Filthy Professor: A Bad Boy Professor Romance

by Amy Brent

  “I won’t ever come near him again, I swear. As soon as this baby is born I’ll disappear out of your life forever.”

  Marina sighed and it felt like she was a mother that listened to the stupid excuses of her child. I’d really messed up.

  “Do you know how it feels to have your whole life ripped away from you?” she asked. The guilt got bigger and bigger until it felt like it was suffocating me. “Especially when you’re traded for a younger model, one that can have children.”

  Shit. This was getting worse and worse.

  “I’m so sorry. I never meant for this to happen. I didn’t think—”

  “That’s it. You’re getting there,” she interrupted me. “You didn’t think.”

  “I really have to go to class.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. You have to get back to your life. I’ll let you do that. It’s a pity I don’t have a life to get back to anymore.”

  I didn’t know what to do, what to say. I turned and started walking away from her. She grabbed my hair from behind and yanked back. Pain shot through my skull and I fell backward. I hit the floor with one hand. Pain flooded my wrist and my back. Marina stood over me and fear clawed at my throat. I thought about screaming.

  “Please,” I pleaded. She smirked and stepped back. I rolled onto my side and tried to get up. I saw her foot pull back and I knew what was coming. It all happened in slow motion and I still couldn’t stop it. I was on my side, my belly exposed. The toe of her nude shoe came toward me with full force.

  “The baby,” I started staying, but then she kicked me and I cried out, the scream drowning out the rest of my sentence. I felt something inside me rip. The pain was unbearable. I heard Marina laugh somewhere in the distance but it was fading away. Warmth between my legs, liquid, lots of it. I looked down and saw blood. Too much blood.

  “Help,” I tried to scream but my voice had gone hoarse. My throat was raw. Blood rushed in my ears and the world started to blur. Marina disappeared and it was just me. I tried to drag myself up but the pain in my belly flooded my body and I collapsed again whimpering. I curled into a ball, hoping to make it less. Hoping to hold onto the baby, the little boy or girl who was bleeding out. I tried to be the mother I would never be able to be and save my child. Not theirs, mine. My baby in my belly. It would be too late. There was no one around, the campus was empty now. I looked up at the sky, the patches of blue through the leaves, the green. I closed my eyes and let darkness fold around me, taking me away. The last thing I heard was the sound of my heart, breaking.

  Mark

  Everything in the hospital was white. White sheets, white walls, white floors, white monitors. Everything was white when I needed it to be black. Black was the color of mourning.

  A student who had seen the whole thing had called 9-1-1. The ambulance had arrived ten minutes later. The police had followed suit. They had reacted as fast as they possibly could, and still it might be too late.

  I sat next to her bed, looking at all the lines that ran into her body. Bags of fluid into her IV line. Oxygen into pipes in her nose. A catheter next to the bed. The monitor beeped steadily, albeit it slow, the only proof that she was alive.

  She was pale. Her hair was matted and pulled back from her face. Her eyes were sunken. Her hands were still. She hadn’t moved from the position on her back since they’d brought her in two days ago.

  It felt like I was running on life support, too. Every inch of my being only lurched forward when the monitor beeped with another pulse of her heart. People came to see her and left again. It was her friend, Sharon, that had called me to tell me what had happened.

  The baby was gone. It had been a girl. The pain that had come with the knowledge that she was no longer alive, would never see the light of day, had been as much of a surprise as it had been unbearable. I’d never wanted to be a father, but I’d never wished the child dead. This was unfair. This felt like some kind of punishment for doing the wrong thing, but I hadn’t been punished. It was an innocent child that had taken the fall, and it was unfair.

  I put my hand on Camille’s arm. I’d been sitting here like this since I’d found out. She was warm but there was no life, not really. She wasn’t here. She was somewhere far away, caught up in the web of sorrow and despair and agony of what had happened.

  A police officer knocked on the door before stepping into the room.

  “Mr. Owen, may I talk to you for a moment?”

  I nodded. The police had been in and out of the room since I’d arrived. It was about Marina. They’d arrested her. She needed a lawyer. I wasn’t going to pay for one. She’d hurt the one person that made me feel alive. She’d murdered a child. I didn’t know her. I didn’t know the woman who was my wife.

  “The court date has been set for two weeks from now. I just wanted you to know.”

  They didn’t have to tell me. They kept me updated, anyway. There was something so painful about losing a child the world grieved with you.

  “Thank you, officer.”

  He looked at Camille. “How is she doing?”

  “No better.”

  He nodded. He was the man that had taken Marina into custody. He was one of the first on the scene.

  “We’re all rooting for you, for her.”

  I nodded. I couldn’t say thank you. My voice caught in my throat and if I spoke or even looked at him I would start crying.

  A woman that looked a lot like Camille arrived two days later. She had the same skin, the same hair, the same mouth. Her eyes were gray and she wasn’t smiling. When she saw Camille she clapped her hands to her mouth and started crying. I got up.

  “Are you Camille’s mother?”

  She looked at me and nodded. She touched her daughter’s leg through the covers.

  “I don’t know what’s going on. I don’t understand.”

  I walked out of the room and poured her a cup of water at the water cooler. She took it from me when I walked back into the room and took a sip.

  “Did Camille tell you about the baby?”

  She shook her head, cheeks still wet. I nodded and pulled a chair closer for her.

  “The baby wasn’t hers.”

  I started at the beginning and told her what Camille had done for us, how she’d ended up pregnant, how she lost the baby. Her mother cried the whole way through and my heart went out to her. I put my hand on her shoulder.

  “I’m truly sorry for what your daughter has suffered. I will do everything in my power to make sure she comes out of this and finishes her degree. She only wants to make you proud.”

  The mother, her name turned out to be Tracy, nodded and kept crying. There was nothing more I could do and I felt helpless and in pain. I couldn’t change anything. All the money in the world couldn’t save people.

  She opened her eyes the next morning. I was the first person she looked at.

  “The baby,” she croaked in a voice that was almost non-existent. I looked down at my hands. My lack of answer was enough. When I looked at her again, tears ran down her cheeks. I put a hand on her leg.

  “I’m so sorry.”

  She closed her eyes and nodded. I didn’t know what to do. I felt so damn helpless I wanted to scream.

  “You mother is here.”

  Her eyes widened, fear in them. Just as I said it Tracy walked through the door.

  “Oh, my darling,” she said, crying again. “You should have told me.”

  I left the room, leaving them to talk. There was a lot to say and I was sure I didn’t have to be present for the two of them to make amends.

  Three hours later Tracy popped her head out of the door and said Camille was asking for me. I stood up. Tracy walked to me.

  “You are a good man,” she said. “I don’t always agree with her choices, but you have been here for her when no one else would.”

  She patted my hand and walked away. I wasn’t sure what to say. I walked into the room. Camille’s eyes were puffy from crying and her hands were on her stomach. I
ached for her, feeling her loss and her pain.

  “I’m sorry,” I said.

  “Don’t be. It’s not your fault.”

  I sat down next to her and took her hand. She squeezed it and that small display of life meant more to me than she would ever know.

  “Where is she?”

  I knew who she meant. The baby. They kept her for us.

  “We should name her before we lay her to rest. I’ll arrange a funeral if you’d like.”

  She nodded. That was all we said about it. I changed the topic.

  “Marina has been arrested. There were witnesses on campus that saw what she did. She’s been charged with assault and first-degree murder.”

  Camille swallowed.

  “How are you?”

  I looked at her, frowning. After everything, she was asking about me?

  “It was your baby too.”

  I swallowed down a lump in my throat. “I thought I would lose you. I don’t know what I would have done if you didn’t make it.” My voice cracked and I swallowed again, taking a deep breath. “You’ve come to mean very much to me, Camille. More than anyone before. It might be too early to say this, but I nearly lost you and life is too damn short.”

  I hesitated.

  “I’m in love with you.”

  I watched her face, trying to gauge her reaction to my words. Her face was soft and she cried again, tears rolling down her cheeks. I gave her a tissue.

  “We’ll get through this together, okay?”

  She nodded. “Together is the only way we’ll be able to do it. I’d like that.”

  It wasn’t an admission of her returned love, but it didn’t have to be. She wanted me with her, to work through this together, and that was all that mattered. We could work out the rest at a later stage when everything that had happened had been laid to rest and we could find it in us to move forward.

  I was still holding her hand. She turned on her side, wincing, and closed her eyes. She took a deep breath and I let her slip back into sleep. Even when she drifted off her fingers still squeezed mine. She didn’t let go, and I didn’t move. I would sit here so she could hold onto my hand for as long as she needed me. I would only let go when she did.

  Camille

  18 months later

  Getting over the death of an unborn child is just as hard as getting over the death of anyone who’d been something in your life. I’d thought it would be easier to move on. It wasn’t. I thought it wouldn’t mean so much to me because she hadn’t been mine, but I’d been wrong about that.

  Mark and I had sat down and we’d named her Breanna. They’d brought her to me in a shoebox, so tiny and frail. She would have been a beautiful child. She’d never belonged to Mark and Marina. She’d belonged to me, and it had been hard letting go.

  Mark had arranged a ceremony for her. Sharon, my mother, Mark and me were the only people that had attended. I wouldn’t have been able to cope if there had been more. My mother had understood what it meant to me. She’d been there for me in a way Mark would never have been able to understand.

  The college had understood what had gone wrong – maybe they’d felt guilty that this had happened on their campus – and I’d been granted an extension. It was a semester later than all my peers, but I was finally graduating.

  I was in a room at Mark’s new house where I was getting ready for the ceremony. He’d sold the house he and Marina had shared and he’d bought this one. It was just as luxurious but it was smaller, cozier. More like Mark.

  My mother helped me with my hair, pinning it to the side. I wore the black toga and she was emotional. Everything about the gambling had come out and she was even more proud of me that I’d done something about it rather than run back home.

  It didn’t make sense to me. In my eyes, I’d just messed up.

  “Mark is going to be here, soon,” she said. I lived here with him. Mama had flown up for the ceremony. She didn’t like the fact that Mark was so much older than me, but she understood that we had been to hell and back together and even she couldn’t deny that something like that forged bonds no one could break.

  “Thank you for being here,” I said and hugged her.

  Mark honked his horn outside the house and we walked out. He came early from the office especially. He got out and opened the car doors for the both of us.

  “You look great,” he said before I got in, kissing me on the mouth. “I’m so proud of you.”

  I smiled and got in the car. We’d been able to move on and I was happy. I was happy with him. I was happy with my life.

  The ceremony was long and boring, with speeches about greatness and tenacity and all that. Our class valedictorian made a speech about moving onward and upward and in it, she mentioned me and how I’d risen despite the odds. It was strange with all the attention on me but I smiled and nodded and hoped they would look away soon.

  When I received my award mama and Mark went crazy. Sharon was there, too, joining in on the fun.

  Afterward, we went to a restaurant, the four of us. It was a posh place, the kind that we’d been going to more often since Mark and I had started dating officially. The staff all knew Mark. I was the young new girlfriend that they’d started getting to know, too, and I got nods and smiles from all around the room. They led us to a private table in the back where the other diners were far enough removed that I didn’t feel like a celebrity. The word of Marina and what she’d done, and what had happened to me, had come out and a lot of people knew me.

  Marina had been sentenced to thirteen years in prison. I hadn’t followed the case. Mark had gone and come back with a sense of closure.

  “I want to make a toast,” Mark said after he ordered champagne. He looked at me.

  “To Camille, who had gone against all odds and come out ahead anyway.”

  Sharon and my mom lifted their glasses and we all drank champagne. The evening was beautiful. Before dessert, mama and Sharon got up.

  “You’re leaving already?”

  Mama nodded. “I’m tired.”

  “And I have a work in the morning.”

  I got up and hugged them both. “Thank you so much. For everything.” I didn’t know where I would have been without them. Mama walked away but Sharon lingered, putting her hands on my face and smiling at me. It was strangely emotional. When she left I frowned at Mark. He shrugged.

  We sat down.

  “Can I order for us?” he asked. I nodded.

  Mark flagged a waiter and picked up the dessert menu, pointing and discussing. The waiter nodded. “For the lady, I’d like your Special,” he said. The waiter smiled.

  “Of course.”

  He disappeared. Mark poured me more champagne and I laughed.

  “At this rate, you’ll get me drunk.”

  “This is just to celebrate.”

  “Another glass?”

  He shrugged. The plates with dessert came. They placed a masterpiece in front of Mark with a chocolate sculpture that looked like it had taken days. I got something similar, except it was with sugar. Underneath the webbed dome of crystallized sugar, instead of cake, sat a black velvet box. I frowned and looked at Mark.

  “What’s this?”

  He shrugged. I lifted the sugary dome and pulled out the box, opening it. In it was a ring with a diamond the size of a pea. My mouth dropped open and I looked at Mark. He’d gone down on one knee next to me.

  “Will you marry me?”

  Oh, God. I was at a loss for words. This was crazy. This was… a dream come true. I smiled, tears stinging the back of my eyes. I nodded.

  Mark took the ring and slid it onto my finger. He got up and kissed me. The waiter removed my plate and replaced it with a dessert similar to Mark’s. I laughed, overwhelmed, and we dug in.

  Life is never predictable, and often our choices lead us in a different direction that we ever could have imagined. If I hadn’t lost all my fortunes in a stupid Blackjack game I would never have met the love of my life. We’d been thro
ugh so much together, the bond between us was stronger than any relationship either of us had ever had.

  There were still times when I thought of Breanna and then I ached for her, craving the feel of her inside of me again. She would always be my first child, but when Mark and I married I wanted to try again. I wanted children of my own, children I could tell about the little girl that should have been.

  But I only wanted to do it when Mark was ready to be a father. I wanted us to be happy together. There was still a lot of time. After all, I’d only just graduated.

  We had the rest of our lives together, and I looked forward to it.

  MY Mr. Dark

  1

  Nicole walked into the club at almost 10:00 PM, her dark eyes scanning the crowd. She'd just gotten done a grueling twelve-hour shift at the hospital, and she was looking to unwind. Most nights she didn't have the energy to go out after such a long day, but tonight had been different. Several gunshot victims had been rushed into the emergency room in critical condition. Two of them hadn't made it, and the third was still in intensive care. After a scene like that, the thought of being home alone in her tiny, quiet apartment was more than Nicole could bear. If she was alone with nothing but her thoughts, she wouldn't be able to get the sights from the emergency room out of her mind.

  She needed to drown the horrifying images out with some hard drinks, some loud music, and if she was lucky, maybe have some dance with a fine looking man.

  She walked up to the bar, running her fingers through her long mass of dark curls. She hadn't taken much time to make herself up that night since she didn't have the time or the energy for a big makeover after such a long and crazy day. She was wearing jeans that hugged her ample hips and did a nice job showing off her well-rounded ass. She had a low-cut, loose fitting top that showed off plenty of her caramel skin. And she had brought a confident attitude that she showed off by flashing a dazzling smile at a few of the young gentlemen she passed. Hopefully, one of them would be enraptured enough to offer to buy her a drink.