Page 161 of Forever Relentless

“Still working out the basics,” he told me.

We left the main campus and crossed a street, and I tugged on his arm to stop him.

“Wait.” She was at a window in a restaurant, eating alone.

“Noah . . . She looks like she wants to be alone.”

“I’ll just text her.”

When she gave her phone the finger, I couldn’t resist letting her know I could see her. I wanted to go in, but Dante wanted to keep moving.

“You can fix this later, yeah?” he murmured. “I don’t think it’s a two-minute conversation between you two.”

“Yeah.” I watched her pretend to ignore me. “I’m coming,” I assured him. “Where are we going?”

“Still thinking,” he murmured.

“Well, we’re heading somewhere, Dante, or are we just having a stroll on a Sunday afternoon?”

He smiled as we rounded a corner, and the Dean’s Residence was at the corner of the street.

“Here? Why?” I thought about it. “Did you take us the long way to get here?” I asked him suspiciously.

“I did. I needed to walk it out and see how it would play.” He turned his head to look at me. “Follow my lead, don’t be too honest, but don’t lie.”

“Dante!” I hissed at him as we reached the path that led to the main door. “There’s reckless, and then there’s Russian roulette with a loaded gun.”

He grinned. It had a slight tinge of crazy. Shit. But Dante didn’t usually smile like that unless he had something.

“Trust me.”

I did trust him, but I wasn’t sure I trusted this. Going to the dean was the kind of move that could collapse the whole thing if it went wrong.

Or it could work.

He rang the doorbell, and I looked behind us to make sure we weren’t standing out. I mean, of course we were. Why the heck would he and I be standing in the spring sunshine on the dean’s doorstep on a Sunday? The possibilities were endless, and there was a plain fact that there was no possible reason why either of us would be here.

Dean Cole answered the door wearing a pair of light stone chinos and a short-sleeved checked button-down. He looked about as casual as I had ever seen him.

“Spence?” He glanced at me. “Matthews?” His eyes flicked between us, and then a frown line appeared on his forehead. “Do I want to know?”

“Dean,” Dante greeted him.

The dean stepped back to let us in, and I looked around his home as he led us to a study. Dark leather, dark wood — everything felt very oppressive. The large window behind his desk overlooked a garden, and it was open to let in fresh air.

He sat with his back to the window.

Figures. The view was outside, and he opted to look inwards. I struggled to see how he and Savvy were related, never mind father and daughter.

“Sit.” He pointed at the two seats across from his desk.

We still hadn’t said a word about why we were there, and he hadn’t commented.

Dean Cole looked at us over his steepled fingers, and then his gaze rested on Dante.

“Do I guess, or are you going to tell me why you’re here? If it’s to ask for Savannah’s hand, the answer is no.”

I’d been taking my sunglasses off and almost dropped them. I looked at Dante to see if he was offended, but he was grinning.