by Zoe Blake
Maybe I shouldn’t have started by thanking him for the brooch? Did that make me sound like the gift was my top priority?
He probably thinks I’m a gold digger now. Dammit.
I shouldn’t have included the winking emoji. It made me look immature. I imagine the femme fatales he’s probably dating would die before texting a man like Richard a winking emoji.
Picking up my phone, I fired off a quick text.
Me: Nothing. Nothing! Nooooottthhhinnngggg!!
Jane: Jeez! He’s a busy guy + he’s like forty. They don’t text.
Me: :(
Jane: ;)
Me: Do you think my text was lame?
Jane: Nope.
Me: *sigh*
Jane: Tell Professor Hands I said hi.
Tossing my phone in my messenger bag, I tried for the hundredth time to focus on my classwork. After finishing pinning the peasant blouse pattern to my fabric, I got out my shears to begin cutting.
“Take care not to bunch the fabric,” came a voice over my shoulder. Looking up, I took in my teacher’s bland expression. Everything about him was bland… and brown, from his hair to his eye color to his shirt. Unfortunately, his bland expression belied the hand currently resting on my lower back, dangerously close to my ass.
He made sure he was facing away from the class and was certainly acting as if it were an unconscious gesture, but I knew better. Professor Hands.
Just as I twisted my hips in a subtle gesture to dislodge his hand, although I would have vastly preferred just hauling off and slapping him, I heard the dark rich tones of the voice that now haunted my dreams.
“My apologies for interrupting your class, Professor Handleson.”
No!
Turning quickly, I dropped my shears. They landed handle up on my boot toe. Not as bad as the sharp end but it still hurt. Blinking several times as I hopped on one foot, I still could not believe, or didn’t want to believe, what I was seeing.
Richard was here, inside my school.
Leaning against the doorframe, he looked impossibly handsome in a dark wool, double-breasted overcoat and black Fedora.
“Is that this season’s Casentino Ulster coat from Rubinacci?”
Grimacing, I didn’t even try to hide my annoyance as I glared at Karen across the classroom. Annoyed she knew not only it was a Victorian-style Ulster coat but who the designer was and yes, more than a little annoyed at the appreciative tone of her voice as she inspected Richard.
Back off, Karen. He’s mine.
“I’m sorry. We are in the middle of class, who are you?”
“Richard Payne the Third, Duke of Winterbourne.”
There was a collective gasp across the classroom.
Professor Handleson straightened and hurriedly shifted between the various sewing tables to the front of the classroom.
“Your Grace, it is an honor. I have long admired the meticulous bespoke tailoring of your suits.”
Richard pointedly looked down at Handleson’s outstretched hand and then back up at him without extending his own. Stepping past my professor, he took off his hat and methodically unbuttoned his coat. Shrugging out of it, he slung it over Handleson’s desk, toppling a mug full of scissors and pens and scattering a pile of papers.
Leaning against the desk, he crossed his arms over his chest and looked down. We all watched in suspended animation, waiting to see his next move. Richard took a deep breath and without even bothering to look up, he demanded, “Leave.”
Several students exchanged confused glances while a select few began to grab their belongings.
Looking up, Richard pierced the room with a hard cobalt gaze. “Now,” he barked.
The entire room burst into a hive of activity. Students quickly snatching up the fabric from our current project and shoving it into purses and backpacks. A few daring souls tried to secretly grab a photo of Richard on their phones. For all the bustle, it was strangely silent, as if no one dared speak, not even my teacher to refute Richard’s command.
Richard turned his head, pinning Handleson to the spot. Sensing this was my moment, I reached behind me for the peasant blouse I had just begun to cut out, at the same time slowly bending my knees to retrieve my messenger bag off the floor.
It was obvious Richard was angry. No, not just angry. Furious.
Even from across the room, I could see the tense line of his shoulders inside his navy and hunter green chalk stripe suit. The stern set of his jaw and the furrowed brow were also a dead giveaway.
Keeping my eyes downcast, I tried to blend in with the other fleeing students.
“Not you, Elizabeth.” His tone was quiet and horrifyingly controlled.
My shoulders hunched up as I stopped in my tracks.
Handleson finally found his tongue. Throwing his chest out in a rather pathetic attempt to look intimidating, he sputtered, “See here. What right do you have barging in here and ordering my students about?” He looked like one of those little birds that tweak and flutter around a lion.
Trying to become as invisible as possible, I shrank down into one of the now vacant seats in the back.
Immediately homing in on my small movement, Richard’s gaze swung to mine. The hunter spotting its vulnerable prey.
My throat went dry as he slowly straightened and walked toward me. My head dropped low, hiding my face behind my hair. It was childish and immature but I couldn’t help it.
His polished leather loafers came into view as I stared at the linoleum floor.
Clutching my bag close to my middle, I waited for him to speak first. I had no idea what he was angry about, I just desperately hoped it wasn’t at me.
A single strong finger slipped beneath my chin and forced my head up. He was already significantly taller than me but looking up at him from my seated position was tantamount to staring at a massive granite statue from flat on the ground. Granite was a good term for the stony look on his face. It was as if he was keeping his face deceptively passive by force of will alone.
He pushed back a strand of hair that had fallen over my right eye. Tucking it behind my ear, he said, “What made you think you could touch what was mine?”
My eyebrows shot up. What? I didn’t understand. It was then I realized he wasn’t talking to me.
“Answer me, Handleson.”
Placing his hands on his hips, Professor Handleson stammered, “There was no… it’s close quarters… it might have seemed to the untrained eye….”
Pulling my messenger bag from my clutches, Richard set it aside, out of my reach, and placed both hands on my shoulders, lifting me till I was standing before him like an errant child.
Gesturing with his head, he said, “Just outside that door is a man in my employ named Harris, I want you to go with him.”
“Go with him? I can’t. I have another class.”
“Elizabeth, that wasn’t a request.”
My mouth opened in shock at his stern tone.
My mistake was not moving to obey.
Slipping his hand around my neck, he pulled me in close. The edge of his emerald green silk pocket square flicked at my nose. I could smell his sandalwood aftershave and just a hint of tobacco. Not stale and acrid like cigarette smoke; richer and spicier, like a cigar. I could easily imagine him having spent his afternoon lunch in some swanky men’s club smoking while discussing world affairs with other billionaire tycoons.
Leaning in, he murmured into my ear, his breath warm with a hint of peppermint, “Don’t make me punish you here.”
My hands began to shake as the blood in my veins went cold. Punish me?
Not daring to ask him to return my messenger bag, I backed away, one step then two, afraid to take my eyes off him. It wasn’t until I reached the door that I turned and fumbled with the knob before escaping to the cool interior of the hall.
A man dressed all in black with a bowler hat covering a slightly pock-marked face with a visibly misshapen nose stepped forward.
“Ms. Larkin,
if you would come with me.”
Seeing no choice in the matter, I silently nodded.
As I followed Harris down the fluorescent-lit hallway, there was the unmistakable sound of shattering glass from within my classroom.
Chapter 13
Richard
The idiot threw a mug at me.
A mug.
Deflecting it with my forearm, I watched with detachment as it shattered. Then I looked up at the idiot… and smiled. Reaching for the buttons on my jacket, I began to unbutton each one.
“What are you smiling about?”
I shrugged out of my jacket.
“I’m going to call for security.”
Removing my cufflinks and rolling up my sleeves, I finally looked at him. “It will be interesting how you explain throwing a mug at a member of the House of Lords.”
“Listen. This is all just a big misunderstanding.” Handleson threw his hands up as he backed a few steps away.
“So, what you’re saying is I didn’t see your hand on my woman’s ass?”
Handleson laughed nervously, as he swept his sleeve over his brow. “No, see, that’s what I’m talking about. I wasn’t even touching her. It must have been the angles.”
The corners of my mouth downturned as I nodded. “Angles?”
“Yes. Angles.”
“So, you’re saying I’m wrong.”
“Yes. Totally wrong.”
Stepping around the desk, I struck out at him. Grabbing him by the throat, I ignored his clawing hands as he tried to dislodge my grasp. Easily lifting him a foot off the floor, I took several steps forward and slammed him against the wall. “Here’s the problem, Handleson.” I leaned in close. “I’m never wrong.”
Drawing my arm back, my free hand curled into a fist before laying one into his middle. With distaste, I watched his body crumple to the floor. Curling my lip as he pathetically tried to slide away while still being cramped into the fetal position, I warned him, “If you ever… ever… go near her again or say one god damn word about her or this to anyone… well, I’ll leave the dire consequences up to your imagination. Have I made myself clear?”
Racked with coughs, Handleson could only nod.
Rolling my sleeves back down, I slipped my arms into my jacket while pocketing the cufflinks. “I’ve looked into you, Handleson. Turns out you have a rather unsavory reputation for touching the women in your classes. Then threatening them with a poor grade if they report you. Professor Hands is I believe what you’re called.”
I ordered an investigative report done on all of Elizabeth’s teachers last week; it only hit my desk this morning. The moment I saw the notes on this asshole, realizing Elizabeth was at this very moment in his class, I cancelled the rest of my meetings and decided to pay her a visit. I knew a lowlife like him wouldn’t be able to keep his grimy hands off her.
Inhaling a deep breath through my nose, I reined in the anger that still boiled just beneath the surface at the sight of his hand on her hip. He dared to touch what was mine. Under normal circumstances I would have beat the man to a pulp, and still might, but that would have to wait till later. While an investigation could easily be squashed, I didn’t want the distraction. All of my energy was focused on Elizabeth and my plans right now.
By now Handleson was sliding on the floor through the dregs of coffee grounds and smashed porcelain of the mug he had thrown.
“If you know what is good for you, you will announce a family emergency which takes you out of the country for the foreseeable future. Do you understand me, Handleson?”
“Yes! Yes,” he croaked.
“If I ever hear of you touching a student… any student… again, I’ll see my promise through.”
Uncaring of his feeble, mumbled response and trusting my point had been made, I stepped over him, grabbed Elizabeth’s messenger bag, and left the classroom.
Time to deal with Elizabeth.
The black sedan was rocking slightly as muffled shouts from the interior could be heard as I approached, my attention divided between the car and searching Elizabeth’s mobile phone. Her password was literally her birthday. This kind of adorable innocence was why she needed me in her life. I needed to protect her from herself and others. People took advantage of her perfect combination of beauty, intelligence, and naivety.
Well, that was past her now. She had me to deal with everything, whether she liked it or not.
Harris was standing guard outside. Knowing this might be a sensitive situation, I chose to only come here with him as opposed to bringing along my usual driver. As personal security, no one was more loyal to me. Rescuing a man from being beheaded by the Taliban will do that. That kind of loyalty came in handy for… other jobs as well.
Harris nodded toward the school building. “Any cleanup?”
Tossing a look over my shoulder, I shook my head. “No.” Reaching for the door handle, I instructed, “Keep the divider up and just drive around until I tell you otherwise.”
Harris nodded and circled around the car to the driver’s side. He was always a man of few words. That was also one of the things I liked about him.
Bracing myself for the impact of her anger, I took a deep breath and opened the car door.
Greeted by a litany of curses and shouts, I stepped in and quickly shut and locked the doors.
“Are you crazy? Are you completely insane? Seriously, have you lost your mind?”
After rapping on the roof of the car with my knuckles, I waited till the car began to pull away from the curb before I turned to her.
“Is that my phone?” She snatched it from my hand. “Did you go through my phone?”
“His hand was on your body.”
Elizabeth sighed. “He has a reputation. I was handling it.”
“Really?”
“Yes. Look, it’s not the first time some guy’s tried to cop a feel. I was shifting away. Besides, I was smart, I made sure I wore jeans and a sweater in his class.”
I ran a hand over my face, forcing myself to stay calm. “Let me get this straight. You were forewarned of this man’s reputation and instead of avoiding the situation entirely, you thought covering that beautiful ass of yours in denim was an acceptable solution?”
Elizabeth bit her lip. Under another circumstance I would find the gesture incredibly arousing. This was not one of those occasions.
“Well, when you put it that way—”
“What other way should I put it, Elizabeth?”
“I didn’t have a choice. His class is a requirement.”
“Which is why you are withdrawing from that school. I will make other arrangements for your education.”
A heavy silence fell over the interior of the car as the weight of my words sank in.
“I must not have heard you correctly.”
Turning my shoulders, I faced her square on. “Yes. You did.”
Her eyes widened as she snatched at the strap of her bag and pulled on the car door handle, despite the fact we were moving through traffic.
“Unlock this door,” she demanded through clenched teeth.
“No.”
Yanking on the handle again, she raged, “I mean it. I want out of this car. Unlock the door, Richard.”
Her emerald eyes glimmered with anger as a frustrated blush crept up her high cheekbones. She really was beautiful when angry. Like a rare bird flapping its brilliant plumage in an attempt to deter a predator.
It wouldn’t work.
Her pink lips parted as she took in a breath. Interlacing her fingers, she placed them in her lap and looked up at me. She was going to try to reason with me. Adorable.
“You can’t really think that I’m going to drop out of school? I’m here on a student visa. I would have to leave the country.”
“Your permanent visa is already being taken care of.”
“What do you mean—” She took another breath and tried a half smile. “Let’s back up here.” Flipping her hands between us, she said, “We have onl
y just met, as in three days ago. Don’t get me wrong, I like you. I really like you but you can’t expect me to change my entire life for a guy I’ve just met.”
That was where she was wrong.
It wasn’t her fault. She needed to learn that I was in charge now.
“I want you to listen very carefully because, as I know I have mentioned before, I don’t like repeating myself,” I growled.
Elizabeth stilled her frantic efforts to leave the car. Her body tensed as she refused to meet my gaze. Good, my little bird was smart enough to realize she had crossed the line. Daddy was angry now.
Fisting her loose locks in my hand, I forced her head back. “Apparently, I haven’t made myself clear these past two nights, so let me be very clear now. You’re mine. End of story. And what’s mine, I protect.”
Watching the movement of her throat as she swallowed nervously, vivid memories of my shaft shoved down her throat not twelve hours earlier came back fierce and strong, sending blood straight to my cock.
Enough with words.
My mouth crashed down onto hers as I pushed her against the back cushions. I needed to erase the memory of another man’s hands on her. Struggling in my embrace, she kept her teeth clamped shut as she tried to turn her head away. Twisting my fist in her hair, my free hand cupped her jaw, pressing the tips of my fingers into her cheeks till the pain forced her mouth open.
I then claimed what was mine.
Sweeping my tongue in to taste her fear, I kept my grip on her face to make sure she didn’t bite down. Her legs kicked out as I swallowed her screams. Pushing my other hand between her thighs, I palmed her pussy through the denim.
It wasn’t long before she was grabbing my hair and moaning as she pressed her body against my hand. Flicking the button to her jeans, I slowly pulled down the zipper. Curious, I spared a quick glance to check the color of her panties. They were a pale pink with little white polka dots. I teased the edge with a single fingertip. Caressing her flat stomach as I pulled her panties down.