I knelt like a fool under Mr. Prestonâs desk, which fortunately was built to shield me from the outer world.
Every step he took made me wince, my body overflowing with adrenaline. I just prayed that he wouldnât sit down, that he had just forgotten something.
Speaking of forgettingâ¦my satchel. I had set it down next to his desk. It shone in the room like a glowing neon sign: Avery James is kneeling under the desk, almost pissing herself with fear.
âAre you coming to dinner with my father next weekend?â Penelope asked, her voice as soft as a summer breeze.
Mr. Preston stopped beside the desk, just in front of my satchel. The hope that he wouldnât notice it vanished like a speck of dust in the wind.
Before I knew it, he shifted his weight and elegantly kicked the bag under the desk, hidden from Penelopeâs eyes. Why had he done that?
At that moment, I couldnât think about it, because he strode around the corner and sat down on the leather chair, his knees close to my face. Fuck. I tried to breathe as quietly as possible, not to make a sound, and yet I felt like my pounding heartbeat was echoing throughout the room.
âI donât know yet,â he returned curtly, obviously disinterested by the prospect of spending time with her family.
The chairâs castors squeaked and before I knew it, he had moved so far forward that my head was only inches from his crotch. This bastard had done it on purpose, knowing full well that I was hiding down here.
His body heat mixed with mine, my senses all too alerted by his proximity. No, stop thinking anything inappropriate, I warned myself, heâs a potential killer.
His hips moved a little closer, and I crashed my chin right between his legs. Okay, if he hadnât noticed that I was down here, he certainly knew it now.
His whole body tensed, and he stilled, motionless as a statue.
âThink about it. You havenât been with us for a long time. Besides, my father is already suspicious about the student. I would be grateful if you would lull him into safety. You know how he is when something doesnât go his way.â I almost felt sorry for her. With the stories Noah had told me, I could imagine exactly what kind of man her father was.
My professor exhaled in defeat.
âFine, Iâll stop by for a minute.â An evening with Ms. Arden, how , I sneered. This was the most inappropriate moment to be jealous.
These two had a past and a secret that connected them. Me and Alexander had neither, especially no past. And no future.
Stop it, Avery, I admonished myself again.
âThank you,â she replied, her voice more cheerful, girlish.
Without another word, she turned and left the room, her footsteps growing quieter before the tapping sound vanished into thin air.
I knew what was comingâa tantrum. Oh, I would have loved to curl up and die right then and there.
âThere we have the little thief.â He rolled back and grabbed me roughly by the arm, yanking me up and staring angrily into my eyes, his look the epitome of wrath. âExplain yourself.â
How was I supposed to explain myself? Iâm sorry, because I was looking for evidence that you could be Oliviaâs killer? No.
âDonât stand there looking like a moron. Open your mouth.â He crossed his arms, growing more impatient with each breath. âOr do you want to take this to the principal?â I pressed my lips together, having to think of what lie to tell him. I was short of time, so my resources were limited.
âCigarettes, sir.â I took them out of my pocket and presented them to him, forcing myself to put on an embarrassed expression. Something told me he didnât quite believe my excuse.
âFor two stupid cigarettes you risked your place at the academy? Youâre dumber than I thought.â Ouch.
âProbably. There are stupid things Iâve done lately.â His jaw tensed, his gaze deadly. I hoped he enjoyed the sideswipe.
âRight, thatâs why you ended up here. Because you were stupid and wanted to play with fire. Literally.â It almost sounded like he was taking my stay here personally.
âMy intentions were noble. Something you would never understand. And I would do it again. Always,â I hissed, my voice raised. âBut what am I talking about? Youâll never see me as anything but a criminal.â He seemed almostâ¦offended. At least thatâs how it looked for a moment before he put on his usual expression, his mask.
âMy profession doesnât permit me to see anyone here as anything but criminals.â
Deep down, I wished he would have asked why I was really here, why I had taken on this burden. But he didnât. He didnât care.
âThen why donât you take me to your aunt, throw me at her feet, point your finger at me? And shove your fucking cigarettes up your ass.â I didnât want to lose my temper, but his words had triggered something inside me, a frustration I didnât understand.
âIs that how you talk to a professor?â He took a step closer, and I had nowhere to go, couldnât avoid his menacing calmness.
âNo. Thatâs how I talk to Alexander Preston,â I hissed.
Something unfamiliar flashed in his blue eyes.
âIf you were talking to Alexander Preston, youâd be lying on this desk by now, moaning and begging me not to stop. But you donât, so get out of here, or youâll have to keep the cook company in the kitchen for the rest of your stay.â I gritted my teeth, wishing I could have clawed his eyes out.
âIf you werenât my professor, Iâd make your life a living hell,â I retorted waspishly.
âYouâre already doing that. Go.â
I reached for my satchel and slung it over my shoulder.
Without another word, I disappeared and didnât look back.
This was