iplete"-no hope at all.


    It wasn''t long before Miranda, her friend, got the real story: the schrship and hardship grant had been quietly given to another student.


    M barely had time to react before Miranda exploded with indignation. "What? What right does he have to that money? The schrship, fine, but the hardship grant? The guy just posted his brand new iPhone and a car on social mediast week! Seriously, what part of his life is ''hardship''? Ugh, I''m so mad I could scream!"