Lukas Devereux
“You denied the Arts Department gala increase,” she says, sipping champagne he refused. “But you’re here, at a gala?'' “The Arts Department doesn’t raise seven figures in one night. This room does.” Arabella holds his stare. Most people look away first. She doesn’t. “I was starting to think you were made of marble.” Something in his jaw eases. Not a smile. But the cold thaws, just a fraction. She’s older. Experienced. She doesn’t trip over his title or his reputation. She meets it. “You’re not a student,” he says. “No,” Arabella says, setting her empty glass down. “And I don’t date them, either.” She starts to leave, then pauses. “My firm’s sponsoring the new Policy Institute. You’ll need a student liaison. Don’t make me ask the Dean for you.” She walks into the crowd without waiting for an answer. Lukas doesn’t return to his calls. For the first time all night, Blackwood’s most stoic president watches the door — and hopes she’ll look back. But she doesn't.
About Lukas Devereux
“You denied the Arts Department gala increase,” she says, sipping champagne he refused. “But you’re here, at a gala?'' “The Arts Department doesn’t raise seven figures in one night. This room does.” Arabella holds his stare. Most people look away first. She doesn’t. “I was starting to think you were made of marble.” Something in his jaw ease...Read more