Page 20 of The Invite
Yeah. That’s it.
Once I go home and regroup, I will burn the sketch into flames.
A knock sounds on the door and I go ramrod still. When it opens, I don’t turn around but hear multiple footsteps enter.
The tension and the gloominess in the air thickens. The walls of the office are closing in on me. That’s how powerful and extreme his aura, is and he hasn’t even said a word. He probably isn’t even scared, which is dreadful.
Does he ever get afraid?
“Augustus… Maverick,” greets Mr. Crane. “Do you both know why you’re here?”
“I can wager a guess,” says Maverick amusedly, too cocky. “But I don’t think you’re in the mood for a fun game, sir.”
They come and stand to my right.
I cross my legs and sit up straight, refusing to look at them. Augustus’s intense gaze burns into my profile.
“Cut the sarcasm, Mr. Sinclair,” angrily warns Mr. Crane. “It’s your future we’re about to discuss here.”
I realize they’re young and cocky but I don’t feel guilty. I promised myself a long time ago that I’d never let anybody bullyme. The only solution is to stand up for yourself, even at the risk of losing and battling a thousand wounds.
“Why are we here?” asks Augustus calmly.
A full-body shudder jolts me from head to toe at his detached voice.
“Miss Davenport came to me with a very serious complaint,” the principal says, pointing at me but looking at them. “Is it true you sexually assaulted her last night? We have proof. So, confess the truth.”
“What proof?” pipes in Maverick. His humor is gone, for a change.
“Answer me first,” demands Mr. Crane.
“We are not answering anything without a lawyer present,” Augustus states. “It’s a very serious allegation Miss Nessa is making.”
“You confess here and we can all come to a resolution without involving the police, Mr. Grayson.”
“What might that be?” he counters.
“A suspension and an apology, for starters.”
“Is that what Miss Nessa wants?”
The hint of a taunt in his cold tone snaps my head toward him, and I angrily retort, “What I want is for both of you to get expelled. Call a lawyer or the police, but with the proof that I have they’ll take my side.”
“Where’s the proof?”
“I have your confession on record, Mr. Grayson.” It’s my turn to be smug.
“Did I consent to the said recording?”
My confidence falters and I’m unable to answer because, of course, I did not have his consent. Hell, I didn’t even know we were being recorded.
His chest expands wider at the hesitation on my ashen face, and he says, “Now, I may not be a lawyer, but even I know it’s inadmissible in court.”
My heart thuds, splintering into pieces.
I, of all people, shouldn’t have missed that minute detail. I was too busy celebrating my little victory. However, that doesn’t mean he’s going to leave this room scot-free.
“Whether or not it comes to that, you still cornered and threatened me.”
