Chapter 14
Andrea cursed under her breath as fat raindrops began to pelt her hair and shoulders, soaking through her sweater. The sky had been cloudy all day, but the sudden downpour caught her halfway between classes and the dorms. She looked around, squinting through the sheets of rain, and spotted the greenhouse in the distance.
Clutching her bag to her chest, she sprinted toward it, her sneakers splashing through puddles. By the time she reached the door, her hair was plastered to her forehead, and water dripped down her face. She pushed it open with some effort, stepping into the warm, humid air inside.
The smell of damp earth and greenery surrounded her, soothing in a way. The rain thundered against the glass panes above, the sound almost deafening in the enclosed space. She wiped at her face with her sleeve and let out a shaky laugh.
“Not your best look, Riley,” she muttered to herself, setting her bag down.
“I’d have to agree.”
Andrea froze, her head snapping toward the voice. Nathaniel Sinclair stood at the far end of the greenhouse, half-hidden among the towering ferns. He held a book in one hand, his suit jacket draped casually over the back of a chair.
“What are you doing here?” Andrea blurted, her heart skipping a beat.
He smirked faintly, closing the book with a quiet snap. “I could ask you the same thing.”
Andrea crossed her arms, suddenly hyper-aware of how disheveled she looked compared to his immaculate appearance. “I was avoiding the rain.”
“So was I,” Nathaniel said, stepping closer. His polished shoes made barely a sound on the stone floor. “It’s peaceful here. Quiet.”
Andrea nodded, though her pulse quickened as the distance between them shrank. The greenhouse, already warm, seemed to grow hotter.
“I didn’t realize you… read,” she said awkwardly, gesturing toward the book in his hand.
Nathaniel raised an eyebrow. “You thought I couldn’t?”
“No,” Andrea said quickly. “I just… I didn’t peg you as the type to hang out in greenhouses with a book, that’s all.”
He chuckled softly, the sound low and almost teasing. “People are often more complicated than they seem.”
Andrea felt a flicker of unease. Nathaniel always carried himself with an air of control, but there was something disarming about him in this moment—like he wasn’t trying so hard to maintain that icy composure.
“So,” he said after a beat, tilting his head slightly, “what’s the real reason you’re here?”
Andrea hesitated, unsure how much to say. “I told you. The rain.”
Nathaniel’s lips quirked into a knowing smile. “Fine. If you insist.” He moved to a nearby bench, setting the book down and leaning back against the armrest. His gaze was steady, almost unnerving. “Tell me, Andrea, do you always run headfirst into situations without thinking?”
Andrea frowned, defensive. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’re poking around in things you don’t understand,” Nathaniel said evenly. “Asking questions about people you barely know. Dangerous questions.”
Her stomach churned. “Are you talking about Emma?”
Nathaniel’s expression flickered—just for a moment, but it was enough for Andrea to see something behind the mask. Guilt? Fear?
“She’s not your concern,” he said finally, his voice tight.
Andrea stepped closer, ignoring the warning in his tone. “She disappeared, didn’t she? And you know more about it than you’re saying.”
Nathaniel’s jaw clenched, and he looked away, staring out the rain-streaked glass. “You think this place is simple,” he said quietly, almost to himself. “It isn’t. Nothing about Blackthorn, or my family, is simple.”
“Then explain it to me,” Andrea pressed, her voice rising. “Tell me the truth.”
Nathaniel turned back to her sharply, his dark eyes locking onto hers. For a moment, the charged air between them felt almost suffocating.
“You don’t want the truth,” he said softly, his voice laced with something she couldn’t quite name. “Trust me, Andrea. Walk away while you still can.”
The rain drummed harder above them, the noise filling the silence that followed. Andrea’s breath hitched as Nathaniel took a step closer.
“You’re not like the others,” he said, his voice barely audible over the storm. “That’s why they’re drawn to you. Why I…” He trailed off, his gaze dropping to her lips for a split second.
Andrea froze as he leaned in, his face mere inches from hers. Her pulse thundered in her ears, her heart racing as the space between them disappeared. But just as quickly, Nathaniel stopped.
He pulled back, his expression unreadable once again. “Be careful, Andrea,” he said, his voice cool and distant now. “You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into.”
Before she could respond, he grabbed his jacket and strode past her, disappearing into the rain.
Later that night, Andrea sat on her bed, her knees drawn to her chest as she replayed the encounter in her mind. Nathaniel’s words, his proximity, the way he had almost kissed her—it was all too much.
“Okay, spill,” Sophie said, plopping down beside her. “What’s got you looking like you just saw a ghost?”
Andrea hesitated, unsure how to even explain. “I ran into Nathaniel,” she said finally.
Sophie’s eyebrows shot up. “And?”
“And… I don’t know,” Andrea admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “He said things. About Blackthorn. About his family. It’s like he wanted to tell me something, but he wouldn’t.”
Sophie’s expression darkened. “Andrea, you need to be careful with him. With all of them.”
Andrea frowned. “Why? What do you mean?”
“People like the Sinclairs don’t play by the same rules we do,” Sophie said firmly. “They can make you feel important, special, like you matter to them. But at the end of the day, they’ll always protect themselves first. Always.”
Andrea bit her lip, unsure what to say.
“I’m just saying,” Sophie added, her tone softening, “don’t get too close. They’re dangerous in ways you don’t even realize yet.”
Andrea nodded slowly, but the weight of Sophie’s words only added to the confusion swirling in her chest.
Because despite everything, part of her still wanted to believe Nathaniel wasn’t the villain Sophie thought he was.
