I send her another message asking for her whereabouts.

I get a response a few seconds later.

MILLS HOTELS???? REALLY??? WTF?

It’s followed by half a dozen emojis ranging from anger to surprise and that weird one with the what the hell hands. I’m not sure why this is such a surprise, or why it warrants shouty caps and all the emojis. I fire one back with a single question mark.

I follow the trail of knapsack-clad students and finally spot Cosy trailing behind the rest of her group, phone in her hand, frown firmly in place. She slows and punches at the screen, falling farther behind the rest of her group. I use her distraction to my advantage. Taking her by surprise, I thread my arm through hers and guide her toward the closest open door. I close it behind us for privacy and realize a second too late that it’s a supply closet, not an empty office.

“What the fuck, Griffin?” Cosy shouts.

“Shh. Keep your voice down.” This would probably look bad if someone accidentally stumbled across us.

Cosy’s expression shifts from surprise to disbelief and then annoyance. “You scared the crap out of me! What do you think you’re doing dragging me into a damn supply closet?”

“Why are you so angry?”

She blinks a bunch of times and throws her hands up in the air. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe it would’ve been nice to know I was dating a guy with more money than freaking God!”

“Pretty sure God doesn’t deal with dollar bills.” Even I can admit that was weak.

“This isn’t a joke, Griffin. I need to get back to my class before they notice I’m gone, and you need to get back to running the goddamn world.” She shoves my shoulder and turns around, reaching for the door handle.

“Whoa, hold on a second.” I box her in to keep her from trying to escape. Her hair slaps me in the chest as she whirls to face me, her anger almost entertaining. “Why are you so pissed off? You’ve been to my suite, you see the car I drive, and the restaurants I take you to aren’t on par with McDonalds. You’re already aware I have money.”

“Yeah, but every time I ask about your job, you brush it off as not important. Why not come out and tell me instead of dancing around it? You made me believe you were some kind of hot nerdy numbers guy who got a hard-on over stats and worked for a company that had some seriously awesome freaking perks.”

“I am that guy, and my job isn’t a riveting topic of conversation.” I’m still dancing around the subject.

She props a fist on her hip. “You’re a hotel mogul and a freaking billionaire!”

“My father is a billionaire, not me.”

She pins me with an unimpressed glare. “Semantic, Griffin. You’re an heir to the Mills Hotel dynasty.”

“Why is this suddenly an issue when it wasn’t before?” I don’t like the hot feeling creeping up my spine, although it could be because I’m wearing a suit in an enclosed space with little in the way of ventilation.

“I didn’t know before you got up in front of my class and presented to all of us.”

“Untrue. You didn’t know specifics. This shouldn’t change a damn fucking thing.” Now I’m pissed, partly because she’s reacting like this and also because in some ways I did keep this from her intentionally. I didn’t offer it up because she didn’t press.

“Why not be honest with me, though? Why all the vagueness?”

“Because I didn’t want it to change the dynamic between us, or the way you see me.”

Cosy rubs her temple. “I didn’t expect for you to be one of the presenters. I’m a college student and you’re like”—she motions toward me, eyes moving over me in a foreign way—“a freaking God. Also, my teacher wants to ride you like a roller coaster.”

“Fuck your teacher.”

She arches a brow.

I wave the comment away. “I can’t change the family I was born into, and I thought you were above all the petty shit that doesn’t matter.”

“I am above it,” she snaps.

“Well, you’re sure not acting like you are,” I shoot back.

She frowns and her stance shifts. “It would’ve been a lot easier to handle if I’d had some warning before now. You presenting caught me off guard.”

“You know what caught me off guard? That fucking kid practically trying to sit in your damn lap every time you gave him a shred of attention.”

“What?”

I’m digging myself into a hole, but now I’m frustrated and annoyingly insecure. “Who is that kid? Does he know we’re involved? Because it sure didn’t seem like it.”

“You mean Landon? He’s a classmate who can’t take a hint.”

“Well, maybe he needs you to be more explicit. You know what else might help?” I tug at the hem of her dress. “If you weren’t at risk of flashing him your fucking panties every time you sit down.”