by Mia Ford
The only thing is,…
He’s not just a single dad, he’s the father of one of my students.
He’s rich, gorgeous, and charming.
What would he want with a naïve little girl like me?
All I know is that I’ve never been this turned on in my life. My body is begging for more. But somehow I know that playing with fire is only going to get me burned.
Thomas
After my divorce, I swore off women.
That is, until I saw her. Petite, pale, with masses of black hair and intense eyes.
I know I have to have her. Her sweet body is begging for me to dominate her, to make her mine.
The problem?
I think I might be falling in more than just lust.
Chapter One
June
“Come to order, please!” I stood up and clapped my hands together, staring at my kids and waiting for them to calm down. My words had no effect – the room full of fifth graders was just as loud and noisy as it had been thirty seconds ago.
“Calm down!” I yelled, clapping my hands again and smacking my palms on the desk. This time, thankfully, the room fell silent.
“Thank you all,” I said, smiling tightly. “I know the day is almost over, and tomorrow’s--”
“Tomorrow's Friday!”
“Yes,” I said. I could feel my smile fading. “Tomorrow is Friday, and that means we've got a lot of work before the weekend.”
My class let out a collective groan. “Miss Rogers, it's so warm outside!”
“Yeah, it's like summer!”
“Except not as good 'cause the pool's not open!”
“Please!” I yelled, holding my hand in the air. “Please, guys, calm down. We've only got one more assignment for the day, okay? And then if you all are good, you can have a treat from the Treat Apple.” I pointed to the small, plastic apple on my desk filled with individually-wrapped candies.
The class let out a collective enthusiastic murmur and I sat down behind my desk. Grabbing a handful of photocopied papers, I handed them over my desk to my teacher's assistant, Ruth.
“Thanks June,” Ruth said. She rolled her eyes. “They're really a handful today, aren't they?”
I nodded. “Just tell them to read the paragraph and write a short summary at the bottom – no more than fifty words, okay?”
Ruth nodded. I sighed as she began walking around the room and passing out the papers. I had no idea what was in the water of P.S. 151, but whatever it was, I hoped it wouldn't be around for much longer. This was only my second year teaching, and I was already starting to feel like I needed a vacation.
The year had started off well. Kids were always so well-behaved during the first month or so of school. But now that we were well into October, they were starting to bounce off the walls. It didn't help that the weather outside in New York City was still as warm as summer, albeit with less humidity. Seeing the kids get all excited to go home and play was making me a little nostalgic for my own youth.
Soon, the room was filled with the sounds of pencils scratching on papers. Ruth sat down heavily at her desk and rolled her eyes. She was an older woman – probably in her mid-fifties – who had come back to work after going through a surprise divorce. When she'd first been assigned to me, I'd been nervous. After all, I was only twenty-two...I couldn't stop thinking about how difficult life would be if Ruth tried to boss me around. But thankfully, Ruth had always been a perfect coworker. She was good at calming the kids down, and honestly, I think they respected her a little more than they respected me. It's probably her age , I thought as I watched her. These kids are probably used to teachers as old as their grandparents .
Back in college, I'd had no idea that I wanted to teach fifth-graders. I'd initially thought about younger kids. But I'd been assigned to a sixth-grade classroom for student teaching, and something about the older kids really intrigued me. They weren't babies anymore, but almost on the brink of becoming real little people. I loved the idea of influencing kids, for the better, and helping them to become better people.
The sudden sound of a girl crying out made me snap my head up and stare. Brett March, a particularly difficult student, was standing beside Lily Bulger and tugging at one of her pigtails. Lily's face was red and streaked with tears, and Brett was staring down at the little girl with a cruel, mocking smile.
“Miss Rogers!” Lily cried. “Brett won't leave me alone!”
“She started it!” Brett retorted. “She wouldn't let me do my work!”
I leapt from my chair and strode over. “Brett, you leave Lily alone right now!”
Brett glared at me defiantly. I wondered what his deal was – at the beginning of the year, he'd been so sweet and well-behaved. But over the last few weeks, I'd noticed a definite change in his personality for the worse – almost like he'd become a different person. I knew children at this age were right on the cusp of puberty, but Brett exhibited such anger that it almost frightened me.
Lily was looking up at me, her green eyes filled with tears. Truth be told, I found her fairly annoying. She was a little princess who cried if she didn't get her way, but she was too much of a goody-two shoes to have initiated anything. I sometimes had a feeling the other children were just as annoyed with her as I was, but still – that didn't warrant an attack from Brett.
“Miss Rogers, I wasn't doing anything, I swear!” Brett howled. “I told you, she started it! She wouldn't stop sticking her tongue out at me!”
I sighed. “Brett, I'm going to have to call your parents about this,” I said slowly. “This is the third time this week you've deliberately harmed another student!”
Brett gave me a sulky expression. “Fine,” he said. “Do it. Call them. See if I care.” He turned on his heel and slouched back to his desk.
“Brett,” I said in a warning tone. “Aren't you forgetting something?”
Brett turned to me with a sullen look on his face. “What?”
I jerked my head towards Lily. She was still sitting at her desk, pouting, her cheeks red with anger.
“Apologize, please,” I said.
Brett groaned. “Sorry, Lily,” he muttered.
I knew I should make him do it again, but I was tired. It had been a long day – honestly, I was just as excited for Friday as the kids, but only because I needed a break.
“Thank you, Brett,” I said. “You may take your seat now.”
Ruth collected the papers and shortly after, the bell rang. The kids screamed and ran from their seats. I didn't even have the energy to make them line up at the door like usual, while they waited for their buses and parents to bring them home. I was so drained – part of me even wanted to call in sick tomorrow, or ask Ruth to cover most of the day. But I knew I couldn't be getting so lazy. After all, it was only my second year teaching.
When the kids and Ruth had gone, I settled behind my desk with a feeling of dread in my stomach. I knew Brett's home situation was slightly unusual – he lived alone with his father – and I wondered if in part, that was the reason why he was acting out. Maybe there was something odd going on at home – maybe there was something beyond my control.
I looked up Brett's father's number, then dialed and held the phone to my ear.
“Hello, this is Hannah. How may I help you?”
I frowned. On Brett's contact page, his mother was listed as Marlene.
“I'm calling for Thomas March,” I said. “I'm June Rogers – Brett's teacher.”
“Oh,” Hannah cooed. “Want me to take a message?”
I frowned. She sounded annoyingly chipper. “No,” I said curtly. “I really need to speak to Mr. March, if possible.” I cringed – if possible? Really? I knew I needed to start being a lot more assertive if I was going to make it as a teacher.
Hannah sighed. “Fine,” she snapped. “Hold please.” Before I could agree, I heard a click followed by elevator music. After just a few moments, there was another click and a deep masculine voice filled my
ear.
“Hello, this is Thomas.”
“Hi, Mr. March,” I said. “I'm calling about your son – Brett.”
“Oh. What's the problem?”
I sighed. “Mr. March, I'd really rather discuss this in person. Would you be able to come by the school tomorrow evening, say around three-thirty?”
“Of course.” I shivered. Thomas's voice was thrilling and deep. After listening to the sound of ten-year-old kids all day, it filled me with a kind of pleasure that made me blush.
“Thank you,” I said. “I really mean it.”
“Not a problem. Brett is my first priority.”
We hung up and I shivered again, suddenly nervous about tomorrow. I hadn't had very many parent-teacher conferences, and they'd all gone pretty well...but I'd never had to call a parent about a child's behavior before and I wondered how Mr. March was going to take the news.
When I got home, my roommate Angela was sitting on the couch and watching a movie. She grinned when she saw me. Angela worked at an investment bank, from six-thirty in the morning until three in the afternoon. She was the only person I knew who had a similar schedule to me. That wasn't why we lived together, though – we'd been best friends ever since college, when we'd been assigned as roommates, freshman year. I wouldn't have survived Hunter College without her, and I was still grateful that we were close friends.
“What a day,” I groaned. “I felt like I was behind that desk forever!”
Angela smiled sympathetically before yawning. “I know,” she said. “I opened a bottle of wine. It's in the fridge, you want?”
I hauled myself off the couch and walked into the kitchen, kicking off my heels on the tiled floor. Sure enough, there was a jumbo-size bottle of a white blend in the fridge, and I poured some into a plastic wine glass sitting on the counter.
“How was your day?”
Angela rolled her eyes. “Not any better,” she said. “I had to deal with some really needy clients over at the clearing firm.”
We clinked glasses and I told her all about Brett and Lily.
“You did the right thing,” Angela said. “Don't worry about that, June.”
“It's not that.” I shook my head. “I’m not worried that I did the wrong thing, exactly, but Mr. March...I dunno. His voice was so powerful and intense.”
Angela snickered. “Sounds like someone has a crush,” she teased.
I blushed hotly and shook my head. “It's not that,” I told her. “It's just...I don't know. I wonder if he's going to be angry that he has to come in and deal with his son.”
Angela shrugged. “Well, he's a parent, and his kid screwed up,” she said. “Don't beat yourself up, June. You'll be fine. That kid was being a little brat.”
I nodded. As much as I knew Angela was correct, that didn't quell my nerves about the meeting tomorrow. After dinner, when I went to bed, I lay there for hours, staring at the ceiling and wondering how it was going to go.
–
In the morning, I wore my favorite outfit – a grey pencil skirt with a cream blouse – and put on my highest pair of heels. Teachers were allowed to wear jeans on Fridays, but I had a feeling that Mr. March was going to come in looking incredibly professional, and I didn't want him to think that I was just a kid. There was also the fact that I was so young – I wondered if he would blame me, for being an inexperienced teacher? Plus, my wide eyes and pale face had a habit of making me look even younger. My stomach sank when I realized that no amount of fancy clothing would make me look professional enough to teach a billionaire's son.
I didn't know very much about Brett's family, but I did know that his father was incredibly wealthy. Thomas March worked for Steel Visions, Inc – a high-dollar consulting firm. There were always whispers about him at school. One of the other teachers, Michelle, had taught Brett the year before and I remembered her talking about Mr. March in the teacher's lounge. She'd been blushing the whole time.
Thankfully, my students were well-behaved – even Brett, who kept his head down for most of the day. He still seemed sullen and quiet, and I wondered if he'd already gotten into trouble despite the fact that I hadn't disclosed yesterday's events to his father.
By the end of the day, I was a nervous wreck. Thankfully, Ruth had helped out a lot – she'd taught the kids a new song during their music hour, and then she'd taken them to play soccer for the last hour of the day. They were exhausted and sweaty as they waited for their buses, and I sat nervously at my desk, trying to make myself look as organized as possible.
At three-thirty on the dot, there was a knock at my door. I glanced up to see a gorgeous older man walking towards my desk. I guessed he was in his late forties, with tanned skin, brown eyes, and dark brown hair shot through with silver.
“Hi, are you Miss Rogers?”
I flushed. “Please, you can call me June.” I stood up and tried to make myself as tall as possible. I'm not a short woman, but Mr. March was so tall that I only came up to his shoulder.
Mr. March gave me a tight smile. “Call me Thomas,” he said. “Hannah, in here!”
I expected to see a little girl run into the room, but instead a gorgeous girl in her mid-twenties came waltzing in, wiggling her hips from side to side. She was beautiful, with long blonde hair and pale skin. I flushed again – was this his wife? His girlfriend?
“This is my assistant, Hannah,” Thomas said. “Hannah, this is June – Brett's teacher.”
Hannah smiled with her mouth but not with her eyes. “Pleased,” she simpered. She sat down and scooted close – very close – to Thomas.
“Hannah's just helping me out with some things this afternoon,” Thomas said. “I hope you don't mind that she came.”
Hannah glared at me.
“No, it's fine,” I said quickly. “Look, I know you're probably really busy, so I'll get right to the point. Brett is a smart kid – I can tell, just by listening to him talk. But he's been picking on another student, even going so far as to yank her hair. He made her cry yesterday,” I added. “I'm sorry to be the one to tell you.”
Thomas scowled.
“That's just how kids are,” Hannah said flippantly. She tossed her blonde locks over one shoulder. “He probably has a crush on her.”
“Hannah, please,” Thomas said curtly. “This isn't about you.”
Hannah sulked and I had to suppress a grin.
“That's a pretty outdated way of looking at things,” I said, trying to keep my voice as even as possible. “We take physical assault very seriously at P.S. 151, and Brett can't attack this girl again without being written up and sent to the principal.”
Thomas nodded. He looked very stern, and a thrill shot down my back.
“Of course,” Thomas said. “Please, discipline Brett as you see fit.” He sighed, raking a hand through his silver-threaded hair. “The family is...going through a bit of a rough time right now,” he added. “And it isn't fair for Brett to take his frustrations out on any of his classmates.”
I nodded, feeling a mixture of relief and curiosity. Just what was going on with the family, and why was it bothering Brett? I glanced at Hannah again, wondering if she was Thomas's mistress.
“Again, I apologize,” Thomas said. I could tell that despite his apparent lack of emotional warmth, he was sincere.
“It's nothing,” I said. “I just want to make sure Brett is doing alright.”
Thomas nodded. A muscle ticked in his clenched jaw. “Of course,” he said. “I promise, I'll have a talk with him and get this sorted out.” He sighed, checking his watch. “I'm sorry, but I have to run. Hannah, is everything ready for the Johnson appointment?”
“Yes,” Hannah said in a chirpy voice. She looked at Thomas and I watched her eyes fill with passion. “But we'll have to leave now or else we'll be late.”
Thomas gave me yet another apologetic-yet-distant smile. “Thanks again, June,” he said. “I hope you'll be in touch.”
I nodded automatically. I couldn't help feeling stunn
ed. The meeting hadn't gone the way I'd expected at all, and suddenly I was wondering whether or not that was a good thing. Thomas obviously cares about Brett, but it seemed like he was so busy that he hardly even had time for his son.
Thomas stood up and reached for my hand. When I slipped my palm against his, I felt a spark leap from his body to mine. My stomach turned to a pile of warm mush inside my body and I shivered as Thomas gently squeezed my hand. No doubt about it, he was one of the most attractive men I'd ever seen in my life.
“Thanks for coming in,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
Thomas smiled, showing a mouth full of straight white teeth. “Any time,” he said perfunctorily. “Come, Hannah.”