His phone buzzes, he takes it out and frowns. “Shit, I have to go. Now listen, for now concentrate on this new Cadet nonsense. If you want my advice, which you probably don’t, take charge of the situation. Don’t let Gimble steamroller you. Make sureyouchoose who is allowed in. And pick wisely. It’s your chance to recruit students who don’t want to follow the new regime.”
My mind is still spinning at the thought of being divinely bound to Theodora, but I understand what he’s saying. “Makes sense.”
Feniks stands and nods. “Keep your shit together, Drakeward. You’ve got a confusing time ahead of you. Eating humble pie for Theo, while playing Lord of the manor over Gimble. Make sure you don’t get the roles switched.” His lips quirk, so I know he’s trying to be humorous, but fuck him. I don’t have the energy.
“See yourself out,” I mutter.
“With pleasure. After my meeting, I’ll be checking in on Theo. She wants me to…help replenish her Lumina.”
I look up just in time to catch his smirk.
Asshole.
Going to my closet, I kick off my slippers, then cast an eye over the rails.
Hmm. Black denim jeans and a fitted Henley. On top of that I add a leather jacket, then lace my feet into chunky biker boots.
Stifling a sigh, I look at my reflection in the full-length mirror.
The jacket is just distressed enough to say 'I’m not afraid of getting rough,' while the Henley shouts 'I have excellent muscle definition.'
It’s a cliche of a rich-but-slightly-bad-boy outfit, but absolute cat-nip to desperate housewives or middle-aged female teachers who go by the name of Gimble.
As I said earlier.
Fuck.
My.
Life.
???
I stride down the faculty offices hallway until I Gimble’s door, I take a breath, flick the collar of my leather jacket up and brace myself for what’s to come.
One knock, then I push the door open.
The room is filled with that cloying, suffocating perfume she wears. Gimble herself is lounging in a velvet club chair, a glass in her hand.
"Why, Mr. Drakeward," she purrs, eyelashes fluttering with excitement. “What a pleasant surprise. A drink?” Gimble indicates her head towards a collection of bottles on a silver tray.
Don’t mind if I do.
As I pour myself a bourbon, I can feel her eyes raking over body. “I don’t often see you out of uniform,” she says huskily. “More’s the pity.”
I lean against the doorframe, holding the crystal tumbler in my hand.
“What can I do for you, Cosmo?” she asks. The hungry gleam in her eye makes it obvious I could ask for anything.
“The Cadets,” I say, taking a sip. “I don’t want any delays in this program starting up, so send out the list of invitations tonight.”
She blinks a couple of times. “Oh, yes. Your father said you’d be joining.”
I frown at her. “I think you misunderstood him. These will be my cadets. You will be administrating my project, Professor Gimble.”
Gimble doesn’t know what to say to that. “Absolutely. We can work together very closely to make your Father’s idea a success.” She stands up, her silk dress rustling as she walks toward me. She stops just a fraction too close, the heat of her skin radiating off her. "And as we’re colleagues now, Cosmo. Off the clock, you really should call me Lisa."
Play the game, I remind myself.
