by Ella Brooke
They just were. Ever-present and beyond her control.
“I guess I’ll think about it. There’s good for my career and good for my sanity. This would definitely be the former, only,” Hazel said.
“Get a better shrink and take the job.”
Hazel rolled her eyes. “Who needs another shrink when I have you?”
“Exactly.” Natalie waggled her brows. “I’m gonna go get one of those suspiciously good vegan brownies, and you’re gonna share it with me.”
Hazel took a napkin and wiped the mustard from her sandwich off her fingers. Could she do this? Could she force herself to spend so much extra time out of class with Ian Cartwright? She had to admit that he was incredibly easy on the eyes. He got her pulse up, and not always because she was angry. But he was such… what was the word?
A corporate dick. He was everything she fought against every day of her life, and she wasn’t sure why he would ever want to work with her. Sure, he’d said it was because of her GPA, but Hazel had a hard time believing that she was the only overachiever in the class.
What did he really want from her? The thought made her start to shake all over again.
***
After class, Ian had called a car to return to his office at the edge of town. He’d prefer to drive to campus, but given the parking situation, and the abysmal driving skills of the faculty and staff, Ian would prefer to sacrifice comfort and keep his baby from getting scratched all to hell.
As matters stood, though, the twenty-five-minute gap in his schedule when he rode in the back of his driver’s town car had become an anticipated break in his daily routine. Otherwise, Ian was scheduled down to the minute, with time in the office before and after classes on Tuesdays and Thursdays, conference calls with the offices overseas on Wednesdays, and full days of meetings on Monday and Friday, unless he found himself traveling over the weekend. If he did not, he spent time on his book, which was proving more intractable than those he’d already published.
Truthfully, the semester had been a lot more intense than Ian had been expecting. He’d expected a few hours of work on class days, with the rest of his time devoted to managing the onsite business. It was a PR slam dunk, offering himself to the business program of Peachtree University, where the latest arm of Cartwright & Benton Industries had settled. There was an automatic connection there, with his business offering scholarship for business degrees and internships based on merit and need. But he’d found himself devoting a lot of his time upfront to planning semester activities once he’d met the student and discussed their expectations for the class, and that had gotten him behind on everything else. As it turned out, teaching was harder than he’d thought.
Ian took a deep breath and reached for his water. He let the car’s cool air wash over him. He could handle most facets of this loud city, but the heat drained him the most. He was more accustomed to the weather in the northern cities of the United States, and if he had his preference, he would have stayed in the holdings in England and Europe. Thank God for AC.
As the car slowed down in the traffic, Ian let his thoughts drift. What he would do first when he returned to the office, his to-do list at the penthouse, whether he ought to schedule another trip up north to check on the holdings in New York…
Unconsciously, his mind returned to the classroom. Hazel’s strident, offended voice… the way her breasts rose and fell with her angry breaths, exposed on both the top and sides by her tank top. One benefit of the weather: Ian could look forward to seeing those breasts bouncing for half the semester. Hazel was sexy in an entirely unaware way. She didn’t think of herself as something to be seen, and so didn’t act as though she knew she might be watched. The way she leaned over, and the gap between her tank top and her bra, allowed a clear view of her breasts… When her jeans slipped, and one could see the frilly edge of her Wonder Woman panties… It all both intriguing and infuriating. She didn’t want to be looked at, probably. Not with the way she acted, but it was oh so difficult not to want to look.
Ian closed his eyes and smiled at the thought of this gorgeous, untamed creature coming to his office on a daily basis, coming along on business trips, and hovering by his side and taking notes. Oh, he could see it. He could practically taste it…
Ian wondered if he’d demand better choices in clothing, or whether she’d show up in his office the first day spilling out of another tank top and her bare legs sticking out the bottom of a short skirt. He licked his lips, thinking of how he might discipline her. He could take her on his knee, squeezing her sides, and scold her. While he gave her the verbal lashing she deserved, he might bounce his leg just a little, rubbing his leg against the crotch of those silly panties of hers.
She’d moan, quivering, and that would be the time to remove her tank top. He would look at her for a moment, fully take in the look of her body in that bra, before he unfastened the back and let her breasts go free, to sway as he continued to tease between her legs.
Hazel would rise, so hot and bothered that she couldn’t let him continue, and hold onto his shoulders as she slipped her skirt back and her panties down. He would unbutton his pants, and with a grunt, sheath himself inside of her. She would be ready for him, wet and warm and hungry, rocking her hips against him as she moaned for more. Of course, he would have to give it to her. His young little apprentice, with her rosebud lips and torn clothing.
He would make her shriek in delight and shake until she collapsed in his arms. He would addict her to his touch and come inside her tight, waiting cavity, with his hands clenching her firm backside and her nipples pressed against his chest.
Ian opened his eyes with a sigh. If only. He would have to unwind Hazel quite a bit before he managed to get this one in his bed, not that he could do anything of the sort. She was a student, and he wasn’t looking for a scandal just to wet his wick. Still, he entertained himself with the thought of removing her clothing and pinching that ripe little body of hers until his driver, Randy, pulled up at the building.
“Thank you, Randy,” Ian said before heading to his private elevator. There, he pulled out his phone to check his messages.
Hazel had sent him a message from her school account.
Dr. Cartwright,
Again, thank you for your generous offer this afternoon. I’d like a little more information before committing myself. What, specifically, would be my duties? How often would I need to be in the office with you? (So that I can coordinate with my work schedule). Would this position conflict with my work-study scholarship, or replace it? Any other information that you could give regarding the position would be helpful.
I await your reply and thank you for your time.
Hazel Rosalie Greenwood
Ian almost laughed out loud. She was so polite and proper over email. He would have to refer some of her questions to his accounting department, since he had no idea what the work-study was, let alone why it would interfere with another job. He would, however, put them on that right away and have them start her paperwork.
That she was asking boded well for him. He had her. She would say yes.
Chapter Three
Hazel’s stomach had been doing flips all morning. She’d managed to drink some hot water with lemon when she’d gotten up, but that had been it until she got a coconut milk latte from the campus café. Instead of drinking it, she found herself carrying it with her from class to the library for her work-study hours until she was on her way to Cartwright’s class with a stone-cold coffee and a growling stomach.
A little lightheaded, she pulled out one of the crunchy granola bars that she always carried with her. It was almost ridiculous for her to be so nervous. Why get worked up when you’re about to tell someone what they want to hear? Regardless, Hazel knew that until she was able to talk to Cartwright face-to-face, she would have a hard time focusing on anything. She could barely remember anything from her Poli-Sci Race and Gender class that morning. After nibbling on her granola bar, Hazel drew in deep br
eaths and took little sips of her coffee. It might as well have been iced, now, but she hated to waste money.
Bit by bit, students began to show up. Ellis and Gina sat next to one another on the floor, since Hazel was already on the bench. She could tell that they would rather be safely out of conversation range with her. No one seemed to think that the problem in their class was Chris. Everyone seemed to think that his behavior was no big deal and that she was the troublemaker for responding to it. What she couldn’t discern was whether this meant fourteen potential entrepreneurs were going out into the workplace who would just let the Chris’ of the world turn their businesses into toxic cesspools out of some kind of social etiquette not to call out that behavior, or whether they actually thought his ideas were good.
The class in the lecture hall let out, and students streamed past her peers waiting in the hallway. Gina looked over at Hazel for a moment before getting up and slipping past the other students to go take a seat. Ellis would sit with Gina. The others would cluster nearby. Hazel would sit on the edge of the group, and Chris would make sure that he sat near her. So he could be absolutely sure that she could hear his hilarious jokes.
Ugh.
Instead of going in to get a seat in the front, Hazel got out her phone and tried to look busy. She waited until there was only a minute left before class to get up and collect her things.
“Oh.” Hazel was startled when she saw Dr. Cartwright right there at the doorway.
“Are you coming in?” He sounded a bit amused.
“Sorry. I got caught up—”
“No problem. You’re not too late. Yet.” Cartwright gestured towards himself and smiled.
Hazel skirted past him, feeling his presence so close to her, and, after eyeballing the layout of students, selected a seat behind Gina. Just as Cartwright began calling the class to order, Chris slid in.
“I know the old adage ‘Time is Money’ may be a bit passé for your generation,” Cartwright drawled as he leaned back against the desk. “Especially when I do a video conference call at least once a day. But people still expect you not to waste their time.”
“Uh, the bus was running late,” Chris said.
Cartwright motioned toward a seat right next to him. “Just sit. We have a lot of material to cover.”
Hazel adjusted her tablet on the desk and readied herself to take notes.
“It’s come to my attention that there’s been a problem with appropriate behavior lately,” Cartwright said.
Half of the eyes in the room went to Chris; the other half turned to Hazel.
“A young man who is giving out suggestions and making jokes that are creating a hostile environment.” Dr. Cartwright plugged a jump drive into a computer, and a PowerPoint popped up. “The precipitating event also occurred in one of my original offices in England, around Sussex, but I thought given our discussions of workplace communication, we’d talk about some cases that I’ve had to address during my time. The first few, I can give you more concrete answers. I handled these toward the beginnings of my business, and so I can tell you quite clearly how you’d deal with the problems one-on-one. Later cases, which occurred after my business expanded, I did not always have the luxury of handling myself.”
Cartwright clicked the screen, and the demographic breakdown for the office in Sussex appeared on the screen. “I’ll open the floor later in the session for suggestions on how to redirect behavior and mediate problems.”
Hazel sucked in her lower lip, and strangely, felt her shoulders going loose. Cartwright couldn’t have come up with this on the fly, just because. He’d always given them readings when he wanted to address something specific like this. And at the end of the last class, he had made it seem that they would be discussing the HR texts he’d given them.
No, this little lecture was based on Hazel’s complaint about Chris. Cartwright had heard her and listened. And not only had he decided to correct the matter, but he’d also come up with an entire lesson and activity for them to engage with because he’d decided workplace dynamics merited the time for a real discussion. Even better, anyone could tell that Chris knew this lesson was in part related to his comments in class because his ears were blazing red.
Feeling lighter than she had all week, Hazel took a big swig of her coffee and started rapidly taking notes and jotting down her questions about each scenario in the comments. It was one of the best classes she’d had with Cartwright since the semester had begun.
***
After Cartwright had dismissed the students, Hazel lingered, putting her tablet away slowly. While it had been gratifying to hear Cartwright support her, the discussion that class had been lively and a lot more helpful than she might have imagined. Despite his clout, Hazel hadn’t always thought that much of his business prowess. He was smart, yes, but much of what they discussed seemed like she could’ve gotten similar advice from the other professors. Besides, she would never be starting a business like his. Hazel would be running nonprofit startups and organizing grassroots action. Maximizing profits wasn’t exactly on the top of her priorities.
It really hadn’t occurred to her that through his posturing and charisma, Ian Cartwright had a great deal of practical experience.
“Well, Hazel?”
Hazel felt her cheeks growing warm. Even as she looked up, intending to tell him yes to his proposal, her heart was in her throat. “G-good class today,” she managed.
“I thought so. Timely.” Cartwright paused and crossed his arms. “I’m glad you appreciated the lesson.”
“I did.” Hazel brushed a hand over her hair and suddenly wished she hadn’t pulled her hair into pigtails that morning. She felt like such a kid. “Um, the case in London was particularly informative.”
“Yes, that one was tricky.”
Hazel bit her lip and hitched her bag on her shoulder.
“Was that all?”
“No.” Hazel drew in a deep breath. “About your offer…”
Dr. Cartwright raised his brows and tilted his head to the side. “You’ve decided against it?”
“No! Oh, no, I was going to say that I’d like to do it.”
Cartwright chuckled. “You seemed so anxious. I thought that didn’t bode well for me.”
“No, I just. That’s just… me.” Hazel shrugged. “I want to work with you as your assistant, and I actually love to do research, so that’s not a problem at all.”
“Oh, so there is a problem.”
Hazel squeezed the strap of her messenger bag. “Okay. Look. I know it’s customary not to give credit to research assistants or assistants in general, but I think the practice is less than ethical. I do want to work with you but, if I do, I’d like to make sure I get some degree of credit for my work, and I would want a letter of recommendation for graduate school.”
Cartwright seemed taken aback. “You want to be a co-author?”
“I-I no. Of course not.” Hazel shifted her weight. “I was thinking at least an acknowledgment at the beginning of the book. Maybe, if any articles appeared in business magazines prior to publication, I could be a co-writer.”
Cartwright put his hands on his hips and frowned. “I’ll have to think about that. I don’t tend to sit down and actually write the books.”
“You don’t?”
“Obviously, I’m too busy for that kind of thing. I make my observations and hand them over to a ghostwriter.” Cartwright rubbed his fingers over his lips thoughtfully. “Though, you are a good writer. Even if your prose is a bit dense for mass-market publication. We might be able to work out an arrangement, wherein you help with the research, we’ll discuss your findings, and I give you the notes that I would have given to my ghostwriter. In that case, I certainly would consider putting your name on the cover.”
“Oh!” Hazel gave a little hop, then cringed as he laughed. “That’s much more than I had hoped.”
“As for the letter… Honestly, graduate school is a waste of your time. You should just go into the ma
rket and get work experience.”
“That’s what my internships have been for, right? And I can write down that I’ve been your assistant,” Hazel replied. “You really don’t believe in graduate school for business?”
“Not for nonprofits, I don’t. Or social work. Or feminism, or whatever you intended to major in.” Cartwright rolled his eyes.
Hazel huffed. “I think that’s my business—what I choose to study. These jobs are work worth doing. There’s already so much wrong with the world. How can you live in it if you don’t try as hard as you can to make things better?”
“Fine.” Cartwright held his hands up. “I’ll write you a recommendation for wherever you’d like. Just don’t lecture me anymore today. I’m far too tired.”
“Sorry.” Hazel averted her gaze.
“Don’t be.” Cartwright raked his eyes over her. “It’s cute how intense you are. It can be hard to convince people your age to care.”
“I’ve always been like this,” Hazel admitted. She tossed her empty coffee cup in the trash. “I made my parents get a recycle bin. I had to make my own dinners in high school when I became a vegan because my mother didn’t want to make a separate meal. I went to a protest for the first time at twelve.”
Cartwright laughed again. “You certainly are full of energy. But you’re going to have to focus somehow. You can’t save the whole world.”
“That doesn’t mean I shouldn’t try at all.” Hazel shrugged. “I feel like that’s where a lot of my peers are. They’re just overwhelmed by all the problems, so they end up doing nothing. I won’t give up just because I can’t do everything.”