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Neither do I. Talking with her out in the hallway. I can almost see them together. What game is she playing now? Trying to get her allies together? Did she know him before coming here?
What were they really talking about?
Did he touch her?
“So I got in her face a little. Reminded her she’s not here to make friends. Then out of nowhere, she tells Aspen she was on her way to the library.”
Since when is she interested in the library? “I see.”
“You know Aspen. She jumped at the idea. She doesn’t get it.”
“No. She wouldn’t.” It isn’t easy to be fond of her kindness at a time like this. After everything she’s been through, she’s the last person who should be kind. That’s one thing she certainly didn’t inherit from me.
“I’m not about to let Aspen spend a minute alone with her.”
“Follow your instincts on this. I know you’ll keep her safe.” I tent my fingers under my chin, staring over his head at the wall but seeing Delilah. Flirting with Marcel, touching his arm, making the same suggestive comments to him as she’s made to me so many times.
“That bitch needs to stay away from my wife.”
“Leave that to me.”
“You’ll keep her away?”
“I’ll do what I can. Including talking to her and Marcel. They have class together, you say?” He nods. “Not for much longer. Get to class or wherever you need to be now. I’ll take care of things.”
Marcel will be lucky to have a face by the time I’m finished with him. Nobody touches what belongs to me—and as long as she’s staying with me, under my watch, Delilah is mine.
Within fifteen minutes of my sending for him, Marcel steps into my office. The sight of his face turns my stomach while my fists clench under the desk. “You wanted to see me?” he asks nonchalantly.
A moment later, Delilah knocks at the partially open door. The apprehension written on her face turns to understanding once she sets eyes on Marcel. “Sorry,” she mumbles. “I can wait until you’re finished.”
She thinks she’s clever. “I wanted to see both of you at once, as a matter of fact. Come in. Close the door behind you.”
Marcel is still clueless, his gaze bouncing back and forth between Delilah and me. “What’s this about?”
“I understand the two of you have a class together.”
“Yeah. We have math together.” Marcel glances at her again. “So?”
“Not anymore.” I pull up his schedule on my laptop. “You’ll be taking math Tuesday and Thursday afternoons for the rest of the semester.”
His eyes go wide. “Why?”
It’s not his reaction I’m watching. It’s hers. She’s staring at the floor, chewing her lip. Unwilling to look at me. She’s hiding something.
“Because I said so. I’m sure you won’t have trouble making the change.” I forward the information to his school email address. “And now you have the time and room number in your email account.”
“I don’t understand why this is happening.” His gaze turns hostile as he places his clenched fist on my desk.
“Are you forgetting whose office you’re standing in?” I shoot a pointed look toward his hands, which he shoves into his pockets with a grunt. “It’s happening because I say it is. Now, the two of you have no reason to meet up in the halls and chat.”
I turn my full attention to her and relish the way she squirms. “Right?” I prompt.
“Right,” she whispers before sliding a glance toward Marcel.
I look at him, smiling, though I know the expression doesn’t reach my eyes. Nor do I intend it to. He’s lucky he’ll live beyond this moment. “Do you have anything else to say?” I ask.
He blows out a heavy sigh but isn’t stupid enough to argue. “No. Message received.”
