Devil on the Rooftop [Book 1]

Chapter 6 - Khaleel

Dad's hobby was boxing, playing it, watching it and betting on it. So, he used his hard earned investment money to find the talent, harness it, and profit off it. I had gone head to head with a whole lot of his favourites and lost myself somewhere along the way. They tried to hold their punches because of my age, but dear old dad told them to toughen me up.

Sometimes it felt like I had been swinging fists my whole life but that just wasn't true. There was a time when violence didn't know my name. A time when I wasn't being drawn into the darkness; into a world where boys were broken so men could be made.

I turned my attention to the citrusy scent wafting through the student council room; it was all I could do to avoid pulling memories from my childhood. The smell came from a strange device that spurted puffs of vapour and then dispersed into the air.

"What the hell is that thing?" I spoke to the only other person in the room. "And why is it violating my nostrils?"

No reply.

The student council room was big with double doors leading to a storage room, an event space, and an archival library. So, this was where my old man's money went? He was happy to make contributions to the academy as long as his investments were made on people, not things.

I moved to sit on the square desks that had been pushed together to create a long rectangular table. "I'm surprised you agreed to let me in the council," I said, motivated to get a reaction. "Do you know what this means for your brother? Having a man on the inside?"

Tomasia turned her back on me and continued to scribble notes in a purple booklet.

I glared daggers at her, wondering how anyone could find this rude woman attractive? Zander was a moron. He thought spending one-on-one time with the student body president was a privilege, but he couldn't be more wrong. I had known her almost as long as her brother and I could say with certainty that he was a lot more likeable.

A bright and smiley athlete entered the room like a whirlwind. "Made it!" she declared, thawing the cold atmosphere.

My eyes fell to her white soccer cleats and sturdy legs—women in sports were right up my alley and damn, she was no exception. I admired the way her blue jersey hugged her curvy figure; the way those shorts appealed to my gaze. She set her duffle bag aside and stretched her arms up to the ceiling, her damp, long, and curly ponytail swaying to expose her neck. The citrusy fragrance returned stronger than ever, but this time it didn't offend. Instead, it reminded me of my old man's villa, and how my mom used to pick fresh lemons to make her famous iced tea.

My chested ached in response.

"Did you win?" Tomasia asked.

Her question snapped me out of it, and for the first time today, I was grateful to be around her.

"Duh!" the athlete exclaimed. "Did you think I would lose? Please."

"Hey," I greeted her.

Her arms froze mid-air when she looked my way. Her almond eyes widened in surprise then utter disbelief and disappointment. I appreciated the structure of her round face, the shape of her brows, her tanned complexion, and the beauty mark on her left cheek. The longer I stared, the more familiar she looked. Did we have classes together? Was she one of Zander's fangirls? Maybe she was one of our clients? I couldn't put my finger on it.

"What is he doing here?" the athlete snapped.

Tomasia set her pencil down. "Yes, unfortunately, we will be accommodating this headache from now on," she explained. "The dean has got it in his head that we can somehow tame this reckless idiot."

"Who are you calling an idiot?" I glared.

Tomasia knew she could push my buttons as much as she liked. There would be no consequences for her to face, not while her brother was around.

"Khaleel will be taking minutes during our meetings instead of Laure," the student body president went on. "He will be our assistant until further notice, essentially our very own little—"

"Bitch," I interrupted, getting off the table.

"I was going to say, helper."

I shuffled towards the athlete and towered over her. "Are you the treasurer?" I asked.

"No."

"The secretary?"

She scowled at me.

"A committee member?"

"I'm the vice president!"

"That's how I know you!" I gasped. "Man, it was really bugging me! You made that big speech to raise money for breast cancer survivors. Right? That was you!"

She took a step back.

"What's with the cold shoulder, Vice Prez? I don't bite."

"My name is Matilda," she snapped, her eyes glistening a little. It looked like she was holding back tears. "If you're going to be here then you're going to have to leave your violent tendencies at the door, you insufferable delinquent!"

I raised my brow. "Uh, not sure where this aggression is coming from but you need to relax. I haven't done anything violent."

"Your track record says otherwise," Matilda lectured, regaining composure. "So, I'm warning you. No roughhousing. No fights. No idiocy."

I pouted. "Aw, you're no fun."

"If you disrespect us, or become a hindrance then we won't hesitate to let the dean know," Tomasia added.

I gave her the side-eye. "Wouldn't dream of it, Tommy."

Her sharp retort startled Matilda. "Don't call me that!"