Page 5 of Teacher's Pet
“So what if I did?” Ryan whispered darkly, pressing a mocking kiss to the aching head. His eyes glittered dangerously, and his lips twisted into a sinful smirk. “You’re not jealous, are you, Professor?”
Three Months Earlier
Chapter 1
RYAN
I slouched into my seat.
I wished someone would reach into my brain and scramble it, make me forget the last 24 hours.
“I can assure you he won’t be a disturbance,” my father’s voice boomed in the office. He gave me a look, and I sat up straighter. “He just needs to finish his two semesters,” my father finished stiffly, eyes already drifting back to his phone as he fired off another text to his secretary.
I refrained from rolling my eyes at his stupid antics.
I could tell he was itching to get me off his hands and get his ass back in his private jet. To return to his little vacation with his barely legal secretary.
Sorry, I ruined it, Daddy.
Piece of Shit.
Men always cheat when given the opportunity. Always.
They lie, cheat, and drain people of every ounce of joy, and when they’ve wrung you dry, they move on to their next prey.
I should tell him off, curse him out publicly to humiliate him, even if it’s only in front of the dean.
The thought made me let out a low huff, but his mossy green eyes snapped to me, narrowing slightly.
I bit back a retort and forced my face into a neutral position. I know what happens when I speak out, and I won’t make that mistake again.
“It’s a late notice…” the dean began, “and his academic scores are not up to standard.”
“He’ll improve,” my father cuts in, leaning back. His tone sharpened. “Isn’t that right, Ryan?” I nodded automatically, like one of those bobbleheads.
“Yes, of course.” I straightened in the luxurious armchair, layering my voice with fake warmth and flashing my award-winning smile.
He gave me a pointed look, he knew it was a performance, but he wouldn’t call me out here. He had more sense than that, especially while trying to get me enrolled.
The dean’s chocolate-brown eyes flicked toward me. I ignored the subtle appraisal of my body, tightening my grip on the armrest.
He combed his stubby fingers through his greying hair and gave me a vacant stare. The office screamed ego: oversized, a chandelier above the desk, windows overlooking campus.
Narcissist.
“I understand that,I do—but Mr. Larson, this is a prestigious university,” the dean leans in, his voice audibly lower, “and given his incident with those men—”
“You mean those scum of the earth football players who took advantage ofmyson?” my father cut in sharply, his voice risingan octave. ‘Tell me, Gordan, if that was your daughter, would you want her to be treated like a passive participant?”
He looked furious, but his eyes told the truth: he was more disgusted than anything, not by what he implied but byme.
My skin prickled. A chill crawled down my spine, and I cracked my knuckles to distract myself.
I remember that day like it was yesterday, because it was. It was my mistake for getting drunk and horny, and I wanted it, I did. I mean—
I shake my head.
I shouldn’t have even attempted that shit in the dorm's bathroom. But twisting my experience into something murky for social sympathy, like he’d ever actually cared,what a joke.
