Chapter 6 Trapped Between The Montclair Brothers
Aria's Pov.
I woke up before my alarm.
Again.
The ceiling above me stretched impossibly high, pale and smooth, like something out of a hotel suite instead of a bedroom. I blinked up at it, letting yesterday settle back into my chest.
Paris.
A new house.
A new school.
And a family that still didn’t feel like mine.
I sat up slowly and swung my legs over the side of the bed. My feet sank into the thick carpet and for a second I hated how soft it was. Like the entire house had been designed to cushion everything. Even reality.
I pushed my hair back from my face. It fell over my shoulders in loose dark waves, still slightly damp from the shower I’d taken the night before.
Across the room, the uniform hung neatly beside the wardrobe.
I stared at it longer than I should have.
The crisp white shirt.
The fitted blazer.
The skirt that looked like it belonged to someone who actually had their life together.
Eventually I forced myself to get dressed.
The shirt was cool against my skin as I buttoned it up. The blazer fit perfectly. Too perfectly. Like someone had measured me just to make sure I’d fit neatly into this world.
I stepped in front of the mirror and smoothed down the collar.
Then I stopped.
My reflection stared back at me.
I reached down and rolled the hem of my skirt once.
Then again.
Better.
If they wanted perfect, they could lower their expectations.
I ran mascara over my lashes, darkening them until my eyes looked sharper, harder to read. When I was done, I leaned closer to the mirror.
“You’ve got this,” I murmured to myself.
I wasn’t sure if I believed it.
But it sounded convincing enough.
I grabbed my bag and stepped into the hallway.
And immediately I froze.
Lucien was standing near the staircase.
One shoulder rested lazily against the wall, his jacket slung over his arm like he couldn’t be bothered to actually wear it. His dark hair was slightly messy, like he had just rolled out of bed and didn’t care enough to fix it.
He looked…comfortable.
Too comfortable.
Like the entire house belonged to him.
My footsteps stopped before I could help it.
His gaze lifted.
Our eyes met.
For a second the world seemed to pause around us.
Lucien’s expression didn’t change.
No surprise. No curiosity.
Just that calm, assessing look that made it feel like he had already decided exactly what kind of person I was.
Then, just like that, his attention dropped back to his phone.
Dismissed.
Like I had never been standing there at all.
Heat crawled up the back of my neck.
Seriously?
I straightened my shoulders and walked past him, refusing to slow down. My pulse thudded harder with every step even though I kept my expression neutral.
Part of me had expected something.
A comment.
Anything.
The fact that he hadn’t bothered almost felt worse.
And I didn't know why.
Outside, Adrien was leaning casually against the gate, his hands tucked into the pockets of his blazer.
The morning sunlight caught his hair, giving it a soft glow that made him look different from the night before.
When he saw me, his face brightened instantly.
“Morning,” he said. “You made it.”
I let out a breath I hadn’t realised I had been holding.
“Barely.”
Adrien grinned like he genuinely found that funny.
“First days usually feel like survival tests.”
We started walking toward the waiting limo together. The engine was already running, quiet and smooth in that expensive way everything here seemed to be.
Adrien glanced sideways at me.
His eyes dropped briefly to my skirt before flicking away again.
His lips twitched.
“Bold move,” he said.
I raised an eyebrow. “What?”
He nodded toward my uniform, clearly amused.
“The skirt,” he said.
A smirk pulled at my mouth.
“Rules are suggestions.”
Adrien laughed softly.
The sound sent an unexpected warmth through my chest.
“You’re going to get along just fine here,” he said.
“That didn’t sound reassuring.”
“It is,” he said lightly. “Trust me.”
Saint Clair Academy looked exactly like the kind of place people imagined when they thought about elite schools.
Luxury cars lined the entrance.
Students stepped out of them like they had been doing it their whole lives.
Everything was polished. Controlled. Perfect.
As we walked toward the gate, I noticed the stares.
Everywhere.
“Do they always stare this much?” I asked quietly.
Adrien followed my gaze.
“Only when someone new shows up.”
“And then?"
He shrugged slightly.
“And then they decide where you fit."
I snorted softly.
“What if I don’t want to fit?”
Adrien looked at me then.
Really looked.
Something thoughtful flickered across his expression.
“That,” he said slowly, “is usually when things get interesting.”
The way he said it made my chest tighten a little.
I quickly looked away, pretending to adjust the strap of my bag.
At the entrance, a familiar face caught my attention.
The girl from the boutique.
Blonde hair. Sharp eyes.
She was dressed in the same uniform as everyone else, but somehow she still managed to look like she owned the place.
Her brows pulled together slightly before recognition lit up her face.
“You,” she said, stepping closer.
Her voice was cool but curious.
“Rue Saint-Honoré.”
I blinked.
“Yeah. Guess Paris is smaller than I thought.”
She smiled faintly.
“It is,” she said. “If you run in certain circles.”
Before I could reply, the bell rang.
The sound sliced through the courtyard like a command.
Students surged forward, the crowd pulling us apart.
Adrien turned to me and leaned closer.
“We’ll talk later?”
I nodded.
“Yeah.”
Literature class was my first lesson.
The room went quiet the moment I stepped inside.
Great.
The teacher adjusted his glasses and looked down at his register.
“Ah,” he said. “Miss Hart.”
Every single head in the room turned toward me.
I kept my expression neutral.
“Yes.”
“Would you like to introduce yourself?”
Of course.
I stood slowly, aware of dozens of eyes analysing me.
Judging.
Measuring.
“I’m Aria,” I said. “I just moved here from the States. And… I’m looking forward to the year.”
That was it.
A quiet murmur spread through the room.
I sat down again.
Adrien leaned slightly toward me.
“Short and effective,” he murmured.
“I didn’t feel like giving a speech.”
“Good call.”
His smile made it annoyingly difficult not to smile back.
Lunch was loud.
But controlled.
No shouting. No chaos.
Even the laughter there sounded…polished.
Adrien led me toward a long table already half filled with people.
“Sit here,” Camille said immediately, sliding over and patting the space beside her.
I smiled slightly and sat down.
My phone buzzed in my bag.
Dad.
My chest tightened the moment I saw his name.
I locked the screen and shoved the phone back into my bag without opening the message.
I wasn't ready yet.
Across the table, two boys were arguing.
“You’re wrong,” one said, he was dark-skinned with sharp cheekbones and a lazy grin. “The ref was biased.”
The other scoffed.
“You just can’t accept losing.”
Adrien sighed.
“Theo. Jules. Behave.”
Theo grinned wider.
“No promises.”
Jules glanced at me.
“New girl?”
“Unfortunately for you,” Adrien said, “yes.”
I lifted an eyebrow.
“Is that how you introduce people here?”
Theo laughed.
“I like her already.”
Then I noticed the girls.
Three of them.
Elodie sat at the centre like the position had been assigned to her. Brown hair perfectly styled, posture flawless, bright blue eyes calmly watching everything.
Beside her was Louise, who looked like she was silently judging the entire table.
On the other side was Daphne, scrolling through her phone but clearly listening to everything.
Elodie’s gaze landed on me.
“So,” she said lightly, “American schools really don’t wear uniforms?”
“No,” I replied calmly. “We wear personality instead.”
Theo choked on his drink.
Camille bit her lip to stop laughing.
Elodie tilted her head.
“Bold.”
She extended her hand.
“I’m Elodie.”
“Aria.”
Behind her, Louise whispered something into her ear that made Elodie smirk slightly.
Daphne cleared her throat.
“So… are you staying long? Or…?”
“Long enough,” I said shooting her a mean look.
Jules suddenly clapped his hands once.
“Alright, before this gets weird, who’s coming to Theo’s place this weekend?”
Camille exhaled dramatically.
“Thank you.”
Lunch continued, but the atmosphere had changed.
I could feel the invisible lines forming.
And somehow...
I knew exactly where I was standing.
When the final bell rang, the courtyard flooded with students again.
Camille caught up to me near the steps.
“You survived,” she said. “That’s impressive.”
“Barely.”
She grinned.
“Your friend Elodie…”
“…is territorial,” Camille finished.
“Don’t take it personally. Or do. She hates when people don’t.”
I smirked.
“Good to know.”
Camille pulled out her phone.
“Give me your number. You’re going to need at least one sane person here.”
Without much thought, i typed it in
Adrien jogged toward us, backpack slung over one shoulder.
“Ride home?”
A limo was already waiting by the gate.
I sighed.
“I thought you’d say that.”
The ride back was quiet.
Paris blurred past the windows in golden evening light.
Camille waved dramatically as we pulled away, already texting me before the car even turned the corner.
Adrien leaned back in his seat.
“You handled lunch well.”
“Is that code for ‘you survived’?”
He laughed softly.
“Pretty much.”
Night arrived faster than I expected.
I sat on the edge of my bed, staring out at the glowing Paris skyline beyond the tall windows.
My uniform laid crumpled on the chair.
For the first time all day, everything felt still, and my thoughts drifted back to Brooklyn.
To the people I left behind.
It was strange how quickly the world moved on without you.
Even Mia and Ryan hadn’t texted me much since I landed.
Just then, my phone buzzed suddenly.
Unknown number.
A message appeared on the screen.
Is this your boyfriend?
My breath caught.
My thumb hovered over the message, my heart pounding harder with every second.
But I didn’t open it.
Instead I flipped the phone face down on the bed and pressed my palm over it.
Like I could stop whatever was waiting on the other side from becoming real.
