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“Making sure that everybody understands who you fucking belong to.” He grins down at me, and my stomach flips as those irresistible dimples appear in his cheeks.
“You said you’d do this only if you caught me with Romano again, which you fucking didn’t. How can I trust you to respect our deal when—”
His gunpowder eyes flick to Damon, and the awareness that everyone at the table is listening hits me. My mouth snaps shut, and Micah uses the moment to produce a nondescript device from the inside pocket of his leather jacket. Everyone at the table blinks or narrows their eyes on it, but I recognize it in a second.
It’s my burner.
The one Romano uses to contact me.
Ice shoots down my spine.
Our communication is compromised and, if I don’t want everything I hold dear to blow up in my face, I have to let him know. Fast.
How the fuck did Micah even get it? I always carry it around.
Except last night. I was too shaken to use my brain at all, besotted with whatever it was that happened between us, let alone to think about sliding it into my purse before I left. Hell, I forgot my purse altogether. I was still in a haze as I drove myself home. Micah must have returned to my office and searched it after I left, way past midnight.
“It would seem that you’re keeping in touch with dear old stepdaddy behind my back. He’s been calling you from a suppressed number all morning.” He inspects the burner as if it were a relic. “I answered and listened. Imagine my surprise to recognize stepdaddy’s voice saying your name. I didn’t talk, so he kept talking, spitting all sorts of nasty shit at you. You really shouldn’t let any man talk to you like that.”
Fire and ice take turns traveling up and down my spine.
“What’s your deal with him, Eva?” he asks quietly, his voice so low that I doubt even Justine heard it, and I’m basically crammed into her.
“You don’t understand,” I whisper, then lick my lips that suddenly feel dry.
“It’s why I’m asking.” He holds the burner in my face. “Romano made threats. Didn’t go into details, as he probably suspected someone else might have your phone since you weren’t talking. But I’ve known the piece of shit long enough to hear it in his tone—he’s determined to keep you in his claws. I don’t know if you slept with him at a certain point and drove him crazy about you, or if you have some other type of business together, or both. But I do know that, no matter what you promised me about staying away from him, you won’t be able to keep it. He won’t let it happen.”
Those eyes are ransacking my mind as they hold my gaze. He’s seeping into my thoughts. I need to do something because, if he presses any further, I’ll break.
“So, I’m going to ask you one last time, Eva. What’s your deal with him?”
“I can’t,” I breathe, fear spreading over my skin. But instead of him snapping, his grin widens.
“Then I guess I’ll find out for myself—” he tucks the burner phone back into the pocket of his jacket, “by keeping you company.” He brings his face so close that his scent of leather and dark chocolate penetrates my skin. “All. The. Fucking. Time.”
The air leaves my lungs, and the blood drains from my head. With my nerves close to snapping, I burst into laughter.
“That’s preposterous.” I cast my eyes around the cafeteria. “You can’t. I mean.” I gesture to the crowd and laugh again. “It doesn’t make any sense. I’m a professor, you’re a student, people will talk.”
“Talk or not, us being constantly together is the only way he can’t get to you. As for the others,” he casts a glance around the cafeteria, “they better get used to seeing us together.”
Of course he’d say that in a dismissive tone. He’s a King, no one on campus would ever dare antagonize him—or me while I’m with him, even though no one would ever look at me the same way again. Both my colleagues and my students will lose respect for me, but won’t dare bully me because they’re too scared of Micah. But what happens when this is over and I’m no longer useful to him?
“Please,” I whisper as I realize there are no good outcomes for me, no matter how I look at it. The only way I’ll get out of this is with a reputation as wrecked as Gertrude’s.
But apparently he’s not even considering options. Everyone at the table is watching, the Kings ruthlessly evaluating us, the girls holding their breath—except Justine, who I can sense is glaring at Micah, but Sade won’t let her intervene, at least not yet.
“As much as I like to hear you beg, Ms. Brannan, the answer is no.” He runs his finger over the side of my face in a soft caress that steals my breath.
I slap his hand off my face, forcing the anger back up from the pit of my stomach. Anger against Romano, anger against Micah, and anger against my own father who thought that paying for my education would be enough to keep me safe. I’ve never had the protection of a man, which is why I built all these walls around me. And I need them now more than ever.
I stand brusquely, my hip bumping against the table, the trays and utensils clattering.
“Well, guess what Mr. Royales?” I bend down and, while I hold that gunpowder-filled gaze, I dip my hand inside his jacket and retrieve the burner. He allows it to happen, watching me with an amused expression on his face. “I’m not going to play along with your twisted plans,” I announce, bringing my nose really close to his. “I won’t do what you tell me to. And guess what?” I hold up the burner. “I won’t tolerate you taking my shit without permission.”
The grin remains plastered on his face but, as I try to make room past him and leave, he catches my wrist.
“Does that mean you’re choosing stepdaddy over me?” he asks with a calm that makes the finest hairs stand up all over me.
