by Layla Frost
Despite the ticking countdown, I spent another minute in bed, taking stock of my life.
As of less than twenty minutes ago, I’m unemployed.
Brooks, an amazing guy, is dating someone on a frequent enough basis that the rumor mill is in overdrive.
Meanwhile, I’m secretly sleeping with my professor and letting him spank me, use a crop on me… basically use me in general. Plus, he does a whole load of other magical and stalkerific things that I’m fairly certain are against teacher guidelines.
All in all, my carefully planned life has gone completely off the rails. I no longer have ducks in a row. I have perpetually exhausted racoons.
And they’re at a rave.
And most of them are rolling on E.
And I’ve honestly never been happier.
Practically jumping out of bed, I excitedly got ready for my day, grinning the whole time. With my head filled with thoughts of Damien and his reaction to my employment—or lack thereof—I’d forgotten how fucked-up life could be and how many ways things could go awry.
And how often they did.
*******
“That’s it for the day,” Damien said to the class. “Assignment seventeen due tomorrow by midnight. If you’re planning on plagiarizing your short answers, don’t copy and paste from Wikipedia. I got bored reading the same passage last week.”
There were some quiet snickers mixed with a fair amount of guiltily darting gazes.
I packed my things slowly, but not so slow as to make it look like I was stalling.
Which I was.
“You guilty?” Brooks asked, grabbing his things.
My eyes widened, my chest tightening. “What?”
“Did you copy and paste?”
I’m an idiot.
I answered his non-accusatory question with a head shake. “You?”
“Yeah, but then I use the thesaurus to spice things up. It works well. Or should I say, it works water hole.”
I laughed. “It’s a totally cromulent way to write if it embiggens the smallest man.”
“Classic Simpsons. Nice.” He zipped up his bag and slung it over his shoulder. “This just opened a deep vault of debate and discussion, but I’ve gotta run.”
For a moment, I contemplated asking him what the hurry was in hopes he’d admit he was dating, but quickly decided against it. Beyond the potential for awkwardness, I respected that it was his decision to share and my curiosity could wait.
Not to mention, I had my own vault of secrets to focus on.
Playing clueless, I smiled. “See you Friday.”
Brooks took off, likely to his mystery date, and I finished gathering my things. I was almost to the door when the last student left.
“Fucking finally,” Damien growled. I began to turn to face him, but he said, “Don’t move.”
My heart raced. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, I just love the way your ass looks in those pants and standing down here gives me the perfect view to tide me over until we’re home.”
I shook my head and rolled my eyes, but my insides got all melty.
That’s your opening.
“It’s Wednesday,” I pointed out.
“And?”
I fought to keep my voice even. “I work Wednesdays.”
“No, you used to work Wednesdays. You quit.”
“Wait, what?”
How the hell does he know everything? I really thought I’d finally be able to surprise him.
He climbed the few steps to close the distance between us, his warmth at my back and his voice in my ear. “I told you, Eden, no one sees what’s mine. You’re not giving notice. Not working your two weeks. You’re done.”
His assumption that I’d quit because we were sleeping together irrationally ticked me off. Technically, he was right because I had quit. But he didn’t know that, he was just being bossy.
I whipped around and put my hands on my hips. “That’s not your decision.”
“Yes, it fucking is.” He dropped his head back and inhaled deeply. “You haven’t been to work in a week.”
“I used some vacation days.”
When he met my eyes again, his whole demeanor was different. “Go to class, Eden.”
“No.”
His jaw clenched. “Swear to Christ, you’re not going to be able to sit for a week.”
The fire that’d fueled my anger extinguished, switching to stoke a different blaze. Before I knew what I was saying, I whispered, “Promise?”
Damien’s head went back, his brows shooting up. Anger still glimmered in his gaze, but so did a heat that matched my own.
Try as I might, I couldn’t muster any semblance of my previous attitude. Unbeknownst to him, he’d already won the fight I was trying to pick. My dragging it out wasn’t any better than his bossiness. We needed to talk and set some boundaries, but not right then.
Not when I wanted—no, craved— his reaction to my news.
I’m an idiot to give in. Weak. The very thing I loathed to become.
Or maybe I’d be an idiot to give up something so good just because I think it’s so wrong.
Pushing aside the messy jumble of emotions that twisted inside me, I inhaled deeply.
Before I could share my good news, however, a smattering of voices grew louder as they approached.
“I better go,” I said.
“Text me what you want for dinner,” he called quietly. My stomach fluttered at the intimate domesticity of it until he added, “You’ll need your energy.”
Filthy-sweet.
I was almost to the door when I heard talking outside and stopped dead in my tracks.
That voice.
I know that voice.
Spinning toward Damien, everything I wanted to say stuck in my throat, choking me. He took one look at my panicked, pleading eyes and went alert, but it was too late.
He couldn’t save me.
Chapter Twenty-four
* * *
An Awesome Mic-Drop Exit
Damien
Promise?
I’d threatened to punish Eden, and she’d asked if I promised.
Every time I thought I knew her, she surprised me. And every time I thought I knew the depths of my addiction to her, she said something like that and I fell deeper. Or she smiled, and I fell deeper. Or laughed. Talked. Moved. Breathed. Existed.
I was addicted to all of her, including the attitude she gave me.
Especially that.
Staring at her ass as she walked away, my dick went hard as I pictured her perfect cheeks red and hot. I was about to call her back to me, goad her into giving me more of her attitude, when her body went rigid.
My gaze shot up when she spun around fast. Her face was pale, the mischief and lust that’d lit her eyes was replaced by panic and something I couldn’t read, but it twisted my gut nonetheless. Then it was gone, her expression smoothing out as her eyes went blank. She turned toward the door just as someone knocked on it, though they didn’t wait for a response before entering.
I barely glanced at the man and woman who came in first, my focus on trying to read Eden. When someone else joined them, I turned my attention to see a woman I’d only met a handful of times.
Shit. This is either really good or really bad.
A plastic smile was in place as she gestured in front of her. “Oh, good, we’ve found her.”
Her?
“And we’re in luck,” she continued. “This is the professor I wanted you to meet but wasn’t sure we’d be able to catch. Damien Caine is one of our best, which unfortunately means his time is in high demand.”
Knowing how to play the game, I hid my surprise at the unheard-of visit and acted as though the president of the whole damn university frequently popped into classrooms. I climbed the last couple of steps and offered my hand. “President Diaz, you know I always have room in my schedule for you.”
Eden jolted almost imperceptibly.
If she didn’t
know this was President Diaz, why was she panicking?
President Diaz’s shoulders visibly relaxed, her smile warming as she shook my hand. “And I appreciate it. This is Noah and Ruth Wilkes.”
Recognizing the name immediately, my eyes darted to truly look at the couple. I worked to hide my surprise as I extended my hand to the governor of Iowa.
What the hell warrants this?
“Governor,” I greeted, shaking his hand before switching to his wife’s. “Ma’am.”
President Diaz turned to the couple. “Damien Caine is our professor of political theory. His classes and waitlist fill within five minutes of registration. Of course,” she added giving me a look, “I may have to reconsider your standing at the top since you never shared that one of your students was the daughter of a governor.”
My brows lowered. “Who?”
“Me,” Eden whispered, stepping forward again. There was no emotion in her tone when she looked between the man and woman, saying, “Hi, Dad. Mom.”
I had iron fucking control, but even I couldn’t hide my astonishment at the revelation.
“You didn’t know,” President Diaz surmised from my jaw on the floor.
“Our daughter is very secretive,” the man—Eden’s damn father—said. “Private. Proud. She doesn’t want anyone to treat her different, so she uses my wife’s maiden name to hide.” He offered a politician’s smile. “Or at least try to.”
President Diaz gave a small laugh and looked Eden’s way. Whatever she saw made her wince. “I thought… I mean… I—”
Eden forced a smile. Dull and fake, it hurt to see. “I’m sorry, I’m just so surprised.”
“Your father mentioned you couldn’t make it home for the holidays. They wanted to surprise you,” President Diaz muttered, eying everyone as though she were trying to get a read on the room.
“That’s very thoughtful. Thank you for helping them find me.”
President Diaz beamed. “You’re welcome. I’m going to finish the tour if you’d like to join us.”
I’d thought she was sharp, but it didn’t take a rocket scientist to see that it wasn’t a joyous family reunion. Her relief made me wonder if she was being willfully ignorant or just not paying attention.
“Unfortunately, I have a class I’m already late to.” Eden looked at her parents. “My lunch is at twelve thirty. Would you like to eat in the cafeteria?”
“Not in the cafeteria, baby,” her mom said, each word slurring into the next. “We saw a nice place on our way here. We’ll take you out.”
Fifty bucks says that place has a full bar.
“I’ll meet you at the fountain then. Enjoy the rest of your tour.” She returned her attention to President Diaz. “It was so nice to meet you. Thank you again for showing them around.”
If she’d added a curtsy, I wouldn’t have been surprised.
“My pleasure, Eden,” President Diaz said.
Shoulders back, spine straight, and chin up, Eden practically glided from the room as though she were carrying invisible books on her head.
How did I not know?
“You must be very proud she’s following in your footsteps, Governor Wilkes,” Professor Diaz said. “Ben Peters, the Pol Sci department head, told me she’s one of the best students he’s had. She’s got a mind for politics.”
“It’ll be helpful down the road,” Wilkes agreed, though he didn’t expound or ask any more about his daughter.
For twenty minutes, I stood with my boss and the parents of my student-slash-lover.
Twenty minutes President Diaz spent regaling them with the many attributes the school, the department, and I had to offer, while conveniently mentioning how much was accomplished thanks to generous, tax-deductible gifts.
Twenty minutes Wilkes spent with an affable smile on his face, saying the right things at the right time, and playing the caring politician.
Twenty minutes I’d hoped to spend learning about Eden, but had instead spent trying not to punch her father in his affable face for whatever the hell he’d done to make her live the way she had before me.
And twenty fucking minutes her mom had spent growing sober and shaky until she’d excused herself to the ‘little girl’s room’ and returned swaying.
When they were ready to move on, President Diaz swung her arm out. “There are some lovely murals in this corridor. Please, have a look, and I’ll be right out.”
Ruth Wilkes gave a drunken nod, humming Brick House by The Commodores as she shimmied out to the hallway.
Wilkes watched his wife, disgust clear before he schooled his features and looked at me. “It’s very reassuring to know my daughter is in such capable hands.” I’d have cringed or laughed had he not added, “The skills and knowledge will benefit her when she comes home.”
The hell they will.
And the fuck she will.
She is home.
He glanced toward the door and sighed, speaking low enough so only I could hear. “No one wants an ignorant wife.” Turning, he followed his wife.
It took a moment for the misogyny to sink in.
President Diaz moved before I could, blocking me as her plastic smile practically melted from her face. “That poor girl was practically a robot,” she whispered, making it clear she hadn’t actually believed Eden’s forced responses.
Good to confirm President Diaz is sharper than a balloon.
She grimaced. “I fucked up.”
“You did,” I agreed.
“I could get sued.”
“You could.”
And should.
She’d given out personal information about a student. That they were her parents held no bearing—Eden wasn’t a minor.
“I didn’t know. I got a frantic call from Dean Hoffman’s office this morning, telling me a governor was coming to visit his daughter. I had no clue she hadn’t invited them until I saw that poor girl’s face.” Closing her eyes, she rubbed her temple. “She’s your student, you must know her. Would she sue?”
I shook my head. “I don’t think Miss Wilder is the litigious type.”
Her shoulders slumped. “Well, I hope you’re right. Someone’s losing their job for this, and it sure as hell isn’t going to be me. In the meantime, I’m going to get that asshole to write this school a big check.” Pasting her smile back in place, she walked out to finish giving the tour to a drunk and a dick.
Anyone who says women can’t run shit has clearly never met Camila Diaz.
Pulling out my phone to message Eden, I saw a single text waiting.
Mine: I’m sorry.
She’d lied about a fuck-ton outright. She’d lied by omission even more. I had a long list of questions that were overdue answers. And then I’d spank her ass so hard, she wouldn’t be able to sit for two weeks.
But first, I’d take care of my depraved angel.
It was about time someone did.
*******
Eden
“Look what you do to your poor mother. The stress of having her own daughter so ungrateful.” My dad shook his head. “It’s breaking her heart.”
It wasn’t her heart that was broken. It was her liver.
Mom was drunk.
To be fair, being reunited with her only child was reason to celebrate. But when it came to Mom, any holiday, birthday, wedding, funeral, bar mitzvah, or Tuesday afternoon was reason to pop a bottle.
“I’m sorry,” I said, ever the dutiful daughter.
Standing up for myself would only result in giving them more to use against me. As would running from them, which was exactly what I’d wanted to do when I’d heard my dad’s voice in the hallway.
But a Wilkes never made a scene. They didn’t have outbursts—good or bad. No polarizing opinions, no strong thoughts, and never an interest in anything that wasn’t wholesome and family friendly. Keeping my mouth shut and my head down was the only way to survive with my sanity.
I pushed my food around my plate.
“You shouldn
’t eat potatoes,” my mom muttered with a crooked smile, her food untouched as she drank her lunch.
“I’m sorry,” I repeated.
“Carbs sit in your stomach for years. Saw it on Dr. Oz.”
“I’ll steer clear,” I lied.
“Don’t validate her stupid shit,” my dad snapped.
“Sorry.”
I should leave. Just record a loop of me apologizing, and they’ll never notice I’m not here.
He smiled, which confused me until I saw someone approaching.
The guy enthusiastically shook my dad’s hand. “Governor Wilkes, I’m Les Jones, the owner. We’re so happy you and your beautiful family chose to dine with us this afternoon.”
Dad must’ve ‘title dropped’ when he made the reservation because of course he did. Can’t have a single hour pass without someone kissing his ass.
Dad and he locked in a battle of compliments and pleasantries. There were offers of comped food and desserts followed by pictures and so many tags and hashtags, tween girls everywhere rolled their eyes.
By the end of it, I was exhausted, and I’d barely moved.
Once the owner left, Dad seemed in better spirits, his ego demon fed. “We’re flying out in a few hours.”
Thank the Lord, the deities, the demi-gods, and Thor himself.
“Oh? That was a short visit,” I said, genial and polite.
His eyes narrowed, but he smiled, which was not comforting so much as foreboding. “Your professor said that you’re doing well. Heaven knows they need infinite patience to deal with you.”
He’s definitely found a good method.
I cringed at the thoughts I should not have around my parents. “It’s a good school.”
“Which is why your mother and I have agreed that you should finish the semester before returning home. We want you home for Thanksgiving, of course, but you can return and wrap up your term.”
I’d have choked had I been able to stomach any food in the first place. “What?”
“Like it or not, you’re a member of this family. You have a part in it. Responsibilities. You’ve done your own thing and managed to stay out of trouble, the news, or a gutter somewhere. Let’s call it a win and quit while you’re ahead.”