He smirked at me. “I promise you nobody from the class would be there.”
“Have you had to deal with this sort of thing before? Do you often meet with your students… after hours?”
I looked into his eyes and a grin formed on his lips.
“You, Ms. Blake, would be my first. I can assure you I do not make it a habit to pursue any of my students.”
I narrowed my eyes at him as I thought over his words. Did I want to take that chance? I’d just wasted three years of my life on a man who didn’t give a shit. What was wrong with wanting to feel wanted? This man wants me. But then again, this is my career he could be messing with. What if we did get caught? How much trouble would I be in? I could lose my scholarship.
He tilted my face up to look at him. “You’re thinking too much. You have nothing to worry about,” he reassured me. “Think about it, and we’ll talk more on Wednesday.”
He pulled back from me and it wasn’t until then that I finally felt like I could breathe. It wasn’t that he was suffocating; it was that his presence swallowed me whole. He was so intense and domineering, and I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t a turn-on. It was such a damn turn-on, and my wet panties were proof.
When he took a seat at his desk, I quickly made my way to the door, opened it, and then walked out. I couldn’t believe what’d just happened. Did he just proposition me? I didn’t know what to think of any of it. It was all so crazy.
One thing was for sure, though. It might only be ten o’clock in the morning, but I was ready for a drink.
Chapter 8
Mason
What the fuck was I doing?
Dinner? I’m losing my fucking mind.
I’d just sat down in the chair in my home office when my phone rang. I looked at the name lighting up the screen and debated on whether or not to answer, but I knew he’d continue to call until I picked up.
“Yeah,” I said, taking the call. I never called him Dad. He’d lost that privilege a long time ago.
I should have let it go to voicemail, but I knew he would have continued to call until I picked up.
“Mason, I have tickets at the office for the charity event next Friday. Come get them by this Thursday,” he said in a tone that demanded his orders to be followed.
I sighed and rubbed at my eyes, shaking my head. I knew what charity event he wanted me to attend. It was a foundation to help women and children who were sexually abused. He did shit like this all the time. It amazed me how he could be so nonchalant.
I wanted to tell him to fuck off and go to Hell, but I wouldn’t. I’d just throw in a little something to stir the pot like I usually did. Just to make sure he remembered that I knew what kind of man he truly was.
“Do you really think it’s appropriate for you to even attend this event?”
The line was silent like I knew it would be. He was definitely fuming on the other end, but he’d never have an outburst. He was a smart man. He was a lawyer, after all. He knew better than to make confessions over the phone.
I heard him clear his throat before he spoke again. “Come by any time. If I’m not here, just ask Melanie to get them for you.”
Then he was gone. It was how our conversations usually played out. There was nothing truly personal between us anymore.
*
I woke the next morning around eleven and replayed the scene in my office. I must have lost my mind. I didn’t date. I picked women up, they served their purpose, and then I was done. What was it about her that made me lose all sense? It wasn’t the innocence that flowed off her in waves; I’d dealt with that plenty of times. I couldn’t figure it out.
I sighed.
Dating was something I never did. It led to hopes for more, even when told nothing more would come. I’d learned my lesson the hard way. After John Cline won his big case when I was nineteen, any chance of me having a normal relationship was lost. Everyone wanted to know his prodigy and the women wanted the fame and money. And even though I knew it was something I never truly wanted, it made me despise him even more. It was as if he’d planned on ruining every aspect of my life.
I sat up in bed, felt a pain behind my eyes and noticed the glass on my bedside table. I shouldn’t have drunk so much scotch the night before, but then I remembered why I had.