He squeezes my thigh and flashes a devilish smile at me.
“Oh, I don’t know, I can think of some kinky games we could play along those lines …”
“Oh my God, Sebastian, you are terrible,” I murmur in amused reproach. “You’ve figured out that you can get me to do just about anything if you tell me it’s a kinky game, haven’t you?”
He glances smilingly at me again, before he takes my hand and kisses it.
“Have I ever told you how much I love it that you’re kinky?”
When we get to the restaurant, he surprises me by pulling up in front of it, right at the door, and for a moment I think he’s going to drop me off first, until I realise that there’s a valet parking attendant standing outside, and before I know it, he’s opened the door for me, and Sebastian shows up on my side just in time to offer me his arm before handing over his car key to the valet with the air of a man who’s thoroughly accustomed to this sort of thing.
And then the restaurant itself! It looks incredibly plush, even from where we’re standing as we wait for the maître d’ to show us to our table - it’s all chandeliers and crisp linens and officious, impeccably-dressed waiters, a world away from anything I’ve ever experienced.
He’s certainly noticed my wonderment, in contrast to the ease with which he’s handling himself, because he smiles, kisses my hand, before leaning over and whispering in my ear: “Well, Paige, I’m afraid you’re going to have to get used to being the girlfriend of a man who likes to pamper you a bit.”
As I smile back at him a bit nervously, he gestures to me to go ahead and follow the maître d’, which I do, though I keep reflexively turning back to look at him, as though to confirm that I’m not doing anything inappropriate.
He’s very reassuring, beaming at me every time our eyes meet, but it’s nevertheless a relief when we’re finally seated.
As it turns out, he’s reserved a booth in the corner with a curved banquette, and instead of sitting on the chair across from me, he sidles up beside me and slips one arm around my waist, as if half in greeting.
I can’t help but stare into his eyes - he looks so utterly gorgeous, and ever so radiant, that I feel like I just have to fix that in my memory - and we end up goofily smiling at each other until the waiter arrives with our menus.
But it’s not till after we’ve perused the menus and then placed our orders that I realise why Sebastian’s chosen this particular location to sit in - because that’s when he slides a hand onto my thigh and kisses me, just like that, in front of all and sundry, without a care for whomever might be watching.
It’s strangely liberating, after all the hiding we’ve had to do on campus, and while I’m initially a bit nervous about so blatant a display of affection in a place like this, it’s ultimately easier to just relax into his embrace and savor the fact that he doesn’t seem to give a damn if people realise that we’re together.
In fact, if anything, he seems to want to flaunt our relationship, because after our kiss he keeps me so close that when I speak to him I’m practically leaning my chin on his shoulder and murmuring into his ear.
It’s all like a dream, a beautiful dream that I never want to wake up from …
“Well, look who’s here!” a man’s voice exclaims in front of our table, a weirdly familiar voice that I can’t quite place.
We look up.
For a moment I’m puzzled - the guy, like his voice, seems oddly familiar, but I can’t quite place him either - it doesn’t seem to be anyone from school, certainly.
And then I realise that the reason I can’t place him is because I used to see him in a much more dimly-lit place, in a completely different environment - and because I always tried to avoid eye contact with him as far as was possible.
Because it’s the creep.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
He’s got that expression on his face that I know all too well from the club - smarmy, and what’s worse, a veneer of over-friendliness masking some kind of inexplicable hostility.
“Hey man,” he says, addressing Sebastian, “haven’t seen you around in a while. I didn’t know you were on such close terms with our Tiffany here.”
I feel Sebastian’s arm tighten subtly around me, as though in a protective gesture.
“I wasn’t aware we had a joint custodial arrangement around the young lady, last I checked,” he says icily, his eyes hard in a way that I’ve never seen before.
“A joint custodial arrangement? Oh, you mean because I said ‘our Tiffany’. Ah, always with the wordplay, Mr. Famous Writer. I was just alluding to the fact that you seem to have taken her away from all of us at the club.”
“I didn’t need to ‘take her away’, Caleb, if that’s what you’re wondering, she was quite happy to come with me.”
“I’ll bet she was,” says Caleb, grinning at me impertinently.
I avert my gaze and look at Sebastian instead.
His face is still a mask, for the most part, but I can tell from the tension in his jaw that he’s not happy.
“Good evening, Caleb,” he says, with a dismissiveness that seems quite deliberate. “Your dinner partner must be waiting for you.”
“Oh, dad isn’t here yet,” says Caleb, with an airiness just as put-on. “But I shan’t keep bothering you two. Good to see you, Tiffany.”
I look at him but don’t respond, and he walks away with a wink despite my unresponsiveness.
As soon as he’s out of sight I bury my face in Sebastian’s shoulder.
“My poor darling girl,” he murmurs. “You look quite shaken. I’m so sorry we had to run into him here - I’ve never seen him in the neighborhood. But you don’t have to worry, I’m here. He hasn’t been bothering you in the meantime has he?”
“N-no,” I stammer. “I haven’t seen him since that night when you were at the club, but I ran into another girl from the club the other day and she said he’d been fishing for information about me. I don’t think it’s connected to him being here, because no one at the club really knows anything about me, unless he talked to the manager, who wouldn’t even give my friend my contact info when she was trying to get in touch with me when I stopped showing up at the club, so I think that’s okay for now. Who is he, though?”
Sebastian sighs.
“He’s the dean’s son.”
“What, you mean -”
“Yes, Dean Miller.”
“Wait, but he said his dad was going to be here - so Dean Miller will be here anytime?”
“Yes. And he’ll probably stop by our table to say hello as well if he sees me, just so you know.”
“It’s all right,” I say gently, “he won’t recognise me. And the creep doesn’t know who I am either, so it should be fine.”
He kisses me.
“I’m not worried about that, Paige. I’m more concerned about Caleb harassing you.”
“Is that - is that something he has a history of doing?”
He takes a breath before answering.
“No. At least I cannot say that I have any knowledge of anything like that. I barely know him. But he seems to have some issues - and also seems disproportionately preoccupied with you. And you looked stricken when he showed up, just as you did that night at the club, so I can’t imagine that your experience of him has been positive.”
“No it definitely hasn’t. There’s a reason we nicknamed him ‘the creep’ at the club … You know him through school, through Dean Miller?”
He laughs scornfully.
“No. No, I’ve never met him in that context. I don’t think that he and his dad are particularly close. He’s a bit of a ne’er-do-well, always involved in some dubious business or other. I’ve always had a vague suspicion that he was a bit of a disappointment to Roger. No, I only know him through Brandon, an old college friend - he was the guy whose bachelor party it was that night at the club. It wasn’t the first time I’d met him, but I always instinctively disliked him, and at the club I realised exactly why.”
He doesn’t elaborate, and I don’t ask - which is just as well, because Dean Miller has just walked up to us. He’s a bluff, hearty man, and while I can detect a certain family resemblance, now that I’ve been tipped off, he seems quite warm and genuinely pleased to see Sebastian - which couldn’t be more different from his son the creep.
“Hello, Sebastian. What a nice surprise. Out for dinner?” He nods at me and offers me his hand to shake. “Hi, I’m Roger.”
“Hi, I’m Paige, nice to meet you,” I stammer.
Fortunately, the waiter arrives with our appetizers, forestalling any potential conversation …
Dean Miller smiles. “Nice to meet you, Paige. I’ll be on my way now, see you around, Sebastian.”
“I probably shouldn’t have told him my real name,” I say regretfully, once Dean Miller’s out of earshot and once the waiter’s left.
Sebastian pats my hand reassuringly. “He’s not going to find out who you are just from your first name, Paige. And it’s unlikely he’d suspect that you were a student - he wouldn’t have been so nice otherwise, I’m sure. Caleb doesn’t know you’re in college, does he?”
“No, I can’t imagine he would. I’ve never discussed my personal life with any of the club patrons, and definitely not with him.”
“Well, I think we’ll be fine then. Roger’s always been friendly with me, I was a bit of a star hire for him, and he apparently liked my novel a lot. He was even quite sympathetic when I broke up with my ex-girlfriend last year. Besides, I’ve been such a good boy in general that he’s much more likely to think ‘oh good, he’s finally found himself a new girlfriend’, rather than ‘oh my God I wonder if that beautiful young thing he’s with is a student of his’.”
I smile. “Well, with any luck, I hope that’ll be the case.”
He kisses my hand.
“I’m sure it will be the case. Here, have some crostini and let’s try not to worry too much. You know, about Caleb, I think the trick is not to let on that he’s gotten to you, even if he has. I’m pretty sure from observing him that that’s what he gets off on. So don’t look scared, and even better, don’t be scared. I’m here with you, he won’t dare to try anything. My dislike of him has always been heartily returned, but the difference between us is that he’s afraid of me. Because, like all bullies, he’s a coward who won’t attack anyone his own size or bigger.”
“So you’ve seen him around a bit? And he’s just as creepy in general?”
He shrugs.
“The first time I met him he was at a cocktail party at Brandon’s. He had a date with him, she seemed like a nice girl, I have no idea if they’re even still together, although I suspect not. Anyway, he was incredibly crass, loudly commenting on other women’s looks in front of her, not bothering to conceal his interest in them, ‘joking’ about asking her to recruit them for threesomes. It was painful to watch, and it was obvious that it wasn’t even about him being oblivious to her feelings - he wanted to humiliate her, of that I am sure, because the poor girl was cringing by the end of the night and he seemed to rather enjoy it.”
“Oh God, that’s horrible.”
“I did say a few kind words to her, to try and make her feel better, and I think he resented that. But I’ve never been able to respect him since. I know he’s his cousin, and you can’t choose your relatives, but sometimes I find myself wondering why an otherwise decent guy like Brandon would even want to hang out with him. It’s a complete mystery to me. Anyway, that’s why I felt like I had to rescue you that night at the club. It was obvious that he wanted to humiliate you, and that you found him repulsive. I couldn’t possibly just stand by and watch.”
I lean my head on his shoulder.
“I’m glad you did rescue me,” I murmur. “This is not a sentence I thought I would ever utter, because I didn’t exactly grow up fantasizing about being rescued by a man, but … I’m really glad you did.”
He smiles.
“I’m very glad I did too. And I’m really glad you allowed me to rescue you.”
We beam at each other.
“So, tell me,” he continues, “he was a regular pest at the club too, was he?”
“Yes, he made a lot of us really uncomfortable. I mean, it’s not the world’s most emotionally comfortable job to begin with, but he just creeped a lot of us out. I didn’t really know at first why he made me so uncomfortable, and I was talking to a more experienced colleague about it” - this being Brandi aka Ashley, of course - “and she said something that gave me a lot of food for thought. ‘You know how there are guys at the club who are just lonely and maybe a bit clingy because they’re lonely, but are otherwise harmless enough?’ she said. ‘Well, he’s not one of them. He’s angry, it’s like he despises women in general on a very, very deep level. Which is why you want to watch out for him.’ Some of the girls didn’t mind him as much because he tipped well, but … it was hard not to get the feeling that you’d have to pay for that tip by accepting his display of power over you, and that he took some kind of vicious pleasure in that.”
“Oh, Paige,” he murmurs sympathetically as the waiter arrives to whisk away the appetizer plates and replace them with our entrées. “I’m glad you talked to your colleague about this. Because I wouldn’t have wanted you to go through that. And she’s got good instincts - I think she’s quite right about him.”
“Anyway,” I continue when the waiter leaves, “he wasn’t unusually focused on me or anything at the beginning. Maybe it was a mistake to have been obvious in my dread of him, because then it became a game for him to try and get my attention, which just freaked me out more, which amused him more. I think he liked scaring me, I swear there was one time, a couple of weeks before you were at the club, when he actually trailed my car when I left …”
“He did what?” Sebastian exclaims, his cheeks flushing with outrage. “He stalked you?”
“It was just that one time,” I hasten to add - he’s looking so angry that I’m worried he might be tempted to go over and punch the creep right in front of Dean Miller. “Look, I’m not even a hundred per cent sure it was him. It’s just that he left at the same time as I did and I saw him hop into a red Corvette, and the car that was following me was also a red Corvette.”
“Fuck, I should box his ears, the bastard!” he snaps, tossing his napkin onto the table and standing up.
Just what I was afraid of …
“Please don’t, Sebastian. I don’t want you getting into any trouble on my account,” I plead, grabbing his hand. “And certainly not with the dean here. Besides, if there were any legal repercussions, that would be terrible. I’d much rather you were around - I’d be all alone otherwise, and I really wouldn’t have anyone to call if I needed protection.”
He pauses for a moment, then sighs and sits down again, though he’s clearly still fuming - his face is still flushed and his nostrils are flared.
“If I don’t,” he says, “will you promise that if something like that happens again, if he ever tries to follow you around, you’ll call me immediately and let me know? Because this is what you should know about him - he may not have any compunction when it comes to intimidating women, but he’s terrified of men, at least the ones who aren’t frightened of him. That’s all he knows, you see: fear. He needs to understand that you are under my protection, and that if he upsets you, he’ll have me to answer to. I know it might sound primitive, but I actually do believe that’s the level he functions on. So, do I have your promise?”
“Yes, Sebastian.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
“It’s really good, the filet mignon,” I venture timidly, after I’ve taken a bite of it.
It’s absolutely true - the truffled mushroom ragoût it comes with is beautiful, not like anything I’ve ever tried - but mostly I’m just trying to distract him from his agitation. I know he’s not cross with me, that he’s angry on my behalf, which is not the same thing at all, but I guess the whole thing just makes me nervous.
>
Fortunately, my remark seems to have the desired effect - he looks at me, surprised at first, as though jolted from his thoughts, before his face softens.
“I’m glad you like it, Paige,” he says, smiling at me and patting my hand. “They have a great menu here. And, you know what, why should we let that bastard spoil this evening for us? It’s our first real date, after all, and I must say I’m glad to be out with you.”
“Oh, it’s lovely being out with you,” I murmur, smiling back at him - he looks so sweet when he’s happy. I’m still mildly worried about the dean’s presence, but at this point there’s nothing we can do, and Sebastian’s right, why would we let anything spoil our first date?
I mean, I can barely believe that I’m on a date with him as it is! A date with Sebastian Morland.
A month ago he was just my gorgeous professor, a beautiful fantasy, and now he’s here beside me, beaming at me as he works on his steak au poivre.
I’ve even gotten used to thinking of him as Sebastian rather than as Dr. Morland …
“It’s nice to be pampered a bit, isn’t it, Paige? About time you were. A lovely girl like you. It’s only right.”
“You’re very sweet, Sebastian.”
He grins.
“I’m not entirely disinterested, Paige. I’m looking forward to pampering you in other ways when we get back. Well, not everyone might consider what I’m thinking of as being pampered, exactly, but I suspect you might, if some of our sexts are anything to go by.”
“Ooh, are you going to tie me up tonight?”
“Maybe,” he says, his tone light, though he’s eyeing me meaningfully as he speaks. “Would you like that?”
“I’ve liked everything you’ve done to me so far,” I murmur. “You know, ever since we … started up, I’ve been fantasizing about being yours to do with as you please. I don’t know why but I just do.”
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