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“Take your seats,” he announces, his voice resonant, and my legs move of their own accord.
I slide into a chair near the back, opening my notebook as if the neat lines could keep the chaos of my thoughts in order. I focus on the whiteboard, on the stark black of the letters and numbers, letting them anchor me.
“Today we’ll be discussing market strategies,” Professor Griffin begins, and I nod along, jotting down notes with a diligence born of desperation. His gaze sweeps over the class, analytical, dispassionate—until his eyes meet mine again.
My hand trembles slightly, betraying me, as I force myself to write, to concentrate on anything but the way my name seems to hang unspoken in the space between us.
Brielle Rose. Just another student.
But his stare suggests otherwise, whispers of recognition that stir the air, laden with something forbidden. I press my pen harder against the paper, the nib scratching audibly.
Briefly, I think about the way his eyes looked over my body…
“Miss Rose, care to share your thoughts on the subject?” His question is a spotlight, sudden and blinding, and all eyes turn to me.
“Um, diversification can mitigate risks,” I manage, my voice steady despite the quicksilver dance of my pulse.
“Be that as it may.” His eyes narrow on me. “That’s not what we were talking about.”
Busted.
“Oh, I…”
“I don’t care for excuses in my class, so if you’re not going to take it seriously, I suggest you get out.”
Everyone is staring at me, and my lips fall open. This has nothing to do with me paying attention. He just doesn’t want me here. I don’t say anything else, letting my eyes fall back to my notebook.
Thankfully, he doesn’t pinpoint me for the remainder of class.
“Any questions?” His voice is a low rumble, a challenge wrapped in velvet. Nobody says anything. “Good,” he says, but there’s an edge to that one word, sharp enough to cut. “Then, you’re all dismissed.”
I stand up quick, gathering my things and making a beeline for the door, wanting to put as much distance between the two of us as possible.
“Miss Rose.” He’s behind his desk now, leaning back in his chair with a stillness that seems almost predatory. “Wait for me.”
My mouth goes dry. “I…why?”
He doesn’t answer, just tilts his head in a silent command. I nod, though every instinct screams at me to run. My fingers twist together, tangling in the hem of my skirt, seeking something to hold on to.
The door clicks shut with the last departing student, and suddenly it’s too quiet, too intimate. I stand, my legs surprisingly steady as I make my way to the front of the class.
“Is there something I can help you with?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
“Drop the class, Brielle.” Levi’s words are a cold splash in my face.
“Drop it?” My voice trembles with incredulity, and I clutch my notebook to my chest as if it could shield me from his piercing gaze. “Why would I?—”
“Listen.” His laugh is short, humorless. “I’m not going to be part of the train wreck when your father finds out you’ve been in bed with Conrad and Grayson…not to mention when the board fires them for sleeping with a student.”
“I’m not going to tell anyone…”
“I don’t believe you.”
“It’s over.”
“Not what you said the other night.”
“You don’t understand.”
