Page 26 of Wicked Spite
Got the info you wanted. She’s all set.
“Dean Jenkins!” I burst into the office, not bothering to knock. The door slams against the wall, making an audible thud that reverberates through the room.
“Mr. Blackwood,” the Dean looks up from his paperwork, eyebrows knitting together. “To what do I owe the?—”
“Cut the crap, Jenkins,” I snap, as I stride toward his desk. “I need someone enrolled. Just forwarded you her info.”
“Forwarded me—” He fumbles with his computer, his eyes darting back to me, confusion and irritation battling for dominance on his face. “A student from St. James? You can’t just?—”
“Yeah, I can. And I just did.” I lean in, placing both hands on his desk, invading his personal space. My eyes lock on his, daring him to challenge me. “As of right the fuck now, she’ll be a student of St. Charles.”
“Mr. Blackwood,” he starts, trying to regain some semblance of authority. “This isn’t how we handle transfers. There are procedures?—”
“Procedures?” I laugh, a dark, menacing sound. “Let’s talk about procedures, Jenkins. Like the procedure for keeping your job. Or the procedure for what happens when a certain video leaks. You know, the one where you’re not exactly…behaving in a very Dean-like manner?”
His face pales, a flicker of fear in his eyes. “You wouldn’t dare?—”
“Wouldn’t I?” I growl, leaning closer. “Do it, or you’ll find out exactly what I’m capable of.”
His hand shakes as he reaches for his mouse, his eyes never leaving mine. He knows he’s cornered. He knows I hold all the cards.
“Fine,” he mutters, defeated. “I’ll make the arrangements.”
“Good. Make sure it’s done by the end of the day and she’s in all of my classes for now.” I straighten up, cracking my neck with a satisfiedgrin.
I watch as he types slow as fuck on his keyboard and all I can do is roll my eyes. Fucking crypt keeping ass millennial.
“Jenkins, there’s one more thing we need to cover,” I say, my voice barely hiding the excitement bubbling beneath. This is going to be good.
“Yes, Mr. Blackwood?” Jenkins asks.
“She needs to be enrolled as Mrs. Reagan Blackwood,” I declare, savoring every word. The look on his face is priceless—full of surprise, fear, and disbelief.
“Mrs...?” He looks up, wide-eyed. “But she’s just a student.”
“Not just any student,” I correct, leaning forward, my hazel eyes boring into his. “She’s going to be my wife.”
“Your wife?!” His voice cracks, and for a moment, I think he’s going to choke on his own words. “Is that even legal?”
“Don’t worry about the legality, Jenkins,” I purr, my lips curling into a smirk. “Just make it happen.”
“Mrs. Reagan Blackwood,” I say, rolling the words around my mouth like a fine wine. “Has a nice fucking ring to it, don’t you think?”
The Dean’s face goes pale, like someone just yanked the rug out from under him. His eyes dart back and forth from the screen to me, desperate, maybe even pleading.
“Penn, this is—” He starts, but his voice cracks, making him sound more pathetic than authoritative.
“Shut up and finish it,” I snap, every syllable as sharp as broken glass. “You don’t get a vote here.”
“Done,” he mutters, barely louder than a breath. The papers slide toward me like they’re radioactive or something.
“Good boy,” I say. A triumphant smile splits my face. “See? That wasn’t so hard now, was it?”
“Are we done here, Mr. Blackwood? There are other students I need to see.” I hum at him and make him squirm for another ten minutes under my gaze.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me,” I say, turning on my heel, “I have a Mrs. Blackwood to inform about her new status.”
Chapter 10
