“Like I’d get into trouble. I’ll just get Dad to donate some more money. Problem solved.” She throws her hands out in explanation. How nice it must be to feel untouchable.
Which confirms what I suspected about how Riley continues to pass her courses.
“Good plan. I’m sure your dad would be thrilled to put his hand in his pocket so you can hook up with your professor.”
There are puffs of smoke coming out of Riley’s ears, so she’s thinking about what I’ve said. Looks like she’s more than a little scared of her father, despite the bravado. After a couple of seconds her face lights up. “What Jennifer doesn’t know won’t hurt her,” she sing-songs, and tossing her hair, saunters off, bored by my lack of intel.
I can’t believe the universe has cornered me into working with Ethan. Bella is going to laugh her head off. Like she did last night when I told her we’d agreed toFight Clubrules and planned to avoid one another for a while.
We’re both going to have to act like responsible, mature adults and ignore the lingering energy between us, that’s all. How hard can it be?
Chapter Nine
Ethan
No matter which way you look at it, I’m screwed. I can’t think of a plausible excuse to not supervise Sadie. Because Jennifer is right. Her thesis sits right in my area of expertise.
And if I argue too strongly, Jen will smell a rat. She’s not dense. And I made a promise to Sadie.
I also don’t feel like I want to risk her ending up under Martin Collins.
There’s a good reason for the bad blood between Martin and me.
He was a new lecturer when I was an undergrad and after he gave me a shitty mark on an assessment, I went to the unit convenor—who happened to be Jennifer at the time—and made a complaint. When my essay was re-marked, I ended up with a high distinction and a lifelong enemy in Martin. Because instead of letting it go, he took it to the department head and complained. He was hauled over the coals for both the crappy mark and complaining about my request for a re-mark. All thatis to say, I don’t trust his ability to judge her work fairly. Because I can already see she thinks outside the accepted norms. Martin most certainly does not.
Then there’s his general creepiness with women. None of the girls in my classes ever wanted to be alone in a room with him. Over ten years later, he hasn’t improved. I’ve only been here a couple of days, and I’ve noticed how his eyes follow the young women in the department. Including Sadie. And I don’t trust him.
I also know he’s a good friend of the vice-chancellor, so, as Jennifer put it when we discussed him yesterday, we’re stuck with him. Unless I can come up with a good reason Jennifer should supervise Sadie, I’m cornered. The whole ‘you’re a woman too’ thing didn’t fly. Neither should it have, to be honest. It was a desperate grab for an excuse.
The sad thing is, in other circumstances—for instance, if I hadn’t slept with her, or she was a he, or she was gay—I’d be thrilled to be supervising her. I’ve had a look at her submission, and it’s fresh and interesting. Well written. Well argued. Clever.
Bottom line? I’m well and truly screwed. Again. Or is it still?
Jennifer insists I join her and Martin for their conversation about who will be supervising whom. Which he’s clearly not happy about. Especially when I hand him the colour-coded chronology of Ancient Egyptian rulers I give my first-year students.
“Yes, thank you, Ethan. I’ve been lecturing at this university for ten years. I know the chronology of the Pharaohs,” he says.
“Well that’s a development because I seem to remember—” I start, leaning back in my chair and crossing my ankles.
“I don’t have to allow him to speak to me like—” Martin tries to talk over me.
“Gentlemen, gentlemen,” Jennifer interrupts, her gaze travelling from one to the other. “Surely, after all these years we can let this go?”
I hold up my hands in surrender.
“I shouldn’t have to put up with this. I’m a respected …” Martin pauses and gives me a glare when I snort. “I’m a respected member of the faculty.”
Jennifer, who I know for a fact would love to get rid of Martin and is waiting for him to make a big enough gaff to justify it, metaphorically pats him on the shoulder.
“Of course you are, Martin. Nobody is suggesting otherwise. Now, can we get down to discussing the PhD students? I have another meeting to get to this afternoon.”
Half an hour of bickering later, I somehow find myself lobbying hard to supervise Sadie. Because I can’t, in good conscience, allow an incompetent, small-minded dick like Martin to get hold of such a sparkling mind. He won’t get the best out of her, and her thesis will suffer as a result. And that would be a tragedy. I’m going to have to suck it up. And get used to cold showers.
“If you think I can’t see what’s going on here, you’re mistaken,” Martin hisses at me as we leave Jennifer’s office.
That gets my attention. Surely he hasn't picked up on the tension between Sadie and me? Because that would be bad. I stop mid-stride and turn to give him one of my father’s death glares. “And what is it you think is going on, Martin?”
“I know you and Jennifer are tight. It’s obvious she brought you in here to try and slide you over my head into her job when she retires. Which is why she’s giving you the best PhD candidate. But it won’t work. Anthony will be hearing about this.”
