Chapter 6 #2
If I tell him I teach, he’ll know this is a second job, and that will open the door for more questions. But if I don’t tell him, I’ll feel like a complete failure.
“I teach English literature at the Ashworth Academy in Connecticut.”
The words sound impressive enough that, for a second, I almost fool myself. Like I’m one of those women who posts glossy classroom photos online with cute mugs and inspirational quotes. Like I actually made it.
In reality, I’m barely clinging to that job by my fingernails, grading essays in stolen minutes between shifts and praying no one looks closely enough to see how close I am to falling apart.
I guess if I run, I won’t have to worry about being judged, but running means turning my back on my dream.
The tension in his expression loosens, like he’s relieved I made something out of myself. “That’s good to hear.”
“I’m only working here to make some extra money,” I throw in before he can ask. “There’s something big I have to pay for. So, I’m saving.” I’m impressed I thought up that half-truth answer.
“I see. I hope that means once you get whatever it is you’re saving for, you can go back to just teaching.”
I nod, although I know that may be a long, long time to come—again, depending on what happens on Monday. “This is temporary.”
“I guess I won’t see you around, then.”
My stomach dips, which is ridiculous. I shouldn’t have any sort of reaction to him.
“You say that like it would be a tragedy,” I manage, aiming for light and landing somewhere closer to brittle.
“Still mouthy, I see.”
He lifts his cup like he’s making a toast then takes another sip, watching me over the rim.
“I’m just pointing out the obvious.” My fingers tighten around my cup.
“I guess I deserve that.”
He does, so I don’t comment. At the same time, I know I shouldn’t feel bitter. It’s not like he and I were friends. All my childhood memories may be filled with him hanging out with Jack, but all I was is his best friend’s little sister.
“How’ve you been?” The question is so simple it throws me.
“I’m fine.” The lie burns through me like acid. I’m not even sure I manage to speak with a straight face. If I did, the skeptical look on his face tells me he doesn’t believe me. “What about you? How’ve you been?”
He stares at me for a long moment before answering. “I’m fine, too.”
“Family okay?” The latest thing I know about the Vales is that his eldest brother got married. But that was over a year ago. It was all over the news. I lost track of the Vales over time because I was so busy, and recently, the loan consumed my every waking thought.
“My family are good. Yours?” The question can only be in reference to Jack. He’s the only real family I have left.
“Yeah. All good.” I give him a general answer, knowing Jack would hate if I gave any more details. It’s bad enough I’m sitting here, sipping coffee with his enemy.
“Did you ever go to Europe?”
I can’t help but smile. He remembered that, too. “Not yet. It’s still on my to-do list.”
“You should definitely go.”
“I nearly went during college. I missed out on a placement at Oxford in England.”
“What happened?” He leans forward, looking curious.
“I fell down the stairs in my dorm and broke my leg.” I lift a shoulder into a shrug.
The line of his mouth flattens, and that sharpness in his focus softens at the edges like someone just dimmed the lights behind his eyes. “Sorry to hear that.”
“I felt so foolish. I missed an opportunity of a lifetime. I would have gone to Shakespeare’s home, walked the Bronte moors, lurked around Austen country…
maybe even stalked all of Byron’s old haunts just for the poetry of it.
” For a moment, I slip into my old self.
God, I miss that girl so damn much, it hurts I can’t be that version of myself anymore.
“I’m sure you can still do that. Maybe once you’ve got that big thing you’re saving for out of the way.”
“Yeah, that would be nice.” More like a dream.
He drains the last of his coffee and studies me for a heartbeat. “I have to run, but… I certainly hope this thing you’re saving for isn’t some kind of trouble.”
My lungs squeeze and the air thins, trapped somewhere between my throat and chest, refusing to move. “No. Why would you say that?” God, am I that transparent?
“Because you look cornered, little lamb. Overworked and… trapped. And like you haven’t seen sleep in days.”
Typical Dorian. Always seeing too much. But then again, I guess I’ve gotten to the stage where I can’t cover up my distress. There’s only so much makeup and forced smiles can hide.
Still, the fact that he noticed sends a spiral of irritation coursing through me.
“I’m fine.” The words snap out harder than I intend.
“The problem with that answer is, you don’t look fine.”
“What’s it to you? You expect me to actually believe you care?” I shouldn’t have said that. It’s a dig at the past. But I can’t take it back. And honestly, I don’t want to.
To my surprise, he smiles. It’s an eerie, menacing smile that throws me off balance, even though it suits him far too well.
He pushes to his feet and surprises me further by leaning down until he’s a breath away from my lips. He plants a finger on my chin, and I go still.
Our eyes lock, and the potent stare he gives me sends a flush of heat straight to my core.
“Care is a strong word, little lamb. Let’s just say I’m… interested, and you’re not as easy to ignore as you should be.”
My breath catches, and I struggle to tear my eyes away from his piercing blue gaze.
“In case things don’t work out, you know where to find me.” He points through the window at the surrounding skyscrapers. Vale Global is amongst them. “Till then, do yourself a favor and get some sleep.”
For a second, I just stare at him. The words don’t land all at once. When they finally hit, it feels like the floor shifts beneath my feet.
Did he just throw me a lifeline?
My pulse stutters as I try not to look as desperate as I feel.
I want to ask what he really means, what “find me” looks like. How much it would cost me.
But my pride knots my tongue.
Men like Dorian Vale don’t hand out charity. If I take his help, there will be a price.
There is always a price.
He pushes straight, smoothing out his jacket, then he grabs his laptop and gives me one last assessing stare, like he’s marking the moment. Then he turns and walks away, his footsteps quiet, leaving the faintest trace of his cologne and a storm in his wake.
I sit there frozen, my hands wrapped around the warm coffee cup like it’s the only solid thing left in my life.
I’m a breath away from Monday.
And now, one impossible option has just presented itself, glittering on the horizon, wearing a tailored suit and a wolf’s smile.