5. Elle
Chapter 5
Elle
N o one can dictate what you do with your life, Miss Roche.
Professor Stonebridge had no idea how wrong he was about that. Although I had to admit, the idea of changing my major was tempting. My mind whirled through possibilities as I stared at the ceiling late into the night.
What would I study if given the choice? What would I choose to do with my life if I didn’t have my father breathing down my neck? If I wasn’t Giselle Roche, who would I want to be?
I sighed and rolled over, burying my face in my pillow.
It didn’t make any difference. No matter what I wanted, I had my father and his reputation to contend with. And maybe deep down, I was scared to defy him. Scared to go against his wishes. Not because he was a powerful man, but because he was my dad, and I still hoped that by doing what he wanted, I would finally earn his love.
God, that sounded so pathetic and desperate.
When the first blush of dawn filled my dorm room, I gave up on sleep and started my day. With midterms looming on the horizon, I had a ton of homework to catch up on. When I rested my laptop on my knees, I found myself navigating to the university’s course catalog online, studying the degrees offered. There were so many to choose from.
Mathematics, engineering, linguistics, theater, physics, history, science.
The only thing I knew I liked was my lit class with Stonebridge. Sure, it was hot as fuck to look at him commanding a room, or listen to him read. But I really loved those stuffy old poets. I recognized the longing in their text as my own—the ache to be noticed, the heat of a lover’s touch. It made me feel less alone in the world.
That reason wasn’t good enough to change my major though…
At seven-thirty on the dot, my door opened. Helene breezed in, looking crisp and flawless in her white pumps that cost more than my textbooks. I felt like a bridge troll in comparison, wearing my pink donut pajamas, hunched over my laptop.
“Good morning, sister,” she chirped, yanking open drawers without invitation. “If Daddy found out you were still in bed at this hour, you’d never hear the end of it.”
I snapped my laptop shut, fighting the urge to fling it at her. It wouldn’t solve anything, but it would probably feel pretty good in the moment.
“What are you doing here, Helene?” I asked. “I didn’t know you were coming.”
She turned to face me with a pile of clothes draped over one arm. Perfect eyeliner, perfect hair, perfect manicure. It made me want to scream. Wasn’t she tired of it? I used to be so jealous of her when we were growing up. Somehow, Helene managed to meet Dad’s astronomical expectations for us and she made it look easy. Didn’t even break a sweat doing it. She never slept in, never caved and binged on junk food. Hell, she didn’t even own a pair of sneakers.
For thirty years, she plucked and tucked and powdered herself into the daughter that Dad wanted her to be. What was the real Helene like underneath all that?
“I’m here to intervene on your behalf,” she said. “Daddy said your grades are abysmal, Giselle. That’s not acceptable. So, I thought I’d drop by and have a little chat. Get dressed. We’re going out for coffee.”
“I have homework, you know,” I pointed out.
Helene waved off my protest.
“Oh, I can’t stay long. I’m closing a deal with a high-profile client today at the firm. Your homework can wait until after I leave.”
She waltzed out the door, not bothering to wait for a response. I could hear her in the corridor as she made a call, waiting for me to follow her orders and get dressed.
Seething, I ignored the outfit she’d selected for me, and picked my own clothes. A small, meager rebellion, but I would take it.
When I emerged from my dorm room, Helene was still on the phone. She held up a finger, gesturing for me to wait. I crossed my arms, annoyed. Then her gaze finally fell on me and she grimaced. Covering the phone, she hissed at me.
“What the hell are you wearing?”
I shoved my hands into the pockets of my slouchy jeans. My Fleetwood Mac crop top and chunky autumnal orange sweater were comfy and cozy, but a far cry from the designer clothes the Roche family usually wore.
“Would you like me to change?” I offered. “I just got these new shorts. They say BITE ME across the ass in sparkly pink letters. Super cute.”
Helene blanched. I stifled a snort of laughter, knowing she would shit a brick over that.
“You don’t wear those in public, do you?” she asked.
I shrugged.
“All over campus actually. I get a lot of compliments, too. The guys love them.”
Helene pursed her lips so tightly that she looked like she’d swallowed an entire lemon. It must be eating her alive that I would embarrass the family like that.
Ten minutes later, her chauffeur dropped us off at a local coffee shop on campus. It wasn’t a long walk, but Helene probably couldn’t manage the distance in her heels. After we got our coffees, we selected a nearby table. She sniffed with disapproval as I bit into a buttery pastry.
“You really shouldn’t eat that. The carbs will make you fat and Daddy won’t like it.”
Holding eye contact, I took another massive bite of the pastry. Helene huffed and consulted her phone with a sigh.
“It’s time to grow up, Giselle. This childish, rebellious act is getting old. You’ve been like this since you were a teenager. You’re twenty-three now, and when you graduate, you will be in the public eye, representing the family business.”
I set the pastry aside and brushed the crumbs off my fingers.
“Have you ever thought I might not be suited to the family business?”
She huffed with amusement.
“You’re a Roche. It’s your duty. Daddy worked hard to build this empire and now it’s our job to carry on his legacy.”
I turned my head, looking out the window. Students bustled by. A few golden leaves skittered across the sidewalk. For my entire life, my family had been desperately trying to mold me into the box they created for me. Time and time again, I didn’t fit.
Why don’t you change your major?
That conversation with Professor Stonebridge wouldn’t stop replaying in my mind. No one had ever suggested I could choose a different path than the one already laid out for me.
It was all I could think about now. The possibilities of something else were overwhelming, but I could feel a fizzle of excitement at the prospect, too.
“Is that what you want?” I asked.
Helene blinked at me as if I’d grown a third eye in the middle of my forehead.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Carrying on Dad’s legacy. Running the firm. Do you actually want that?”
She sputtered with disbelief.
“Of course I do. It’s a privilege—an honor. Do you have any idea how lucky we are to have this kind of wealth at our fingertips? Daddy set us up for life . We’re going to inherit a thriving, million-dollar company. You’d have to be insane to turn that down.”
And yet, here I was entertaining the unthinkable. Leaving it all behind to pursue…what? Glancing down at my coffee, I studied the bubbles in my foam.
I didn’t have an answer. Throwing away financial security for…nothing…sounded like a fool’s errand. No wonder Helene thought I was stupid to even consider it.
“Where is this coming from anyway?” Helene asked.
She studied me with her crystal blue eyes over the rim of her cup as she sipped her coffee. I’d lived in this family long enough to recognize a trap when I saw one. Anything I said would be reported back to Dad. I had to tread carefully here.
I shrugged and fiddled with my coffee cup.
“Just…thinking out loud.”
“Well, you don’t need to think at all. Just do as your told. I warned Daddy he kept you too long as an apprentice at the firm. It slowed you down, made you lazy. He should have put you in college as soon as you graduated high school.”
I shuddered at the memory. Shadowing my father around the firm while he spoke with clients and conducted meetings that made me so bored, I struggled to stay awake. It was supposed to give me an advantage when I went to college.
A leg up on the competition, Dad always said.
But I failed that, too. Instead of going to college at eighteen like the rest of my peers, Dad held me back to focus on the firm, to sharpen my business sense. When he gave me a rundown of his latest investment deal in order to teach me a lesson, he could have been speaking a foreign language and I wouldn’t have noticed the difference.
Helene picked it up easily—parroting back everything she’d learned, entrusted with more clients until she’d fallen into step alongside my father. If Dad surrendered the company to my sister’s care tomorrow, she wouldn’t even bat an eye. She was that good.
Meanwhile, I still didn’t know what an ETF was.
On my twenty-first birthday, my father announced I wasn’t shaping up to be the proper Roche he wanted me to be. So, he sent me to the only semi-prestigious school that would take me and I ended up at East Regent University.
I hope to God your professors can make something of you.
Helene snapped her fingers in my face.
“Are you even listening to me, Giselle? I said you need to do as you’re told.”
I recoiled at her sharp tone. A hot retort burned on the tip of my tongue.
Don’t do it. Don’t say anything. Don’t fuck it up.
“I’m going to change my major.”
Damn it.
Helene arched an eyebrow.
“You what?”
“I want to study something else,” I said, surprised that my voice sounded so steady when I felt so shaky inside.
Helene squared her shoulders and pushed her chair back, rising to her feet abruptly.
“This is just like you, Giselle. Daddy does everything for us. He works so hard, and you’re never grateful for it.”
“I didn’t say that—”
“All you ever do is complain,” Helene continued, gathering steam now. “It’s selfish. Daddy expects better from you.”
“Well, not everyone can be perfect like you, Helene,” I shot back.
“You don’t even try. If you made an effort, maybe you wouldn’t embarrass yourself along with the rest of your family.”
Turning on her heel, Helene marched out of the coffee shop. I slouched in my chair, feeling pissed off and stung.
Returning to my dorm, I dropped onto the edge of my bed. At least I had the room to myself, thanks to my father throwing money around. I didn’t have a roommate, so I could seethe in silence. The thought of doing homework after the visit with my sister made me want to scream.
My gaze fell on a swath of gray folded fabric, tucked in a plastic bag that rested next to my nightstand. Professor Stonebridge’s clothes. I totally forgot to return them.
Ever since I dropped his class, I sat outside his lecture hall, listening to him teach. Even though I couldn’t face him after that kiss, I still craved the soothing sound of his voice and the steadiness of his presence.
I slid off the bed and sat on the floor, tugging the bag closer. Pulling out the professor’s shirt, I rubbed the soft fabric between my fingers. The faintest hint of his cologne lingered on the clothes, faded to a whisper of scent.
I hated that I couldn’t just shut off my feelings for him like flipping a switch. I hated that he spoke so kindly to me when I didn’t deserve it. I hated that I’d turned into a pathetic mess for him.
Moving on autopilot, I stripped off my clothes and slipped Stonebridge’s shirt over my head. I sighed and closed my eyes as the fabric slid against my naked skin like a caress.
This is a new low, even for me.
My hand wandered down my stomach, resting on my thighs. I wanted to kiss him again. I wanted to hear the timbre of his voice like melted chocolate in my ear as he praised me. I wanted him to read poetry to me and only me—a private audience of one.
I knew better than to let my hand stray beneath the waistband of my panties. It would only break my heart when I imagined the professor’s fingers stroking my clit instead of my own. The echo of his words came back to me from our last class together.
…wherein our panting limbs we’ll gently lay,
In the faint respites of our active play;
I curled upward into my wet heat. Shifting my legs wider, I pictured Professor Stonebridge’s dark gaze locked on me, studying me the way he did in class when I exasperated him. I pictured his big, warm palm on the inside of my thigh while his fingers stretched me open.
That so our slumbers may in dreams have leisure
To tell the nimble fancy our past pleasure,
And so our souls, that cannot be embraced,
Shall the embraces of our bodies taste.
My legs trembled. A coil of need tightened, threatening to pull me over the edge at any second. My breathing grew fast and shallow as I pumped and curled my fingers harder, faster. It wasn’t enough . I needed him—his voice, his heat, his weight pinning me down as he filled me with his cock.
I whined in desperation, squirming for more friction. My fingers were slick, coated in my arousal. My walls clenched and fluttered.
Finally, I gave up. The relentless throb between my thighs screamed for satisfaction, but my wrist was sore and my fingers were beginning to cramp. I dropped my head back against the mattress, opening my eyes to stare at the ceiling.
Professor Stonebridge wasn’t here, no matter how much I tried to wish him into existence.