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The Jilted Heiress And Her Ruthless Savior Novel Cover

The Jilted Heiress And Her Ruthless Savior

My fiancé, Howell, bought every red rose on the East Coast and dumped them on the campus quad. My roommates thought it was the apology of the century, begging for me back. But I have a fatal pollen allergy. If I walked into that heart-shaped sea of flowers, my throat would swell shut in minutes. "He's an idiot," my friend yelled. "How does your fiancé forget your medical history?" I just pulled out my EpiPen and put on a mask. "They are not for me." They were for Carrie, the manipulative girl he had repeatedly chosen over me. For years, he blamed me every time she put him in danger, eventually breaking our engagement to protect her fragile act. While he waited for her in that deadly cloud of pollen, Carrie was busy dropping a heavy terracotta pot from a third-floor balcony, slicing my arm to the bone. When Howell finally called Carrie's name on the megaphone, the embarrassed crowd panicked and fled. I was caught in the stampede. A girl slammed into me, ripping my fresh stitches wide open. As hot blood poured down my arm and my lungs burned from the distant rose oil, I watched Howell smile at the girl who was actively trying to kill me. The absolute selfishness of it erased my last drop of pity. Just as my knees buckled, a massive arm wrapped tightly around my waist. Darion Green, the ruthless and untouchable student body president, scooped me up into his chest, his pitch-black eyes glaring at the crowd with murderous fury.
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Chapter 7

Nurse Sharon snipped the thick black thread with her scissors. She tied a tight knot against Elinor's skin.

Sharon grabbed a roll of thick white gauze. She wrapped it tightly around Elinor's forearm.

"Do not lift anything heavy," Sharon ordered. "Do not stretch the muscle. Keep it dry."

Elinor looked down at her arm. The thick bandage felt heavy and restrictive. She let out a slow breath. She used her right hand to pull her credit card from her wallet and paid the copay at the desk.

She walked out of the clinic. The numbness from the anesthetic was wearing off. A deep, throbbing ache pulsed in her arm with every heartbeat.

She walked straight back to the music building. She had to find Connor Bailey, the event coordinator. She had to cancel her performance for the Founder's Day Gala.

The hallways of the music building were completely empty. Everyone had run to the main quad to watch Howell's spectacle.

Elinor walked toward the administrative office. Suddenly, a massive wall of sound stopped her in her tracks.

Someone was playing the piano in Practice Room A. It was Chopin's Winter Wind. It was the exact piece she was supposed to play tomorrow night.

The notes were incredibly fast. The force behind the keys was aggressive and flawless. It was better than her own playing.

Elinor walked slowly to the heavy wooden door. She looked through the small square glass window.

A man sat at the Steinway. He wore a custom-tailored black dress shirt. His shoulders were incredibly broad.

His side profile was sharp and harsh. His jawline looked like it was cut from stone. He radiated a freezing, untouchable arrogance.

Elinor recognized him instantly. Darion Green. The ruthless and secretive Student Body President of King's State University.

Darion struck the final, thunderous chord. He froze. He felt the eyes on him. He pulled his hands off the keys.

He turned his head. His pitch-black eyes locked directly onto Elinor through the glass.

The intensity of his stare hit her chest like a physical blow. Her heart skipped a beat. She took a step backward.

Darion stood up. He walked to the door with long, heavy strides. He grabbed the handle and yanked the door open.

His massive frame blocked out the light from the room. A strong scent of cedar wood and cold rain washed over her.

Darion did not look at her face. His black eyes dropped instantly to her left arm. He stared at the thick white gauze. A tiny spot of red blood had already soaked through the fabric.

His pupils contracted. His jaw clenched so hard the muscle ticked. His large hands dropped to his sides and curled into tight fists.

"What happened to your arm?" Darion asked. His voice was incredibly deep. It had a rough, dangerous edge to it.

Elinor felt intimidated by his presence. She swallowed hard.

"An accident," Elinor said quickly. "I am looking for Connor. I have to cancel my solo for tomorrow."

Darion frowned. His expression turned to stone.

"You cannot cancel the finale," Darion said coldly. "It makes the university look incompetent."

Elinor felt a spark of anger. She lifted her bandaged arm slightly.

"Do you expect me to play Chopin with one hand?" she snapped.

Darion took a step forward. He invaded her personal space. He looked down at her.

"I will play it for you," Darion commanded. "I am already scheduled to perform this exact piece for the International Chopin Piano Competition next month. The muscle memory is flawless."

Elinor froze. "That breaks protocol. We have never rehearsed the stage cues."

Darion ignored her. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a sleek black iPhone. He unlocked it and shoved it toward her chest.

"Put your number in," he ordered. "I will send you the revised schedule tonight."

Elinor's brain stopped working. She took the phone with her right hand. She typed in her digits.

Darion took the phone back. He pressed call. Elinor's phone vibrated in her pocket.

Darion looked deep into her eyes. "Rest your arm," he said.

He turned around and walked down the hallway. Elinor stood frozen outside the door. Her heart hammered against her ribs.

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