Page 16 of The Alpha’s Unclaimed Mate

“I’m afraid it’s not that simple.” He says it mildly, almost kindly, which is so much worse. “There’s a contract attached to a placement like hers. You pull her now, you owe the academy a withdrawal fee. It’s not a small one.”

“There’s no contract.” My voice climbs, and I drag it back down. “I haven’t signed a thing. She hasn’t set foot in a classroom. This is a scholarship. You handed it to her for free.”

“You’re welcome to withdraw her any day you like.” The corner of his mouth tugs up, slowly, infuriatingly. “It’ll just be an expensive morning. Getting into Crestline is hard, Miss Hale. Getting out is harder. There’s fine print.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Come inside and read it for yourself, then.” He turns and walks back into the office, certain to his bones that I’ll follow.

I stand in the hallway with my pulse slamming and my whole body telling me to grab Mia and run for the car. Instead I step over the threshold because the only thing worse than being alone in a room with this man is making a scene in a corridor full of his staff.

The latch clicks shut behind me.

The office is wide and warm with bookshelves climbing every wall and a broad desk he doesn’t bother to put between us. The whole room smells of him, cedar and clean rain and something underneath I have no name for, and ten years might as well be ten minutes.

“Sit, if you want.” He nods at the chair across from his.

“I’ll stand.”

“Suit yourself.” He leans back against the front edge of the desk, ankles crossed, arms folded, taking me in slowly from my flats to my flyaway hair. “You’ve been crying.”

“I have not.”

“Your eyes are red.” His gaze moves over my face, careful, missing nothing. “You didn’t sleep. There are shadows under them you didn’t have at the park.”

“That’s none of your business.” I take a step back and find a bookshelf at my spine.

He uncrosses his ankles and closes the distance, not crowding, not looming, just closing the space I keep opening until the heat rolls off his chest and the whole room shrinks down to the two of us.

“Why are you so desperate to run from a free ride for your daughter?” His voice drops, low, almost coaxing, and my knees go weak, traitor that my body is. “What is it about this town that’s got you this frightened?”

“Nothing frightens me.”

“No?” His head tilts. His eyes fall to my mouth, the same as they did on that wet curb the first night, then climb back up to mine without apology. “Your heart’s going like a rabbit’s. I can hear it from here, Jessa.”

My breath snags somewhere behind my ribs. “You’re imagining things.”

“Am I.” It isn’t a question, and he isn’t smiling anymore.

We’re inches apart. His focus is total, pinning me where I stand, and God help me, my body sways toward his a half-inch before my mind hauls it back. A decade of hating this man, of building him into a villain in my head, and one look from across a room dismantles all of it. The unfairness of it makes my eyes sting all over again.

“I have to be at work by nine,” I whisper, but I don’t move.

“Then go.” He doesn’t move either, his mouth curving, slow and certain. “Door’s right behind you. Nobody’s keeping you here.”

His hand lifts, and for one suspended second, I’m sure he’s going to touch my face. He brushes a loose strand of hair back from my cheek instead with two fingers, barely there, and the contact rips a line of fire straight down my spine. I should slap his hand away. I don’t.

“Mia starts today.” His voice has gone rough at the edges, his eyes holding mine. “Classes start at eight sharp. Don’t be late dropping her off. It makes a bad impression.”

The spell breaks. I duck under his arm and get the desk between us, both hands shaking, breath sawing in my chest like I’ve run a mile.

“This isn’t over,” I get out.

“No.” Marcus settles back against the desk, entirely too pleased with himself, watching me retreat to the door. “I don’t imagine it is. Oh and, Mrs. Hale, next time, wear your wedding ring.”

I stare at him, at the slow, satisfied smile curling on his lips. Bastard.

I walk out with my heart roaring in my ears and the awful, certain knowledge that I’ve just lost the first round to a man who doesn’t even know what we’re fighting over.