Chapter 38 #2
“I’ve always admired your work ethic,” he continued, voice dropping into something softer — too soft for a professor to talk to his student.
“The way you carry yourself. You’re not like the other students.
” His eyes drifted, lingering just a beat too long on my shoulder, my neck, dipping lower to my chest. “You have . . . presence.”
My stomach turned.
I reached behind me, my hand settling on my small mallet.
I turned slightly, keeping him in my line of sight, but moved around my workbench, giving the illusion I was adjusting my work.
But really, I was putting something — anything — between us.
“Thank you, I guess.” His brow furrowed, and I picked up my phone, glancing at it.
“I didn’t realize that was the time, I need to get going. ”
He stepped around the workbench and came closer. Not touching. Just close enough that I felt the heat of him, smelled the coffee on his breath.
“Savannah,” he murmured, “you don’t have to pretend. I know you’re very confused right now. It can be overwhelming to be the center of attention. It won’t last, though. You know that. You know you can come to me if you ever need . . . support. Your father trusts me to look after you.”
I almost forgot he was too close to me. “My father trusts you?” I asked him, my voice sharp. “What does that mean?”
Professor Yates sighed as he looked away. “Do you really think the dean of the university doesn’t know about the university’s estate?”
I stiffened. “Estate? I don’t understand.”
“A man like your father, who analyzes every penny of the school’s finances, who chases every cent, do you really think he doesn’t know which buildings on this campus are redundant and costing the school money in upkeep and utilities?”
I took a step back. “He knows I use the shed?”
Professor Yates gave me that same patronizing smile. “It’s okay, I tell him what he wants to hear. I look after you, Savannah.”
My temper flared, hot and furious, but I didn’t want to give him any ammunition, so I forced myself to keep my voice steady. “I don’t need looking after.”
His smile sharpened. “Everyone does at your age.” His eyes ran over me in a way that was so not appropriate for a member of the academic staff to look at a student. “Let me help you. Like I’ve been helping you.”
Not happening. I gripped the mallet harder, knuckles turning white. “I think you should leave now.”
He blinked, innocent surprise plastered on like a mask. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”
“But you did.” My voice didn’t shake, thank God. “And you’ve been lying to me,” I added with more bitterness than I wanted. “He knows about it all, doesn’t he? Because you’ve been telling him.”
Professor Yates sucked his teeth. “I got you this,” he told me coolly, gesturing to the shed around us. “I found the space, I got it emptied, I got you the key. I did it all for you.”
“With my father’s permission, though,” I spat. “Right?”
“He is the dean of the university,” he replied, his words sharper than they had been.
“I report to my boss when my boss asks me. He is my boss. Did you forget that?” His hand raked through his hair.
“For fuck’s sake, Savannah, don’t be so na?ve.
You just told me you didn’t need looking after. Yet you’re reacting like a child!”
My mouth dropped. This was my mentor. Someone I looked up to. Someone I trusted. Had it all been a lie? “I need to go.”
He made a sound of disgust. “To the quarterback?”
“Yes. To my boyfriend.”
Professor Yates scoffed. “Boy friend. You don’t need a boy, Savannah—”
“She needs me more than she’ll ever need you.”
We both turned as Dante walked into the shed. He looked pissed, and I felt my body sag in relief as he stalked toward me.
“Dante!” Professor Yates shoved his hands into his pockets. “It’s good to see—”
“Shut the fuck up,” Dante told him, making his way to me. With one glance, he took everything in, his frown deepening when he saw me. He was at my side, his arm around my waist, pulling me into him. “I got you, Sav,” he murmured. He turned to Yates. “Why the fuck are you here?”
Professor Yates squared his shoulders, all professional again. “I came with the unfortunate news that Dean Cole has tasked me with the role of informing Savannah that the shed will no longer be available for her use.”
“No, you didn’t . . .” I leaned into Dante and his immediate strength, taking the comfort he offered. “You didn’t say that at all. It’s really one of the only things you haven’t said today.”
Yates sighed. “If you interpreted my words incorrectly, well . . . that’s on you.” He started walking to the door. “You have a few days to clear it all out.”
The door shut behind him, and Dante was in front of me, his hands cupping my cheeks, eyes full of concern. “Sav? Are you okay?”
Tears came swiftly and unbidden; God, I really didn’t want to cry. “Yeah, I . . . I don’t know.”
“Sav, sweetheart, you need to let go of the mallet,” he said softly, his fingers smoothing over mine, which were still gripped tightly around the handle. “Then tell me why you’re clinging to a mallet. What did he say to you? Did he hurt you? Tell me if he hurt you.”
“He’s . . .” I blew out a breath. “It was horrible.” I saw Dante’s reaction as he glared toward the door, already moving away from me. “He didn’t touch me,” I said quickly, grabbing his sweatshirt, bringing his attention back to me. “It’s what he said, how he said it . . .”
But the worst part wasn’t the words. It was that feeling — cold betrayal — from someone I thought was an ally.
“My dad’s always known about the shed. I was fooling no one,” I told him. “I think . . .” I cleared my throat. “I know Yates has been reporting to him. Spying.” I laughed bitterly. “Daddy dearest loves his spy network.”
“Sav.”
I moved away from him, angrily brushing away the tears.
“God, I’m so stupid, Dante.” I shook my head as I looked around.
“He knows everything. He controls everything. And Yates—” I drew in a shaky breath — “was so creepy. Ugh. You told me, you stood right there.” I pointed wildly to the middle of the room.
“You told me he was a creep, and I said you were wrong. Well, guess what? You weren’t wrong! Why am I so stupid?”
“Hey . . .” He held his hands up as he approached me. “I’m really sorry I was right.”
I snorted.
“Sav, sweetheart, listen to me,” he said, reaching out and tugging on my hand.
“I am really sorry that I was right. I wish, in this case, I was wrong. You have every right to be furious, and hurt, and betrayed, and all the other really relevant things you’re feeling, but I need you to tell me everything he said to you. ”
I felt so drained. “I just want to forget,” I mumbled. I looked at my sculpture. “I don’t even know where I’m going to move it to.”
“Sav—”
“Ugh, and this is so not what you need!”
“Huh?”
“You have so much more to deal with!” I cried out. “Me losing an art shed? It’s nothing. It’s nothing, even similar to what—”
My phone rang. I picked it up, dreading that it was Yates or my dad. It was worse. It was my mom.
“Ugh, she keeps calling me,” I muttered, tossing it down. My hands were in my hair. “Fuck. I can’t—”
His kiss silenced me. Dante drew back when he felt me relax a little. “Breathe, Sav.” He kissed me again, gently. “Listen to me, what affects you affects me. What hurts you, hurts me. Now tell me what he said. Exactly what he said.”
“You’re going to punch him, aren’t you?” I asked suspiciously.
“I’m going to fucking kill him.”
“That won’t help.”
“It will help me, trust me.”
He was so ridiculous. I smiled even though it felt wrong, but Dante beamed at me.
“Where’s my savage?” Dante teased me, pulling me close. Tilting my head back and kissing me. “You are not stupid.” He kissed me again, lightly. “You are amazing. We’ll find a new shed. They’re not going to beat you. You won’t let them, I know you won’t. You still with me, Sav?”
I nodded slowly, seeing his absolute faith in me. His belief. It was what I needed. He was what I needed.
Was I still with him?
I was.