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Letters that looked like they’d been sprayed on with red neon paint. Oh, the hideousness.
We have a new maneater on the loose. And she likes her men old. How old? Some of our professors know all too well! Right, Rory Sullivan?
No. No. No.
At that moment, I wasn’t even thinking about what this could mean for me.
What would it mean for them? Their careers were on the line. They could get blacklisted.
And Elijah. He was already a high-risk target. He had too much hidden, too much to lose.
The whispers were growing louder. So loud that I wanted to cover my head and run. Just get out, go anywhere else but here.
That’s when I felt a shockingly cold hand clamp down on my shoulder.
“My office, Ms. Sullivan.”
I’ d recognize the oiliness in that voice from miles away. I shivered and jumped aside. “I can walk by myself, thanks,” I spat out. “You don’t need to guide me.”
To his credit, Abbot had his game-face on. He looked apologetic. So much so that any newbie would mistake his deviousness for sincerity.
We did not say anything until the doors of his office closed behind us.
The strategist in me told me I should let him speak first. But the Rory in me? Nah. She needed to get it out.
“I know you’re up to something,” I hissed. “What the hell was that on the locker?”
He immediately raised his hands, his face still very apologetic.
“My goodness, Ms. Sullivan. You need to calm down. I promise I did not know anything about these...preposterousrumors until I saw them just now. How ugly.” He emitted little “tuts” from his lips as he considered me like I was a new drug on the market.
I wanted to slap his obnoxious face.
“So, you’re saying you had nothing to do with this?”
He shook his head emphatically. “Absolutely not. Although... if it turns out to be true, I fear I may have to fire and blacklist everyone involved. You do understand there are consequences here, right?”
He was blackmailing me, the bastard.
As if on cue, he immediately changed track. “Now, tell me about your article. Is it quite ready? What do you plan to speak on?”
I plan to give you a straight fast-forward shove to hell, you asshole.
In the same breath, while I really wanted to just give it to him—for there was only so long that secrets could keep piling up until they drove you past the edge—I also knew we’d worked too hard to lose the game when it was just the prelims.
Three-two-five-nine.
Three-two-five-nine.
“I’m surprised you’re still considering letting me host, sir. Given everything that’s just come to light.” I changed my tone, playing him at his own game.
He frowned. He hadn’t expected that.
“No, of course. I don’t believe rumors unless there is truth to them. Unless... are you in any kind of danger? Do you need my help?”
Oh, the gall of this man. The fake sincerity in his voice made me want to choke him. But I didn’t fancy being called a maneater and getting arrested on the same day.
“No, sir,” I replied through gritted teeth. “‘I’m fine. My article will be about social structures in literature. It’s within the word limit you specified. If it does well, I’ll think of writing a longer paper.”
