Read with BonusRead with Bonus

8

My gaze flies to Jonathan, but his attention is on Chris. “Hey. That’s not fair. She’s without a partner. And so am I.”

“It’s best you learn from students who are still working on the fundamentals, seeing as you’re coming into my class at such a late date. I’ll send an email and bring you into the appropriate group,” Jonathan says.

“But—”

“I hope you enjoyed your first class of Business Analytics. If you need help with the assignment, you can book some time with me on the university’s intranet. I’m available Monday and Tuesday afternoons,” Jonathan says.

I turn to go, wanting to skip ahead of Chris before Jonathan finishes with him. Chris sees me moving and mutters a quick okay to Jonathan. I’ve barely made it to the door when his arm brushes mine, stopping me in my tracks. “You’ve been avoiding me,” he whispers.

The barbed wire ball begins to ping inside me, opening more bloodied wounds. There will be nothing left of me but a hollowed out husk. I have avoided him. For reasons obvious to us both.

“I’d still like to catch up your assignment, Miss Evans. I have those notes you asked for. I have time to go over them now,” Jonathan says.

“Make another time. Tell him it doesn’t suit right now,” Chris’s eyes flash a warning. He wants more money. It’s been a few days and he’s probably burned through what I gave him. But there’s nothing else to give. Not unless I ask Dad and that won’t happen, because then he’ll ask why I need it and I can’t tell him.

I’ll have to ask for more shifts at the café. And skip lunch. And breakfast. I can afford one meal a day. If it’s Ramen.

When I turn, Jonathan has narrowed his gaze on Chris’s back. His body is still. Solid. I haven’t answered either of them and the hole I want to open under my feet and swallow me isn’t opening up.

Neither is a good option, but Jonathan is the lesser evil. As long as I can control myself.

I clutch my laptop so tight I hear the casing squeak and step back into the sanctuary of the lecture room. “I’ll catch you around another time, Chris.”

“I’ll catch up with you soon, Catherine. It’s a promise.” A tremble works through me and I feel the weight of his burning gaze in the long pause before he walks away.

I don’t know how long I can do this. But I can’t tell Dad. Or Tophy. Not even Adeline. The repercussions would be devastating. Hey. Chris was my first sexual experience. Come and see the evidence. My one and only has photos and a video. Hours of entertainment. Bring popcorn. No imagination needed. Just the thing a father wants to see of his daughter.

“Is he really your friend?”

“He’s someone, all right,” I whisper. The air has gone from thick and heavy to become charged with nipple-beading intensity.

Jonathan scrutinizes my face. “If he’s hassling you—”

“It’s nothing I can’t handle, Professor,” I snap and internally wince. “Look, I really should be going.”

“I really did want to ask you who you’re partnering up with for your assignment,” he says, stopping me in my tracks.

The ground grows sticky and catches my feet. I want to walk into the sanctuary of the unknown outside. But I don’t. Instead, I half turn to face him. “What about it?”

A list of class mates runs through my head. None will be happy to let me into their group. Not when they’re already partway through and will have to rework everything they’ve done so far. Besides, the hours of work I’ve already done will need to be rewritten to suit the idea they’ve come up with and I already like the fabricated company I developed for the sake of the assignment.

“Are you listening to anything I’ve said?” Jonathan asks.

My head clears and I realize I’ve vagued out. Again. I blink back into the moment. “What?”

A smile tugs his lips and jolts straight through me. “As I was saying, you probably don’t want to join another group and personally the company you designed for the sake of the assignment is brilliant, quite frankly.”

I ignore my stupid heart fluttering. “Oh.”

“You still need to satisfy the group component, though,” he says.

“I understand. Thank you, Professor.”

Lines mar Jonathan’s brow. “What do you understand? And please, don’t call me Professor. Not when we’re alone. It makes me feel old.”

His smile lingers, softening his words. Dark stubble coats his jaw and there are shadows under his eyes. He isn’t old. I don’t see the years between us. They don’t matter to me. I do see that he looks as though he’s had as little rest as I have recently. “What would you have me call you?”

“How about your assignment partner?” he says.

My gaze skips to his and I fall into twin pools of vivid blue. There has to be an ocean that color. That wasn’t what I expected him to say. Then again, most of what he says to me is unexpected. “I…don’t understand.”

“I’m happy to work with you to satisfy the group work component of the assignment.”

“That’s absurd.” I try to ignore the thrill that races through me at the thought of hours spent working together. Dangerous and far too tempting. “You’re a teacher. My teacher. I’m sure there’s a code of ethics that prohibits you from working on an assignment with a student.”

The accusations would fly. Especially when they find out I’m really the daughter of a billionaire mogul. I want to make it on my own two feet.

I want people to see I’m more than the money my father has made.

“Not if we publish a dissertation,” he says.

“It’s not a dissertation. It’s an undergraduate assignment,” I say. My heart rate picks up as adrenaline courses through me. There’s no way I can possibly do this. No way I’m ready for something of this magnitude. I’m an undergrad. A run of the mill business student.

Jonathan steps close enough that his body heat sinks through my sweatshirt. My head tips back and I peer up at his eyes. Navy lines striate from his pupils, adding depth to the brilliant blue.

“Now that I have your attention again, an undergraduate assignment can serve as the foundation for a dissertation, especially since what I’ve read from you so far is high enough quality and the points you’re submitting are original with depth and potential for further research. You have to admit, the amount of work you’re turning in so far is because of that. The level at which you’re conducting your research is more graduate than undergrad. We can easily expand what you’ve started into a dissertation,” he says, and lifts a brow. “Usually an undergrad project requires finding a graduate advisor who can see the potential. I am. And I do.”

I step back because the temptation to close the distance between us and meld to his body is overwhelming. “I…”

He lifts his hands as though to touch me, but they drop back to his sides when I stiffen and glance at the still open door. Anyone could walk in here and see us. “Of course, I would have the honor of having my name co-published with yours.”

My hand tightens on the strap of my backpack and I swing my attention back to him. He’s serious. One hundred percent serious.

The ball of barbed wire spins from my stomach to my head, gouging the inside with words and memories that have followed me throughout my life. Poor little rich girl. Doesn’t matter what you do or how hard you work, you really don’t have to. Your father is wealthier than God. You have it so easy.

Yeah, so easy no one can see past the dollars.

Until him.

Until he finds out who I really am, that is. When he does, everything will change. I’m not deluded enough to know that it won’t. Those dollar bills will form a harder and more insurmountable wall than any other substance known to man.

For a second, I let my fantasy run through my head. That my accomplishments will be seen as mine alone and nothing to do with the Fowler name. I know better. “Thank you, Jonathan. But…”

“Not only would you leave this university with your undergraduate degree, but also a published dissertation. This will also be good for my career.” He pins me with a stare I can’t pull away from. A stare that drills into me and rips open the place I keep that fantasy buried deep. “But it would launch yours.”

How does he know to say that? How does he know the very thing I want?

To be seen as more than the Fowler name. Beyond Blue Sky. To stand in my own light.

I stare at him. Waiting for a punch line that doesn’t come. He simply waits, locking me within a gaze that pulls me in, in, in.

My head spins. I can have what I want. Just for a period of time, this fantasy can be a reality. I can ignore how bad of an idea this actually is. Just as bad as kissing him was.

But I’m not going into this blind. I know exactly what I’ll be signing up for and, for a time, I’ll let myself buy into my fantasy.

To experience it like it could be real.

I know better, but the dangling carrot entices.

Too tempting.

I reach up and take a bite of poisoned orange enticement. “Okay.”

Previous Chapter
Next Chapter