Phoebe's POV
Charlies spun toward me. "Phoebe, did you know about this?"
I shook my head. "No idea."
We pushed through the packed crowd, fighting our way into the library.
Charlies didn't bother smoothing his wrinkled shirt as he dragged me straight to the front desk. That's when I spotted two devastatingly attractive men—one seated, one standing—completely surrounded by a swarm of excited students.
Harold sat behind the desk, his shirt sleeves rolled up to reveal strong forearms. A laptop rested beside him as he leaned back with that signature bored expression, clearly handling business.
The overhead lighting carved shadows across his face, making his features look impossibly sharp.
Forget his money and influence—Harold's looks alone could make any woman weak in the knees.
