Beauty and the Billionaire

by Claire Adams

  I hugged him tight and pretended I didn't hear the insistent knocking on the front door. "So, now what?"

  His hands traveled down to the hem of the loose-fitting Landsman shirt I was wearing. Ford tickled my bare thigh. "You might want to put some clothes on before I let security in," he said.

  I frowned but headed to the bedroom and gathered my clothes. It only took a few moments to tug on my jeans, slip on my bra and shirt, and rake my fingers through my hair. Ford was surprised I pulled myself together so quickly.

  He held out his hand and threaded his fingers through mine. "Ready?" he asked.

  I thought I was, but the trembling wave I had been holding back finally broke loose. Tears overflowed and I collapsed into Ford's arms with a ragged sob. "This is all my fault. All of it. This whole big mess started because my father wanted to help me. How could I let it turn out this way?"

  "You're not in control, Clarity. You can't take the blame," Ford soothed me. "You're doing the best you can to help your father, and you are doing more than a lot of people would dare."

  I wrapped my arms around his waist and refused to let him go. "I'm not letting you answer the door. They can't break it down."

  Ford dropped a kiss on the top of my head. "Don't be mad at the campus security."

  A surge of anger propelled me out of Ford's arms. I paced around his small living room. The spilled wax from last night's candles plus our forgotten wine glasses still stood on the coffee table. We had been so hopeful, so happy.

  "I can't believe the bad guy is going to get away with it," I shrieked. "How can you stand it?"

  Ford caught me in his arms again. "We can only control our own actions and the information we present to others. Michael Tailor has to live with his own actions and we can't force him to feel badly about his choices."

  "How about your choices? Our choices?" I asked. I gestured to the rumpled sofa and the evidence of our passionate night.

  "I don't regret a single thing," Ford said. His kiss sealed my lips and I felt one layer of worry lift.

  "Please don't open the door," I pleaded.

  Ford slipped out of my hold and unlocked the door. He stood back and welcomed the Landsman College security guards inside. "Good morning, gentlemen. You'll have to give me a few more minutes to pull myself together. I understand we're heading to the police station."

  The head of security nodded, but none of the men in the doorway moved. Ford laughed when he realized my razor-sharp glare was the cause of their hesitation.

  "How do we know they're not in the pocket of rich donors too?" I snapped. "I'm sure more than one of them has looked the other way when certain students are caught bending the rules."

  "I'm not gonna lie," Ford said to the guards, "she might bite. But there's fresh coffee in the kitchen and you are more than welcome to grab a cup. I'll only be a few moments."

  Ford saluted them and strolled towards his bedroom. I stomped after him and fought the urge to slam the bedroom door. "What are you doing?" I hissed. "Please tell me you're going to go out the window or something."

  "Why would I run when I'm not guilty?" Ford asked.

  "You offered them coffee!"

  Ford smiled. "Well, it is pretty early in the morning." He caught my pained look and relented. "I'm sorry, Clarity, I know this is upsetting. The men out there are only doing their jobs and I can't take out my frustration on them."

  I pulled open the bedroom door a crack and eyed the security guards. They stood in the doorway with their arms crossed, looking around, but not moving. "What if they're here to plant evidence or something? I bet Michael Tailor's gotten to at least one of them."

  Ford distracted me by stripping off the robe he'd been wearing. He pulled on a clean pair of black dress pants and a crisp, blue button-down shirt. "Know thy enemy," Ford said. He nodded towards the door, "and they are not it."

  Ford opened his bedroom door and called to the security guards. "I suppose I shouldn't wear a belt, right? Any other jail house fashion recommendations? Shoes without laces?" Ford asked. "I'm not too sad about skipping the tie. Ties were never really my thing."

  One security guard smiled, then looked at his colleagues and immediately sobered his expression. Ford walked out of the bedroom and went to his desk. "Hope you don't mind if I send a few emails, quickly."

  "We're not the one the police are waiting for," the head of security said.

  "Exactly," Ford agreed. "And I'm telling you, I'm no expert barista, but I'm betting my coffee tastes a hell of a lot better than the coffee at the police station."

  The one security officer took a step towards the kitchen but the head guard shook his head. "We're ready as soon as you are, Mr. Bauer."

  Ford leaned back in his desk chair and sighed contentedly. "Now that sounds good. The whole 'professor' title never really sat well on me."

  I left him carrying on his relaxed, one-way conversation with the security guards while I slipped into the bathroom. Despite Ford's reassurances, I couldn't follow his easy-going lead. My whole chest was so contracted, I felt like I couldn't get a full breath. It seemed like months since I had had a normal day.

  Everything was tangled together. Meeting Ford, feeling that first electric spark, and then having to extinguish it because he turned out to be a professor had tied me in knots. Then the discovery of the falsified application forms in my father's office. And, now even when the truth was supposedly out in the world, my father was still suspended and Ford was heading to jail.

  I leaned over the sink and gaped at the cold porcelain. Tears wouldn't come but the grip of frustration and fear wouldn't let go. I fought my emotions for a moment, then gave up. I locked the bathroom door and yanked my phone from my pocket.

  "Clarity! I've been worried sick!" my father cried as soon as he answered.

  "Didn't you get my text message? Nevermind, you didn't think to look. I'm so sorry, Dad, I should have called. I'm fine."

  My father took a deep breath. "Where are you? I just called Lexi and told her to keep you off campus. Please tell me you are holed up somewhere safe."

  "I guess that depends on what you mean by safe," I muttered.

  "What?" my father yelped.

  My breath hitched. "I thought we'd all be safe once the truth was out. We published the expose article last night but the blow-back is insane. I didn't think it all the way through; I didn't know this would happen. I'm so sorry."

  "Stop apologizing, Clarity," my father said. "You did the right thing and I'm proud of you. Of course it caused an uproar. You have no idea. They called me in the middle of the night to find out what students have access to the student newspaper website. I told them I couldn't help them."

  I smiled. "That must have caused a whole other uproar."

  My father chuckled. "It’s not my fault they don't keep track of student activities without me. They ended up having to call and wake up the entire IT staff. Those poor Landsman employees had to jump online last night and figure out how to take it all down."

  "Have you been up to campus?" I asked. "From the looks of social media, the students are in an uproar."

  "I'm so glad," my father said. "The student newspaper is built on the right to free speech and any tampering with it should cause an outrage."

  "I'm just worried not enough people saw the article," I sighed.

  "Clarity, please, whatever you do, don't go to campus."

  The tone in his voice sent me into a panic. "What? Why? Is everything all right? Are you all right?"

  "I'm fine. It's just a strange car parked outside our house really early this morning. Two men are just sitting in it, waiting. Lexi told me she heard that strange men have been asking around campus after you." My father's voice was strained and tight. "I think they somehow work for Michael Tailor and are trying to deliver some sort of message or threat."

  I steadied my voice. "Maybe lurking around is the threat. There's no way Tailor would do anything. He's probably just trying to intimidate us."

&nbs
p; "Well, it's working on me at least," my father snapped. "Please don't go on baiting these people. Can you promise you'll stay put? Where are you?"

  "I'm at Ford's apartment. I've been here all night." I pushed on, hoping my father wouldn't pause to think of what that admission suggested. "And I'd love to promise that we're staying put, but campus security is here. The president of Landsman College just called to tell Ford the guards are going to escort him to the police station. He's being charged with libel."

  "Campus security?" my father asked. "The president can't do that. This is not a college matter. I mean, it's tangled up with people that work at the college, but he cannot be compromising the safety of the students by sending the security guards to babysit an unruly faculty member."

  "Oh, don't worry," I joked. "I'm pretty sure if he hasn't been fired, then Ford has quit."

  "Even better," my father returned. "They're harassing an ex-employee. Listen, I've got an idea. Jackson Rumsfeld's wife is a defense attorney."

  "Alice?" I asked, remembering her from Thanksgiving.

  "Yes, and she's got quite an unshakeable reputation. I'll give her a call and see if she can advise Ford at all."

  It was relief to hear my father's confidence return. "What can I do?" I asked him.

  "Wait there. Stall the security guards and don't let Ford leave. I'm on my way, darling. We're all on the way to help."

  The knock on the bathroom door made me jump a foot in the air. My phone clattered into the sink and I fished it out.

  "Clarity? I don't think we can stall much longer. I thought you were ready?" Ford asked.

  "Nope, not quite. In fact, I might take a shower," I said.

  Ford rattled the door knob. "Unlock the door, Clarity. This isn't necessary. I'm ready to take my lumps. It'll be fine; you'll see. Journalists shouldn't have anything to fear from the authorities. I know my rights."

  I unlocked the door and yanked it open. "Well, I'm sorry, we didn't quite get to that lesson in class before all this happened."

  Ford smiled and leaned on the door frame. "I think it's already been established that I'm not the best professor."

  I crossed my arms tight. "What am I supposed to do while you're being dragged off by security?"

  He stood up and took my hand. "First, I think you should come out here and tell them about your fears. If you are afraid to set foot on campus, that is more their business than escorting me to the police station."

  I pulled my hand back and refused to leave the bathroom. "I can't believe it. You're having fun with all of this! Maybe the president was right; maybe you somehow brainwashed me."

  Ford arched a dark eyebrow. Deep in his stormy-gray eyes was a blue sparkle. "You're mad because I'm happy?"

  "Yes! How can you be happy with this insane mess? I don't want you to be sued for libel. It's not funny," I snapped.

  Ford cornered me against the bathroom sink and smoothed his hands over my hair. I put my hands on his chest to push him away but found comfort in the solid warmth of him. He sighed happily as I rubbed my hands over his chest and brought them up to circle around his neck.

  "You want to know why I'm acting this way?" Ford asked.

  "Yes, I think you're entirely too happy for a man about to be dragged out of his apartment by security," I said.

  He leaned down and brushed his lips across mine. His mouth returned to deepen the kiss and suddenly the whole world was far away. "This," he whispered. "This is why I'm happy. The rest is just incidental. This is the only thing that really matters to me."

  Ford punctuated his words with a deeper, hungry kiss that left me loose and blissful.

  A rough, impatient throat-clearing interrupted us from just outside the bedroom door. Ford chuckled and sighed, but I felt a flare of bright anger.

  I shoved past Ford and marched to the door. The head of campus security stepped back as I stepped up to him and poked him in the chest. "You know this is wrong and you should be disgusted. Since when is it your job to go off campus to deal with faculty issues?"

  "Ms. Dunkirk—"

  "No, you listen to me," I snapped. "It goes completely against your job description to leave the campus at such a volatile time."

  "Volatile?" his voice was gruff.

  I brushed past him and went to the computer. Social media was plastered with photographs and videos of students organizing to protest. It looked like very few Landsman students were actually in class. My heart leapt with pride but I kept my face stony as I showed the head of security.

  "Doesn't it fall to you to make sure situations like this do not get out of control? Don't you think that's more important than this little errand for the president?" I asked.

  Ford sauntered out of the bedroom and joined us at the computer desk. "How about we go now and let these nice gentlemen get back to campus? Maybe you can go with and help them find out who is threatening you."

  "Someone threatened you?" the head of security asked.

  "Yes," I snapped. "You really haven't been listening to us at all, have you?"

  The poor man rubbed the back of his neck and considered his options. He was clearly in the wrong place at the wrong time. The computer loaded new images of a restless student population and a bead of sweat broke out on his forehead.

  "Now this looks like a party," Jackson called from the doorway.

  Ford laughed and went over to shake hands with his friend. "Please tell me you aren't skipping class. I wouldn't want your truancy added to my long list of infractions," Ford said.

  "Class? It's kind of hard to have class when all the students are on the lawns getting ready to protest. Seems like security is ... oh, wait, looks like security is right here," Jackson eyed the guards.

  "Actually, they're just leaving." Alice marched into the middle of the room and, despite her small stature, captured everyone's attention.

  Jackson wiped the smile from his face and the security guard's followed suit. They stepped back and gave her the floor.

  All but the beleaguered head of security, who rubbed his neck again and scowled at Alice. "And who's this now?"

  Alice had to crane her neck to meet the tall security guard's gaze, but it didn't diminish her command of the situation one bit. "I am Ford Bauer's defense attorney. And here is a written agreement from the judge that will be reviewing this case outside of court. The judge also kindly reminded the police that they do not have enough to charge Ford, so they cannot hold him. I am currently working with them to schedule a deposition. Until then, your presence is not required. In fact, your presence has very strange implications, don't you agree?"

  Ford laughed. "Clarity pointed that out to them early."

  "She's right," Alice snapped. She marched to the door and held it open. The security guards filed out and she slammed it behind them.

  Ford slipped an arm around my waist. "Clarity's more than that," he admitted.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Ford

  I listened carefully the stranger presiding over the court. He was younger, affecting a sterner face than was necessary, and he was acutely aware that everyone was watching how he worked. My attention, however, was caught by Clarity.

  She sat in the first row and tapped her foot impatiently. No signs of any other stress besides boredom showed in her face. I knew the signs, I'd seen them sometimes in class. Clarity was done with this and ready to move on.

  Nothing, not even what the judge was about to say, could make me any happier than that.

  "Mr. Bauer, are you listening?"

  "Yes, your honor. I am guilty as charged," I said.

  The makeshift court snickered, but the interim dean of students silenced them with a glance. "We don't normally associate guilt with good aspects, though I was explaining to the students your reputation for pursuing the truth no matter the professional or personal consequences," he said.

  Clarity smiled, and I knew the small curve of her lips was just for me. At that moment, I would have walked through fire for her, but all
I needed to do was face the Honor Council and hear the verdict.

  "You say it like he's being all noble, but he's a few years too late, don't you think?" Libby interrupted the interim dean of students.

  I watched as Clarity's father, the former dean, whispered in his daughter's ear and she smiled wider. Everything was going to be all right. If Clarity could put my mistake in the past, then so could Landsman College.

  "Ms. Blackwell, we've heard quite enough from you. More than necessary, in fact. I believe I can speak for the entire Honor Council when I say that your testimony sounded more like bragging to an audience."

  "What does that have to do with anything?" Libby demanded. "Professor Bauer's the one that overstepped the rules and had relations with me. Was that stated prudishly enough for you, judge?"

  The interim dean of students looked at Libby over the top of his glasses and tried to ignore how everyone in the room looked to Patrick Dunkirk. "Your obvious enjoyment at relating the details of your 'relations' was more than enough to convince the court that you enjoyed the situation. Now, your interruptions are not in the spirit of the Honor Council and I have to ask you to stop speaking."

  Clarity's father leaned back and glanced around the room. He was in a Polo shirt and khakis on campus for the first time. The early-retirement look was good on him, especially coupled with a navy blue sport coat that still leant him an air of professional wisdom. His replacement looked at him briefly before addressing the assembled students.

  "I would ask that the Honor Council please remember that it was Ford Bauer himself that brought this infraction to light. Despite the lapse in time, it was Mr. Bauer that decided to confess to breaking the rules of propriety, and not Ms. Blackwell," the interim dean said. He wiped his brow with a white handkerchief and shuffled his notes. "To own up to a past indiscretion is the mark of maturity as is the willingness to face the consequences."

  Clarity gave an audible sigh. Her father nudged her in the ribs, but had to smother his own smile behind a fake yawn.

  Libby fluctuated between flipping her hair, giving flirty looks to the male members of the Honor Council, and glaring at me. She had not managed to mount any kind of case, especially not when she ranted at the council about how she had pursued me and been rebuffed. She even quoted my use of the rules as protection against her solicitations.