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“Is that any way to talk to me, your generous benefactor?”
I stand quietly.
Generous, my ass. The money isn’t even his.
Trent continues, “I’m here to inform you that your first assignment is approaching. The books are in my library. On the desk. Remember, you will be telling the staff and me everything valuable you have learned from the stack of books in one month.”
Stack?
As in multiple?
Dread builds in my stomach. I don’t let him see it, pretending to be unaffected by his tyrant behavior.
“Thanks! Got it,” I say in an overly sunshiny manner, turning away from him, bound for my room.
“I’m not finished with you.” His voice doesn’t raise, yet it manages to boom through the hallway.
I stop in my tracks. Afraid of what he will say next. Afraid of whatever way he’s found to torture me this time.
“You need to clean my gym,” he demands.
“Anything else, sir?” I spit out.
He grins, and again, I feel a pang of excitement when I can make him do that.
“Don’t be late tomorrow.”
“Why?”
“You’re not to ask questions, Payton. You’re to listen. Do you understand?” He speaks to me as if I’m a child.
I’m pissed off. So pissed off, it’s hard to focus.
I nod, not trusting myself with words, but that’s apparently not good enough.
His right eyebrow lifts. “Words.”
“Yes,” I bite out slowly, as sarcastically as possible.
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, I understand.” My mouth is tight enough to make the words come out in a rigid tone that barely escapes the barrier of my teeth.
“That will do. Even though I did enjoy that last sir you used. I expect you not to be late tomorrow. I know you spent time with your friend today after class ended.”
“How do you know that?”
“Your phone.”
“My phone . . . ?”
The most genuine smile I’ve ever seen on him graces his face. Of course, it’s at my expense. “When I turned the phone back on, I installed a Find My Phone app.”
“You tracked me?”
“Are you surprised?”
My face must reflect horror because he laughs, and it makes me angrier.
