Lover: A Student Teacher Romance (Court University Book 4)

by Eden O'Neill

I certainly hadn’t in a while, and Guy made me sound completely thirsty.

  “I hadn’t just asked,” I cut off, attempting to save face. “But I have. In the past. How are you? Doing well in Professor Donahue’s class, I assume?”

  I hid behind my champagne flute, a long and full drink. Even then, I didn’t escape the stretch of Ramses’s grin nor his hand seeking mine.

  “Quite fine, Professor,” he said, and I almost believed he’d kiss my hand. He certainly held it for long enough. He cradled the back in undying heat before letting go, and I passed that off with another drink. He shook his head. “And it’s nice to know you’ve been asking about me.”

  So goddamn arrogant, so cool.

  He stood in front of me in a way that blatantly teased. Though, no other parties outside of us would know. We just had an underlying thing between us, something we both could read. Right about now, I’d be shoving him while he made me smile.

  Another stiff drink as Ramses went on about how well he was doing. His marks were already at the top of the class in the shortened seminar, something Guy quickly let our small group in on. Ramses seemed to be shining without me and doing so beautifully. His lovely guest stood rather silently beside him and seemed more fascinated studying the way the lights flickered across the walls than actually engaging in conversation. This pretty, young thing was eye candy, nothing more, but that didn’t mean she and Ramses weren’t a thing.

  Why does it matter?

  It didn’t, another solid drink on my part. I needed to take it easy since I was driving after this. I wasn’t going home. Too late for that, but I did need to head over to the hotel I’d booked before getting on the road. I was staying downtown.

  “Well, we don’t want to keep you,” Guy stated, being polite. He was polite, seemed like a good man, but he wasn’t my man. I really wasn’t interested, but he wasn’t bad to socialize with. He shook Ramses’s hand. “We’ll let you get back to it. Great event as always.”

  So this was his party, interesting.

  This surprised me. Especially since Ramses only started going to Pembroke this term, and the money tonight went to the school. I suppose the Mallicks did donate money to the university. Perhaps, Ramses was merely here as a representative. I knew Evie wouldn’t be here tonight, another event she had going on back in Maywood Heights. It wasn’t charity, something about a country club event, but she had invited me since there was a dinner and she had another plus one.

  I kind of wished I’d taken her up on that now, Guy passing his final greeting off to both Ramses and his date. I gave the same, but not before catching Ramses’s eye. I found almost a promise in them, something I didn’t realize until, well, he did corner me later that night.

  He found me actually cutting a check in donation, not much but I could do something. I still was getting alimony from the divorce, so I had a little to spare. I tried to conserve since I was on my own with not quite a six-figure salary. I’d been out of the teaching game for a long time, and Pembroke had offered a place to start over with room for growth. I’d taken the contract very quickly. Especially since Evie had done me a favor by putting a good word in for the job.

  Her son had wiggled his way into my life not long after that, the same way he continued to do so now. Catching me after my donation, Ramses offered me a glass of champagne.

  He had two.

  I probably shouldn’t—for a couple of reasons—but I took it. One of those reasons was I didn’t want to be piss-ass drunk, and reason two seemed obvious.

  The gesture had been a gift from him, the pair of us stealing a sip together. I hadn’t seen him in many weeks, the term more than half over now. He appeared to be thriving, a beautiful lady on his arm. Said arm candy wasn’t with him now, but perhaps, she needed a potty break.

  “Where’s your date?” I asked, and he shrugged.

  “Somewhere.” A buck’s dark coat in my direction, those eyes a hazel rosin. “Yours?”

  “Somewhere.”

  This game we played. Enough for me to shake my head. It made him smile, a hand coming over his buzz cut. I directed a finger at it. “New do?”

  “It’s functional. Easier.” He chuckled. “Mom nearly killed me. She loves snatching me by it when I’m being an asshole.”

  “And why did she decide not to be here tonight?” I knew she was somewhere else, just didn’t know why if he was hosting an event. “I heard this is your family’s box. Your event?”

  “Ma never comes to this thing. Me either. Obviously, since I didn’t go to Pembroke until recently.” He cuffed his jacket sleeve. “This is one of Dad’s old events. I’m here out of formality.”

  “I see.”

  With that between us, he took advantage of another sip of his champagne, his father I knew to be a sore topic. It was one of many things I hadn’t gotten to break down with him. Not that I’d given him a chance.

  I hadn’t given either of us that, but it was probably for the best.

  “You look good, Bri,” he said, smiling. “Or should I still call you professor?”

  “You don’t have to call me that.” And he didn’t. I wasn’t his professor. I shrugged. “And you do, too.”

  He looked more than good, heaven actually. He looked like a man, but I’d never seen him as a boy. He took on too much responsibility, had too much passion, to be anything else.

  His incessant joy and love for life had been the only thing that made him slip a little. He was so hopeful for things, his optimism undying. Even though I’d pushed him away, he still came over here with me now as if not missing a beat. He didn’t let the world or me taint him, his spirit.

  “You didn’t answer my last email.” He appeared to come out of nowhere with this, as if in my head. I’d pretty much just been thinking about that, how I’d pushed him away. His head tilted. “I know I said the ball is in your court, but how long are you going to make me wait, Brielle?”

  He was still waiting? Really?

  Really.

  I saw that in his eyes, that intention, that confidence. I hadn’t responded to his email. Well, I had but chickened out and recalled it. I hadn’t been able to send my response that day. I couldn’t be weak to him. I knew what would happen.

  “What did you want to say?” I asked, stupid that I asked. I couldn’t help it. “The conversation with your friend. How did it go?”

  I had wondered about it, naturally curious.

  His smile dashing right, Ramses indulged in another sip of champagne.

  “You don’t get it that easy,” he said, lowering his flute. His eyes danced. “You made me wait after all. You want to know, you get the info with a caveat.”

  I didn’t want to know what happened that bad.

  But I did want to know.

  Playing his game, I deposited another empty flute on the tray of a passing waiter. “What are the terms?”

  And if he said another game of thumb war, I’d laugh him out of this place. We weren’t doing that, ridiculous, but I was curious what he wanted from me.

  Finishing his champagne, Ramses dropped off his flute as well before taking my hand. I started to protest until he pressed his hard body into my side.

  “Come with me,” he said, his voice playful, excited. “I got a place to show you. You agree to check it out, I’ll tell you there. It’s in the city. Won’t take long.”

  He was in no place to bargain with me. Especially if it allowed him to whisk me off someplace.

  Even still, I found myself hard pressed to move, or to push him away.

  This gave him access to me in a way that allowed him to angle his big body around me.

  “Come on, Professor,” he said. “Take a chance? The ball’s in your court again.”

  My lashes flashed. “I came with Professor Donahue. I can’t just leave.”

  What was I saying?

  But the words already came out, a smile to Ramses’s voice.

  “We can be back soon.” His hand escaped mine to find my wrist. “As soon
as you want. Meredith won’t mind. She had no intention of leaving with me tonight, not with all the other money and status in here. I needed a date, and she wanted the ticket. We’re doing each other a favor.”

  Eye candy indeed.

  I guess we were in the same situation. I wasn’t with my date either. Not really.

  But this was just a field trip, what he said.

  I faced him, way too close for my liking, but I was curious.

  “Quick trip?” I asked, studying his eyes, and his danced again.

  “Quick trip.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Bri

  I told Ramses we didn’t have to rush. Why I told him that, I didn’t know, and when I also told him Guy and I drove up to Chicago separately (with also no intention of leaving together), he’d merely shook his head.

  “Of course, you drove separately,” he said, being a smart ass and I was tempted to shove him, flirt with him. It was like automatic when it came to him, which was another solid reason why we shouldn’t be going anywhere together at all.

  Yet, here we were, downtown after I followed behind his Mercedes with my SUV. He’d had us park in alley parking, behind an old brick building that wrapped around the corner. At this point, I wondered what was up with the locale, but I was game. My interest was piqued more than anything. Especially when he said to close my eyes.

  “Just play along,” he said, those ebony dark eyes playful once more. I asked him how I could walk if I couldn’t see.

  That was when his hands pressed over my eyes.

  “What are you doing, Ramses?” I spent more time asking him that, questioning myself and everything I was when we were together. I questioned him all the time yet traveled into the dark with him anyway.

  His hard heat came in behind me, his voice low.

  “You can see with me,” he said. “Trust me.”

  It wasn’t him I didn’t trust. It was myself, and though he wasn’t my student anymore…

  I still let him lead me into the dark, whatever this was. The indicator was creaking floorboards under my heels, an aged smell, earthy and maybe the brick around me. Once inside and out of the chill, he stole my coat away from me, the room warm. He still urged me to keep my eyes closed, and I laughed while he did something with my coat. I stayed in the middle of wherever we were.

  His hand came to my eyes again, a gentle press as he loomed near. “I’m going to stay behind you.”

  “Why?”

  Laughter in his voice. “It’s the only way I’m brave enough to show you this.”

  So, he had his weak points, too? I knew that. He’d shown me on multiple occasions.

  We kept showing each other parts of ourselves we didn’t necessarily want to expose. That was the big reason why we’d become friends, as short as that’d been.

  My throat jumped.

  “I’d never laugh at you.” And I wouldn’t. “Whatever this is. I wouldn’t laugh.”

  His soft chuckle hit the air. Even still, he stayed behind while he lifted his hand from my eyes. I kept them closed until he told me it was okay to open.

  “What do you think?” he gruffed, still behind me. “I want your opinion.”

  Honestly, I was still focused on his presence behind me. How he smelled so familiar, all heat and solid man. He remained that close, but I did open my eyes, and well, I was surprised.

  My eyes adjusted to dim light, low-hanging light fixtures above. On that aged brick hung works of art, paintings.

  And so many.

  Countless pieces decorated the room, many spotlighted, which was why the actual room’s lights shined so dimly. Too much light would distract from the main pieces, and there were sculptures as well.

  Mostly metal, they were displayed about the room and reminded me of pieces I’d seen before.

  I cuffed my elbows. “It’s an art gallery,” I said, obvious. He was still behind me, and I faced him. “You’re showing me an art gallery?”

  Curious indeed, Ramses with few words. In fact, his hands in his pockets, he rocked on his heels.

  As if he was nervous.

  Ramses wasn’t a nervous person. At least, never in front of me. He bumped his big shoulders. “What do you think of it? The place and the setup of everything, I mean.”

  Well, it was nice, I suppose. I’d been in quite a few art galleries. I’d actually lived in Manhattan for a time with my ex. In fact, most of our marriage.

  I wondered why Ramses wanted my opinion on this place now, but since I was curious, I played along. The place was stunning really, very modern and classy.

  “It’s lovely,” I said, and he visibly sighed. I almost chuckled, but I’d promised him I wouldn’t laugh. “Why?”

  “Well, I bought it,” he stated—he bought it, like that was obvious. He shrugged. “You’re the first to see it.”

  I was?

  And he’d bought an… art gallery?

  I didn’t know why or, well, any of this, but Ramses broke the tension when he laughed. He scratched a finger behind his neck. “But you like it?”

  “I do.” I shook my head with a smile. “But I thought you were working for your family.”

  “I am. I do.” He put his hands out, stressing the fact. He pocketed them. “I suppose this is a passion project. I hope the first of many.”

  I thought he’d expand on this, but before I knew it, he was taking my hands.

  “Come on.” He backed up, guiding me in front of him. “I wanna show you the best part.”

  The best part turned out to be in the back, a studio of sorts when Ramses flicked on the lights. In fact, it was a studio. Both what appeared to be finished and unfinished pieces were situated across the room. Many he had under tarps, but the ones he didn’t were all done in metal. He had power tools around and the materials used to create the works. Quite a few of them sat in various stages, and I realized how quiet it’d gotten since we came into this room.

  “You’re making these.” He wasn’t just making them. He made them. I studied him. “Did you make everything out there…”

  “Oh, no.” He chuckled. “I acquired most of the pieces on the main floor. I’m completely amateur, but yes, I made all this stuff in here. I dabble. Art’s my minor. Business, my major.”

  This was more than dabbling. This was passion, and just like he’d stated out on the showroom.

  I ventured toward one of his pieces, his style abstract. I knew a lot of people who’d buy work such as this. Hell, I’d bought work like this to decorate our brownstone in Manhattan. Of course, the purchases had been frivolous and the first to go in the divorce. I had money like that, so I spent it.

  If I had these, though, what Ramses had made, I wouldn’t have sold any of it. “This isn’t amateur.”

  “Go on.”

  “I’m serious.”

  “No, seriously go on. It’s all I can do not to freak that I’m actually showing you this.” His laughter was light as it hit the air, and I realized his cheeks were red. I’d never seen shy or vulnerable Ramses like this. It was completely flooring him that he was showing himself in this way.

  And I liked it.

  I didn’t know why, but I did. I guess I liked that he was showing me this part about himself. That I was the first he showed.

  I studied the room a bit before he joined me at my side. “So, you’re going to sell your art here?”

  “I’m going to feature it. The point of this place was to get into the game, though, and the only way my financial advisors didn’t completely look at me like I was crazy. My family does real estate and development. We have a few small businesses too, but nothing quite like this. This isn’t even in the same ball park.”

  “So why did you do it?” Why did he show me he was doing it? Something like this seemed very special to him and basically confirmed what I’d seen at his place on campus. Ramses lived the secret life of an artist, and people like that, it wasn’t always easy to show that part of themselves.

  “I suppose to
prove that I could.” He faced me. “I have a tendency of not going toward the things that speak to me. I’m trying to not default to that. To take chances. At least more of them.”

  “And the reason for the change of heart?” I asked the question upon a glance of the room, so bouncing back, my gaze collided with his. It stopped me in my tracks as it always had.

  Even from day one.

  The first day he’d stood in front of me in a suit, brave enough to challenge me to a dare. I won, and he’d leave me. He’d actually said that like the odds weren’t stacked in his favor. I think he’d known the probability of his chances to win.

  He directed his gaze down on me from above, his jacket tight with his thick shoulders. He hadn’t come in with his coat on at all, bearing the cold and this man physically stunned in front of me. Without his hair, I could see his eyes, his soul, too, probably if I looked hard enough. He took a step forward, but before he could speak, I asked for the rest of the tour. He hadn’t shown it all.

  We should see it all.

  “Of course,” he said. I noticed he was slow to retreat. He struck off the lights behind me, leaving the room dark, then I followed his big frame through the rest of the place. I guess the studio was someplace he could work since he came to the city a lot. He explained his family also had properties out here too.

  Ramses proved to be a man of the world, and this little slice he had of it ended up in his office.

  His display was very simple in there: a Mac, large granite desk, and a couch. The couch actually had blankets on it.

  “Sorry,” he apologized immediately upon getting inside. He grabbed and quickly balled up the blanket. “I slept here last night. I was in the city to prepare for the charity event. Decided to do some work here in the studio. Never left as you can see.”

  He had nothing to apologize for. I liked his dedication. This, what he was doing here, seemed like it should be his full-time job, but I understood his obligations to his family. Sometimes our calling didn’t always match with what was predetermined for us. But kudos to him for trying to find a balance between both.

  “You promised me a story,” I said once we got inside. “I come with you here, check all this out, and I get a story.”