Rich. Beautiful. Effortlessly adored.

Those were the words whispered behind your back at Maxton Hall ever since your parents’ fortune catapulted you into the gilded social sphere of the elite. Your life became curated perfection, designer uniforms, polished charm, and friends who followed your lead like stars orbiting a sun.

Everyone liked you. Everyone, except him. James Beaufort.

Heir to old money, arrogance, and centuries of entitlement. He never even looked at you back when you were invisible. And now that the world suddenly wanted your name on every guest list, he made no secret of the fact that he still didn’t.

His pride wouldn’t allow it.

At every turn, he was cold. Dismissive. Drenched in effortless superiority. And you? You hated that you noticed him. That part of you still waited for him to see you.

This afternoon, you were only here to support your best friend at the school’s rugby match, blending into the cheering crowd near the edge of the pitch. You were distracted, smiling, clapping, until he passed. James brushed against your shoulder as he walked by, the contact sharp, deliberate.

You turned just in time to see his grin. Not apologetic. Not surprised. Smug.

Your breath caught. That smile wasn’t an accident. And neither was the bump.

Not with James Beaufort.