Chapter 30 Dane
DANE
“Iwould introduce myself further, but by the silence in the room I have a feeling most of you already know more about me than I would share with you here anyway.” A few collective, awkward laughs spread throughout the room.
It doesn’t take much to pinpoint the few women in the front that are desperately trying to get my attention; by the landscape of cleavage paired with the short dresses and high heels they are wearing, I would bet my entire fortune they aren’t here to learn about business analytics at all.
“With that being said, I’ll call out a few of your names.
If I do, please stand up and tell me what your major is and where your favorite place to travel is.
” That gets a few more awkward laughs, because it’s a random question, but I find that makes it easier to open up conversation if you know something simple about someone.
Glancing down at my class list, I run my finger over the column of names. “Jodi Adamos,” I call out.
My luck, one of the girls in the front row stands up.
She makes a feeble attempt to pull her dress down, covering a little more of her legs, but exposing more cleavage.
The dress is skin tight, leaving nothing to the imagination.
She turns like she pulled a neck muscle with the restriction of her outfit and waves to the class.
“Hi, I’m Jodi.” She smiles at me biting her lip. “My major is PR Management and Marketing and my favorite place to travel is anywhere I can wear a bikini.” A few guys in the class hoot as she giggles, and you can practically hear the eye roll from some of the other girls in the class.
Scanning the student list again, my eyes catch on the name Ethan. The name comes out as a whisper before I clear my throat and announce, “Ethan Russo.”
I shift a few things on my desk then peer up to see the students looking around but no one stands.
Grabbing the corner of the paper, I lift to review the second page to see the total number of students before grabbing my pen to make a note. Chair legs squeal against the tiled floor, the sound traveling through the room before a deep voice says only one word. “Here.”
I don’t need more than that to recognize the tenor of that voice. I heard so many variations of it in words, moans, and whimpers. It plays on repeat in my head.
My gaze lifts to see him. He’s standing there, chin high, stoic, un-fucking-readable.
I feel the need to reach out and touch him. Instead, I pinch the top of my hand, digging my fingernails into the skin and yup, felt that.
You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.
I glance down at my desk then back up, placing my hands on my hips feigning indifference.
“This is an MBA college course Mr. Russo, it’s not high school roll call. Name, Major, and your favorite place to travel,” I reply with a glacial tone. His jaw visibly clenches along with his fists but I don’t care.
I need to discard his presence as easily as he discarded mine.
Even from a distance I can see the column of his throat bob as he swallows thickly. The recollection of that same movement when he took my cock down his throat for the first time hits me.
“Ethan Russo, Accounting major with a minor in Communications.” A long pause before he says, “Paris,” then slowly takes a seat back down.
Paris?
Did he just fucking say Paris? By the look on his face he shocked even himself.
Paris used to be my favorite city in the world. Now, I completely hate the idea of going there again. I don’t say that but I want to.
Instead I ask, “Why Paris, Mr. Russo?” with my most inquisitive curious voice, my eyes never leaving his.
Yes, please tell me why Paris is your favorite place to travel.
Movement at the front door catches in my periphery and I turn to see the side view of a curtain of dark chocolate hair, a button nose peeking from the side, and radiant blue eyes that I don’t need to see straight on to recognize.
She enters the room without looking in this direction and plops down in the seat directly next to Ethan, sliding a folder on his desk with a smile before it fades as she tilts her head to inspect his impassive, unamused expression.
Her head turns, following his line of sight and our gazes collide in a tsunami of emotions. She glances around, taking in our surroundings, back to Ethan then me.
Hannah sits up straighter, pressing her lips tightly together as she reaches out and grabs Ethan’s hand as if they need each other to be in the same room with me.
The fury radiating from both of them shocks me to my core. They left me. Alone in my Paris hotel with nothing but silence, regretful memories, and the itch of their marks freshly tattooed on my skin.
I peer down at my student list, goddamn there are so many names. Glancing back up, it hits me how many people are seeing this exchange. For a moment it felt like no one else was in the room and now I’m suffering from claustrophobia.
I skim the rows of names. “Hannah Parker?” I say aloud. When I glance back she nods once. “If you expect full credit for my class, don’t be late again.” Her brows pinch and a pained look crosses her face that hits me square in the chest.
I hate treating her like that but, fuck, I’m so goddamn pissed off right now.
Moving past this, I call out a few more names just to get some more conversations going and break the ice.
Then I take some time to talk about the standard curriculum created for the students, in which I show them the workbook that I was given. I read a few boring lines from one of the lessons, then open the window and toss it out.
I mean, Dean Reynolds did say I could throw it out the window. Sometimes I can be very literal.
“This course won’t be your typical college class.
I will challenge you personally and professionally.
Universities all over the world will be issuing degrees with the same cookie cutter ideals.
I want you to find the passion to do something different.
Offer the world something they’ve never seen before and be crazy enough to go for it. ”
As I glance around the room, some students are smiling and excited, others jaws are slack, probably questioning my tactics.
My eyes can’t help but shift in their direction. They’ve been attempting to have a private conversation, signing to each other, except for the fact that I’ve been reading everything they’re saying.
They both had no idea who I was until now, which is a relief even though it doesn’t fucking matter anymore. Neither one of them knew I was going to be here and this is all just as shocking to them as it was to me.
Making my way back to the front of the class, I ask, “Questions?”
Hands shoot up all over the room, excitedly. I huff out a chuckle because I know it has nothing to do with business analytics.
“Alright, I’ll give you guys a few minutes to ask me some personal questions. Then after today, we’ll be focusing on the actual subject of the class. Go ahead.” I point at a young kid in the middle of the room as I take a seat on the tall stool next to my desk.
“Is it true you created Nova in your college dorm?” he asks.
“Yes, I was addicted to perfecting it so I spent more time in my dorm than not,” I reply, leaving out the reasons why.
I avoided the world, people…everything. Code was easy. Emotionless.
In my periphery Hannah signs to Ethan. It’s distracting but I can’t not look and eavesdrop.
“Ethan, he’s a genius. How did we not know?”
I smirk, pointing at another student. “You?”
“Is it true your IQ is higher than Albert Einstein?”
The things people write in papers these days.
“He tricked us. He lied to us.”
I squint, taken aback by Ethan’s statement. What the hell does that mean?
“I don’t think his IQ was ever officially recorded but I love the comparison. Yes.” I tip my chin at the girl practically bouncing out of her chair in the front row.
“We should stay and talk to him after class.”
“No, we’re not.”
“I hear your nickname is one-date Dane. So, does that mean you are single?” She giggles.
I school an annoyed expression, as the inside of my eyeballs do an internal roll at her question. Still, I can’t help but shift my gaze over to the two people I can’t seem to stop focusing on.
Even now, I’m drawn to them and I hate how easily my stomach flips when our eyes meet.
His dark orbs are burning with the same fury I saw when he would try to hold himself back from how much he wanted me and it feeds my desire to want to push him even more.
Her gorgeous ocean blue eyes publicize every single one of her emotions and I see them flash by in an instant. Confusion, adoration, need.
I quickly turn away, my gaze back on the girl desperately waiting for an answer and as I skim the room I can see a few others are just as curious. I don’t want my relationship status to distract everyone and hell, maybe if I lie it’ll get a few of the non-serious ones to drop.
“I’m…taken.” I fake a kind smile to the room, regretting it immediately.
Ethan flinches.
“What?” Hannah mouths as she signs to no one specifically, looking very perplexed.
“Oh,” Tight Dress Girl says with disappointment, sitting back down.
I’m taken?
Who even says that?
Although, it’s not a complete lie. I am emotionally predisposed by two people who ran away from me after finally giving into everything we ever wanted in a hot hotel room in Paris.
Soo, yeah. I suppose I am taken.
I can practically feel the rage radiating from the left corner of the room where Ethan is sitting without even looking that way. I muster the courage to glance that direction anyway and, if looks could kill, I would most definitely be dead.
Pointing to another girl in the opposite corner of the room, far away from death eyes, I say, “Yes?”
“Is it true, you’re a millionaire?” she asks with the same curiosity as the girl in the front row.
“Millionaire?” Hannah signs.
Ethan shakes his head, tossing his hands up in a defeated, annoyed motion.
Billionaire sweetheart.