Chapter 22
Ivy was pleased with how the class had gone, unorthodox as her lesson had been. Tristan’s suggestion had panned out—the students seemed to finally understand Bayesian statistics.
Ivy was less pleased when she stepped into the hallway after everyone had left and saw Zeke waiting for her.
Here it comes, she thought. The apology.
Ivy was working out what to say—slowly, on account of her head still being a little fuzzy—when the angry little shit came forward.
“What did you do?”
Okay, so no apology forthcoming.
“Mr. Godfrey—”
Zeke stepped toward her.
“You said I was cheating? I didn’t cheat. Who the hell would I cheat off, anyway?”
“Mr. Godfrey, I don’t know what—”
“It was Becky, wasn’t it? That bitch was pissed I wouldn’t go out with her, so she lied and said I cheated.”
Last night, Zeke had been drunk. Sober today. But the look in his eyes was the same.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yeah, you do. I don’t think you understand who I am. My father donates millions to this university. Millions.”
Ivy glanced up and down the hallway. All the other classes in Fine Hall had let out—they were alone. And Zeke was standing within two feet of her.
There was nowhere for Ivy to go.
“You think your daddy was pretty important, don’t you? You think because you are his daughter, the daughter of this big math wizard, that you’re safe? Because of math?”
Ivy had been scared at the bar; now she was terrified.
“Here’s what you’re going to do,” Zeke continued. “You’re going to go back to that weasel Dr. Moorehead and you’re going to tell him that you made a mistake. You’re going to tell him—”
The door opened behind Ivy and she jumped.
“Dr. Reeves?” It was Tristan. She moved aside, not realizing that she’d backed up nearly to the classroom door. “Everything okay here?”
Zeke was bigger than Tristan. Thicker through the chest and arms—barely, but still. But when their eyes met, it was Zeke who backed down first.
“Remember what I said,” Zeke hissed and scurried off.
“What the hell was that all about?” Tristan asked.
Ivy was too rattled to answer.
“The cheating, right? Did you go to Dr. Moorehead?”
Still, Ivy remained silent. She was trembling. Hated the fact that she’d let the entitled brat get to her but couldn’t help it. That look.
Now, a full blown shudder coursed through her.
“Hey, you gonna be okay?”
Ivy finally snapped to.
“Yeah, thanks. Thanks for that.”
“Want me to walk you to your office?”
Ivy shook her head.
“No. I’ll be fine.”
And I’m not going to my office. I’m going back to see Dr. Moorehead.
Dr. Moorehead wasn’t happy to see her. He’d just hung up the phone, and as unlikely as it might be, Ivy couldn’t shake the feeling that the conversation that had left the department head ornery had been about her, courtesy of Zeke’s father.
“What can I do for you, Dr. Reeves?”
He ran a hand over his bald head. It made a sound like sandpaper on rubber.
“We have to do something about Zeke Godfrey.”
Dr. Moorehead raised his chin.
“I spoke to him yesterday about the allegations and just now I got a call from his father. He wasn’t pleased.
” So it was about her. Ivy tried to cut in, but Dr. Moorehead continued.
“The simple fact is that there’s not enough evidence to do anything about it, unfortunately. Now, if there’s nothing else—”
“He cornered me outside my class.” Ivy tried her best to keep her voice even but a small tremor crept in.
Dr. Moorehead’s eyes went dark.
“What do you mean, ‘cornered you’?”
“He came up to me, accused me of speaking to you about him cheating.”
“Did he threaten you?”
Ivy thought back. The interaction had certainly felt threatening. But she didn’t think that Zeke had come out and directly threatened her. Ordered her around, intimidated her, but never actually threatened.
“Not exactly. But he was aggressive. Told me to come here and rescind the accusation.”
Dr. Moorehead seemed to relax a little.
“He’s angry and frustrated. If he didn’t touch you or threaten you, there’s not much I can do. As for rescinding the cheating—”
“I don’t want to do that. Zeke cheated—I know it.”
“And you of all people should also know that we work on facts here in this department,” Dr. Moorehead said, quickly transitioning from concerned to annoyed. “Not intuition. There’s not enough evidence against Mr. Godfrey to do anything about it. Not for this one test.”
It wasn’t one test, it was two, but Ivy didn’t think this was the time to point this ‘fact’ out.
“If he says anything threatening or touches you, you let me know. I’ll deal with it.”
There was also the incident at the bar, and Ivy was almost certain that Zeke had threatened her then. But she’d been drunk. The only witnesses were Zeke’s buddies, who would claim ignorance, and Abby and Blake. Also drunk.
Their testimonies wouldn’t hold much weight with Dr. Moorehead. Not nearly as much weight as a cushy seven-figure donation, which Zeke’s father had likely offered to make all this go away and to keep his son enrolled at Princeton.
“Look, Ivy, if you’re really scared of this kid, I can talk to security. Get them to spend more time on your floor.”
“It’s fine.”
“You sure?”
“It’s fine,” Ivy repeated harshly.
It wasn’t fine.
Zeke Godfrey was a young, angry, entitled asshole.
And almost certainly dangerous.