Chapter 12
Yasmine was a naive, clueless idiot.
That was the only conclusion she could come to as she sat next to Bella during the Department of Biological Sciences’ quarterly faculty meeting.
And even if there had been, Yasmine would have excused it. Humans release a lot of post-coitus hormones that make them do strange things.
But Bella had been impressively professional about it all.
Well, until that moment, when she casually leaned her head on Yasmine’s shoulder while Dean Maguire droned on about grants.
Yasmine immediately tensed. She didn’t possess that useful vampiric power that gave you eyes in the back of your head, but she knew the professors in the row behind them had to be staring.
Due to Yasmine’s uniquely crimson hair, and Bella’s freakish tallness and general magnetism, there was no question that they were easy to recognize.
“Bella?” Yasmine whispered harshly. “What are you doing?”
The heavy lump of blonde hair was unmoved by Yasmine’s panicked tone.
“Tired,” Bella said. “Didn’t sleep much last night.”
Yasmine’s brow creased in confusion. Bella had disappeared into her room at eleven PM. and only came back out at eleven A.M, when she groggily made her way down the stairs in a bathrobe and slippers, hair completely mussed.
Yasmine had been on her way out the door then to her mid-day lecture, and thank God for that, because the sight of Bella in that loose robe was very overwhelming.
“I’m sorry you didn’t sleep well, but I’m going to need you to stop using me as a headrest regardless. We’re in a public meeting.”
And even though it was a pretty innocent gesture, it was still making Yasmine’s chest tighten, having her this close. She could smell Bella’s strawberry-scented conditioner.
With an annoyed grunt, Bella slowly lifted her head.
“You’re not that comfortable anyway,” she said, rubbing the side of her forehead for effect. “Way too bony. It’s like you're made of porcupine needles.”
Yasmine stifled a smile, looking away towards the lectern. Maguire had clicked onto a new slide, one that had caused the murmur in the room to quiet completely. Strangely enough, the Dean’s tired eyes seemed to be focused on her, of all people.
Quickly reading text off the slide, Yasmine’s throat clenched.
NIH Notice of Administrative Review – R01 Allocation
Her fingers gripped the plastic chair beneath her.
No.
They wouldn’t.
The dean cleared his throat. “The university has been notified, concerning Professor Sokolov’s research, that there might have been some irregularities in the fund awarding process.
Typically, concerns like this are addressed prior to notice of award.
But it seems something has come up retroactively. ”
Yasmine nearly broke the base of her chair from gripping it so tightly. Her gaze immediately shot like an arrow towards Ford Waldorf. He was sitting in the front row, his arm hanging over his chair as he turned to stare directly at her, grinning.
That little bitch, she concluded.
She knew he’d been trying to get the NIH’s attention for months, but her stint with Bella must have sent him over the edge.
Who knows how many emails he sent to his contacts there after their little discussion in her office.
She probably should have done a better job not pissing him off, but then again, the man was insufferable.
She should have been awarded for her restraint that she hadn’t just stabbed him to death with a ballpoint pen.
Maguire adjusted his glasses, and clicked to the next slide.
“The university has also been contacted by the Office of Research Integrity. Until this matter is resolved, the awarded funds are temporarily frozen.”
That got Yasmine out of her seat.
“Frozen?” she barked. The entire room no longer tried to hide their wolfish leering: the other professors were practically licking their lips with schadenfreude.
“To clarify,” Maguire began, lifting a hand.
Yasmine didn’t let him finish.
“With respect, Dean,” she said, in a tone that exuded no respect at all.
“My lab runs continuous marine systems. We have live sea urchin specimens both here and in Alaska. If vendor payments are halted, or if staff contracts are paused, those animals will die, and my research will be completely disrupted.”
Maguire grimaced.
“...And we can discuss all of that in private, after this meeting, Professor,” he continued.
“This was just a general notice so that the rest of the staff can be ready to pick up some of your lectures if you need to focus on dealing with this investigation. Everyone will understand if you feel the need to take a step back during this time.”
A step back. Yasmine was three seconds away from sending the entire department into a living nightmare. The gall.
A hand on Yasmine’s leg drew her out of her boiling anger.
She turned, finding Bella looking back up at her. Unlike everyone else in the room, Bella didn’t seem moved by this revelation at all. She had her legs casually crossed, her head propped up with her hand, tapping at her cheek, as if she might fall asleep without the stimulation.
“Relax,” Bella mouthed, as if Yasmine was having some kind of unprovoked tantrum. Then she leaned closer and whispered, “We both know you don’t need that money. Are a few million dollars really something to get worked up about?”
Yasmine blinked. It felt like shutters had fallen over the room, eclipsing everyone except the two of them.
Despite the fact that Bella was a completely irrelevant entity in this—arguably the least powerful person in the room if ranking by degree, position, money, experience—she seemed to have total control over the situation. Not a worry in the world.
It was so irritating.
But also, she was right.
Yasmine did have enough money to fund her own research. It wouldn’t be simple—she’d have to very quickly invent a handful of new companies, divert funds carefully into the correct nonprofits, divest a large amount of stocks, all in a relatively short amount of time—but it would be doable.
Bella released her hand from Yasmine’s leg, and made a noncommittal gesture to the stage that was equivalent to: Go handle this so we can get lunch.
Apathy had never looked sexier on anyone. Yasmine’s throat was dry when she tried to swallow, but she managed it, turning back towards the stage.
“Thank you so much, Dean Maguire, for informing me,” she said, smiling tightly at the pack of wolves disguised as scientists.
For her last sentence, though, she fixated completely on Waldorf.
“I think I will take a break from teaching for a few months, then, while I deal with this. It’s good to know I’ll be leaving my students in really qualified hands, hm? ”
The room absorbed her change of heart with a beat of silent bafflement.
Waldorf especially, his jaw was clicking open and closed like a nutcracker as he looked back and forth between Yasmine and Maguire, expecting some divine punishment to befall her.
But all the Dean did was sag further into his oversized coat.
“Oh. Well then. Thank you for your understanding, Professor Sokolov,” Maguire said with a distraught blink. After a beat, he grabbed his clicker and continued to the next slide. “Now, a few administrative changes when it comes to office space…”
Yasmine slunk back into her seat, the attention off her at last. She was ready to close her eyes and tune out the rest of this circus performance when Bella’s hand slunk its way across her thigh, then patted it twice.
“Good girl,” she said, teasingly. “Coffee on me today. To celebrate your retirement.”
Yasmine’s cheeks burned. She wasn’t ready to face what those two words just did to her, so she just looked up at the fluorescent lights until her eyes hurt, and nodded.
***
“You said we were getting—” Yasmine’s head slammed into the file cabinet, and she groaned. “—Damn it. Coffee. This is not coffee.”
Instead of apologizing, Bella just giggled, reached under Yasmine’s legs, and hoisted her onto the janitor’s table. Dust plumed around them as Bella leaned forward and captured her lips again. All Yasmine could do was let out a tiny sound in protest.
“It was just too much watching you get worked up in there,” Bella whined once they separated, both of them gasping for air. “Not to mention these fuck me jeans.”
“They’re called Levi’s.”
“Don’t say some man’s name when we’re kissing, please.”
The way Bella said when we’re kissing, so whiny and petulant and almost sweet, made Yasmine’s entire being turn to mush. It was an entirely different feeling from the one she had low in her stomach, and it was starting to get confusing.
No, everything had been confusing to begin with. Now it was only worsening.
Bella reached for the zipper of Yasmine’s pants again, but Yasmine caught her hand, stopping her. “How do you know how much money I have?” she asked.
Bella giggled. She didn’t try to escape Yasmine’s grappling hands, but instead leaned in again, shifting past Yasmine’s lips to press two kisses to her cheek. They were soft and brief and pointless, and they made Yasmine’s chest shudder.
She would really have to talk to Bella about boundaries soon. Very soon. Right now would be ideal, but she really needed to prioritize her problems.
“Bella,” she pressed, yanking her back by the hair—gentler now than last night, but not by much. “Tell me how you know.”
Bella rolled her eyes, and massaged the back of her scalp.
“Well, for one,” Bella began, and Yasmine realized just how effective a technique hooking up with Bella was to getting her to admit things.
Suddenly she felt way better about her decisions.
“You live in a mansion in front of Central Park. And before you yell at me, yes, I know that doesn’t make you a billionaire by default.
I know about that part because my main hobby outside of work is reading all the fake news articles you have your assistant write about your various shell corporations. Some of them are so funny.”
Yasmine pulled back, stunned.