Chapter 51: Prince Viremont or Heroes Don’t Discuss Production Costs

Damon glanced at Charlotte.

She was still flushed and trying very hard to pretend she wasn’t. Her green eyes met his for half a second before darting away like a shy cat which was immersely cute, and the hand that had been gripping his shirt a moment ago flexed once around the edge of her tablet.

’Oh, that worked way too fucking well.’

Of course, Damon had never expected this success, he’d expected she’ll pull away immediately after he saves her but whatever had worked in his favor, he was thankful and he could see the flushing and a hidden curve on her lips; he had just taken half her panel and turned it into live theater.

"Ashcroft," Damon said, his voice carrying easily through the little circle that had formed around them. "Are you going to apologize to the lady?"

Half the group went quiet.

Charlotte stared at the side of Damon’s face in utter surprise, seeing this normal looking boy telling an old money heir to apologize to her!

Who would tell an Ashcroft to apologize?!

’Is he out of his mind?’

Bradley stared at all of him.

"Hah..." Bradley forced out an awkward laugh, though most of his earlier confidence had apparently fallen over with him. "Look, Damon, I assure you that was a mistake."

"Yeah, I saw it."

Some tiny honest part of Damon’s brain cleared its throat and reminded him that he’d caused the fucking accident.

Damon ignored that employee and told him there’d be no severance.

’Heroes do not discuss production costs!’

He glanced back at Charlotte. "You alright, Ms. Ainsley?"

"I’m fine." Her voice came out a little softer than before. "Thank you."

Damon nodded, then looked back at Bradley.

"Good. Sorry that happened, Ms. Ainsley. Bradley’s kind of like a hound, you see. If he doesn’t get what he wants by acting like a gentleman, sometimes he forgets the gentleman part."

Bradley’s face tightened instantly. "Ah, Damon, that’s not what h-happened."

Damon slowly turned his head toward him.

Bradley swallowed.

That reaction did not escape the people standing around them.

"Actually," Damon continued, "Bradley’s harmless. He just grew up rich enough that nobody taught him rejection is a complete sentence."

The silence afterward was beautiful.

A couple freshmen physically turned their faces away because laughing openly at Bradley Ashcroft III still required more courage than Blackwood orientation apparently provided.

"We all watched you spend half the tour bothering her after she already embarrassed you once," Damon added.

Bradley’s jaw tightened. "Damon."

"Bradley."

Bradley exhaled hard through his nose. "Look, okay, bud. Damon, I’m sorry. Let’s not turn this into some whole thing."

Damon blinked. "Do not apologize to me, you dimwit."

Several people choked on laughs. One guy failed completely and disguised his as a cough so badly it only made things worse.

Damon tilted his head toward Charlotte without taking his eyes off Bradley. "Apologize to Ms. Ainsley. And while you’re already embarrassing yourself, apologize for that stupid comment earlier too."

Now everybody was properly staring.

Not because Bradley Ashcroft III was apologizing.

Because Bradley Ashcroft fucking III, the handsome old-money playboy who had spent the last hour acting like rejection was something that happened to poorer men, had taken one look at Damon and immediately become careful.

And his two friends had done exactly the same thing.

{A/N: People notice fear faster than introductions. Should print that on a mug.}

Nobody there knew what the fuck had happened between Damon and those three before today, but suddenly everybody knew there was something.

Bradley finally turned toward Charlotte. "Ms. Ainsley, I’m sorry about what just happened. Seriously. I tripped. It wasn’t intentional. I wasn’t trying to..."

His eyes betrayed him for half a second, dropping lower before snapping straight back to Charlotte’s face and her chest.

Damon nearly sighed. ’Brother, help yourself.’

Charlotte caught it too, her expression flattened.

Bradley swallowed again. "And I’m sorry for the comment earlier."

Charlotte studied him for a moment before giving a small nod. "Thank you."

Then her eyes went straight back to Damon.

He caught it immediately. ’Yeah. Sixteen better be loading somewhere.’

Damon lifted one eyebrow at Bradley... Bradley sighed so hard his ancestors probably felt it.

"Good," Damon said. "See? Nobody died."

That was it before Damon simply stepped aside and let Charlotte take control of her tour again, which was bad for Bradley because there was nothing left for him to argue against without looking like an even bigger idiot.

It took several minutes for the group to start pretending the scene had never happened.

Pretending being the important part.

The tour had moved again, Charlotte explaining buildings and facilities while freshmen whispered behind one another and occasionally glanced toward Damon like he’d grown a second head. A few stared openly. Bradley stayed farther back with his two friends now, unusually quiet for somebody who had spent the previous half hour desperately making sure everyone knew he existed.

Damon returned to his less conspicuous position in the group but people kept looking at him.

More importantly, Charlotte kept looking at him.

Every few minutes Damon caught those bright green eyes drifting backward, finding him, staying a fraction too long, then returning to whatever piece of Blackwood architecture she was supposed to be explaining.

’Zero out of a hundred, huh?’ His mouth almost curved.

He resisted checking the panel for a while.

A very short while before panel eventually updated anyway.

[Admissions — Charlotte Ainsley]

[Desire Meter: 00 → 16/100]

Thought: "He saved me from embarrassment before the whole freshmen! God, why am I still thinking about that?"

_

Damon stared at the number.

Sixteen from fucking zero.

’Okay. That’s disgusting.’

Not Charlotte, the system.

He had somehow hit Knight in Shining Armor, Damsel in Distress, public protection, humiliating the asshole in the wrong, and enough romance-novel material to make Cupid demand overtime, all in less than a minute.

Then Damon’s brain helpfully reminded him that twenty minutes ago he’d been sitting in judgment of every performative man in the building. Now he’d deliberately manufactured a rescue because a magical panel told him a stacked admissions woman wanted a knight.

’Incredible moral consistency. Premium prince DLC unlocked.’

He tried defending himself by deciding Bradley performed because he wanted everyone watching while Damon had done it because—

Nope.

That defense wasn’t surviving cross-examination.

Fine.

He was a hypocrite. But successful hypocrite sitting at sixteen points.

’I can live with that. I can live with that so hard.’

The tour eventually ended near the central courtyard, where freshmen started peeling away toward residences, dining halls and whatever other first-day emergencies rich eighteen-year-olds managed to manufacture.

Damon had already started walking when Charlotte called after him.

"Damon."

He turned and Charlotte stood several steps away with her tablet tucked against her side. Up close, most of the blush had disappeared, but not completely.

"Thank you again," she said. "For catching me. And for... handling Bradley."

Damon gave her an easy smile. "You don’t have to thank me. I’m just glad you’re alright."

Her expression softened.

Damon shoved his hands into his pockets and glanced toward where Bradley had disappeared with his friends: "Guys like him make the rest of us look terrible anyway. One old-money idiot acts like every woman should be impressed because his grandfather owns a street, and suddenly people think all of us came out of the same factory."

Charlotte laughed it was small and very different from the dry execution she’d given Bradley earlier.

Damon felt absurdly pleased with himself, he added. "When people hear old money they immediately expect some spoiled asshole with expensive shoes who thinks ’no’ is the beginning of negotiations. I’d rather not help prove them right."

Charlotte’s smile lingered. "You don’t seem particularly interested in proving anything."

’If only you knew, Ms. Ainsley. If only you had the faintest idea what I’ve been proving to myself since about five this morning.’

"Trying too hard usually makes people look stupid," Damon said. "You demonstrated that pretty well earlier."

Her green eyes brightened. "That was not a demonstration."

"Could’ve fooled Bradley."

She laughed again.

’Of course I couldn’t just save her. Had to be a fucking prince too.’ That was why he’d deliberately said he was from old money. Yes he’d been her shining prince already but how about being an actual prince.

Twenty minutes judging performative men, and now here he was polishing the armor because Charlotte’s panel practically came with a castle.

Still, she was smiling.

Damon considered the moral hearing adjourned: "Besides," he said, giving her a slight nod, "I think you’ve suffered enough freshman confidence for one afternoon."

"That might be the correct thing anyone has said to me today."

"Terrible day for Blackwood, then."

Her smile widened.

Damon stepped backward. "Have a good afternoon, Ms. Ainsley."

"You too, Damon."

He turned and started walking away before the idiot part of his brain found some way to ruin a perfectly good exit.

"Damon?"

He looked back.

Charlotte hesitated for just a fraction of a second, tablet still tucked against her side, then smiled: "Try not to make a habit of rescuing admissions staff."

His grin came easily. "No promises."

Damon walked away before Prince Viremont accidentally asked for her number and fucked up the entire performance. Behind him, Charlotte remained exactly where she was for several seconds longer than she needed to.