The assistant’s fingers sounded like a battle march scurrying across her noisy keyboard, and I took a deep breath, sitting up straight. The annoying clacking anchored me right here in the present moment. The door to my right opened and Alfie Warren, the president, stood there. His lips twitched and he cleared his throat. His bland gray suit wasn’t shocking; he looked the way I might’ve imagined if I’d bothered to give it any thought.
“Come on in, Mr. Daughtler.” The neutral, nearly pleasant tone he used surprised me. He let out a small huff as he stood aside, holding the door open, and I got up and went in. This room was lined with shelves and books, exactly like the outer one, and my fingers tingled with the desire to pull at the nearest volume to see if the ones in here were real. He gestured at a tiny square oak table in the corner, instead of his impressive black steel desk, and that gave me some hope.
The desk was for yelling at people.
A table was for talking.
With new optimism buoying inside me, I smiled at him and went over to take a seat on one of the sturdy green-cushioned chairs, then drummed my fingers on the wooden tabletop. He shut the door and the sound boomed in the quiet room. The air conditioner kicked on and a chill swept me, even though I was wearing a suit. His steps were fast as he paced over to take the seat opposite me. In the center of the table on a tray sat a thick glass carafe full of coffee, mugs, and the typical extras. He poured the coffee, slid a mug in front of me, and then got one for himself. I glanced out the window to our right that looked over the grounds, and the view from this height was odd—the tops of trees seemed more like bushes on the ground, and the people down there were ants scurrying to class. This office was in the tower above the campus chapel, and for a second, I considered chuckling about how power was close to godliness. He snagged a sugar packet, wiggled it between his fingers while staring at me, then ripped it open and dumped it in his cup. The silence began to get to me, but I was nervous and couldn’t bring myself to start the conversation.
He tossed his trash onto the tray.
“Mr. Daughtler,” he said, and I watched a drop of sweat roll down his forehead, starting at his receding dark hairline and trickling toward the tip of his pointed nose. “You’ve put me in a horrible predicament.”
“Me?” I asked and smiled.
His left eye twitched and he rubbed at it. “Based on what I saw—”
“Oh, you watched?” I grinned and winked, not sure what the hell I was doing, but all at once this was fun when his face flushed pink. He wasn’t a bad-looking older man and reminded me of Agent Coulson from theMarvelmovies, with his suit and aging, handsome face. He snatched a napkin from the tray and mopped at his forehead with it.
“I did. I don’t believe you were coerced into action, but for the record would you care to file a complaint with the school?”
“Yeah.”
He cringed and inhaled sharply.
“Those carpets in the library are hard on the knees. How about something softer? That is a real missed opportunity for student safety.” I sipped my coffee to keep from laughing as he seethed in my direction. The hot, bitter brew matched my mood.
“I had to let an amazing instructor go because of you.” He tapped his fingers on the table and glared. “He was perfect at his job—students loved him, he never sent in grades late. I....” His jaw tightened.
“You chose to fire him. I was fine.”
We had a stare-off and sipped our coffees.
“You have two choices,” he said as he set his mug down. “Withdraw and you keep your exemplary academic record or make me eject you from this institution. If you choose the second option, I will personally call every last law school that requests your records and blacklist you.”
Part of me wanted to make him kick me out, if only so I could watch his head spin around right now. Sighing, I finished my coffee in a few long swallows that singed the inside of my mouth and throat, and when I was done thinking and settled my mug onto the table, I grinned at him.
“Point me in the direction of whoever will help me withdraw. I have things to do today.”
He flopped back in his chair, boneless for a moment, then sat up with a long breath that made me feel awful, even though I was the one getting the boot.
“Will youpleasetell your parents that the school appreciates their donations?”
“Seriously?” Irritation wormed through me. I tugged on the nearest book and snorted out a laugh when three came out together. Yep, they weren’t real, either. Shaking my head, I picked them up from the shelf and turned them toward him. His face went red as he glanced down, and I set the hollow books on the table.
His jaw hardened. “No one else would have been offered the option to withdraw. Be clear on this—you have received special treatment, even if it isn’t what you wanted to happen here. I can only imagine you think you can do whatever you please, wherever you wish, with whomever ensnares your attention. You’ve ruined a good man.”
My face boiled with heat and anger twisted my gut into a knot. Instead of yelling, I nodded. “I’ll tell my parents. Flynn isn’t ruined. He’s my boyfriend.”
Alfie winced and his eyes squinted nearly shut.
Somehow that one tiny action from the man had me feeling bad for him, although the little bit of guilt for Alfie Warren didn’t come close to the buckets of it that drenched me when I thought about Flynn’s job. Things had worked out okay, but Flynn had been let go because of me. My stomach churned and I regretted drinking the coffee.
I’d done the right thing by withdrawing, and I kept telling myself that as I sat in the outer office and the assistant handed me a stack of papers to sign to remove myself from the student rolls. My confidence held up until I made it across town and stood outside of my papa’s office about forty minutes later. It had taken the long drive to the northwest edge of the city to have enough time to consider everything that had happened in the president’s office. Papa had a decent-sized practice that mostly handled estates and managed wealth for old-money families in New Gothenburg, such as the Polunins and their friends, many of whom were our neighbors on Vert Island. I almost went home rather than let Papa know I was out here in the hall feeling like an asshole, but some habits never died.
When life was hard I wanted my papa.
I knocked softly and got a vague acknowledgement from inside. Pushing the door open, I braced myself, and the second Papa glanced up and caught my eye, he was on his feet.
