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He eyes my bruises and frowns. I wish to God I was the kind of girl who wears sweeping, flowing scarves year around, always knotted elegantly at my throat to hide my shameful—no, not shameful, but private—activities.
“I’m sorry, Professor Walker.” I smile up at him, and he’s still wearing the frown, his gaze still on the marks. “I was all caught up in my head.”
“Anything wrong? Anything I can help you with? You know I’m always here.”
I force a laugh. Oh, fuck, he thinks I’m a victim of an abusive boyfriend. Could my shame get worse? Ugh, probably.
“Not unless you know how to fix a problem for my cyber security course. It’s something with the coding?—”
“Strictly an arts and crafts man.” He glances at the bruises again. “Heading to class?”
I nod. I’ve been looking forward to this art class all week. The grades don’t affect my course in the way one of my other ones do, but I added this to my workload for something where I could unwind, and my mind needs a creative space.
The class is cathartic, and from the moment I put charcoal to the paper, I let myself go. It’s over way too soon, and Professor Walker spends time looking at the sketches I’ve been making. His gaze goes to the painting and the drawings.
He nods thoughtfully. “You haven’t touched it since you adjusted the light?”
“No, I’m thinking of doing some smaller ones and using the charcoals and pencils too.”
“You’re not using the face of your model?”
Heat starts to creep up, but I shake my head. “I don’t think so, and I might pull the canvas from the frame. I like the idea of the staple marks and the frayed edges. It seems to fit with the others.”
“A statement piece that would be one installation?”
I laugh. “If it ever got to that point. I’m not good enough for that.”
“There’s no not good enough, Karlee. But I like it. Some of these smaller ones would be good with the paints I got you.” He points to one in particular. “This one, on canvas and left on the frame. It is meticulous, and it’ll bring it together unexpectedly.”
I nod and start taking the drawings down. I slide everything into the large folio and stack it and the painting in its slot.
“Summer class stuff,” I say. Then I check my phone. “Oh my God. I’m late. Catch you next time.”
I race out the door and through the building, hitting the pavement after running down the stairs. Spring break’s going to be so full while everyone else is winding down and slacking, I’m speeding up, and I need to see another professor for an appointment, and then Laura wants to meet.
“Slow down, bitch.” Hazard’s hands grab me and spin me to a stop. His entourage isn’t there, and he glares at me. “Your baboon isn’t here?”
“Go away, Hazard, I’ve no control over him.”
He touches my throat. “You sure?”
“Not your business.” My heart’s beating wild. I might be slightly jumpy after everything. Who wouldn’t? I tug at my arm.
“I’m not letting you go. I’m thinking you might be a fucking slut with all those marks, and you didn’t let me get some.” He rubs a hand down over my breasts and up between my legs right as I knee him.
I miss his junk, but he jumps enough for me to pull free. I turn to run, hit a wall of solid muscle, and I breathe in slowly.
Tizio. I know that scent, the heat, the way my body reacts immediately.
He gently moves me behind him, and he holds me there, one hand at my waist. Tizio doesn’t move toward Hazard, touch him, or even raise his voice, but there’s a whine I know comes from Hazard.
“If you touch her or so much as speak or even look at Karlee from now on, we’ll be having more than words. Go.”
Hazard yelps, and I pull free of Tizio in time to see the guy run in the opposite direction.
“Real cool, Tizio,” I mutter because now he’s here, I’m furious with him because I want him to want me too. “That’s going to help my reputation here.”
He turns and his eyes are ice on me, and pain lances at that cold and distant expression. “I don’t really give a fuck about your reputation.”
