Page 82 of Troy Story
He kissed her passionately, tangling his hands through her hair and tasting ginger on her tongue. More than ever, he was glad he’d gone after her. A love like this was worth fighting for.
But he had to keep them both on task. With great reluctance, he pulled away. “We need to head back to the field house and deal with Hughes. It’s gonna get ugly.”
“I know. And I’m worried the Turks will exile all of us from Troy. But when I Skyped with my dad at the bus station, he told me to go back and fight.”
“That’s the Dusty I know and love.” Whatever happened, he could deal with it now that she was at his side. “I couldn’t do this without you.”
She flashed him a cheeky grin. “Damn right. Now, let’s go kick some ass.”
CHAPTERTHIRTY-ONE
During the drive, Dusty wavered between giddy happiness at being back with Stuart and sick dread at the thought of him losing his job. Or, worse yet, of the Turkish Ministry of Culture ordering all of them to leave Troy in disgrace. But she was glad she hadn’t let Dr. Hughes drive her away. If Stuart wanted her at his side, then that was where she’d stay, regardless of the consequences.
When they pulled onto the gravel driveway, Stuart killed the engine and took a deep breath. “No matter what happens to me, I love you. Okay? I can handle it.”
She gave his hand a quick squeeze. “I love you, too.”
Upon entering the field house, they stopped short. The entire team, including Mort and Kerim, had gathered in the common room. A few sat on the couch while the others sprawled on the floor. They were still grubby from the day’s work at the site, as though they hadn’t wanted to waste time showering. Instead, they’d banded together to watch over Dr. Hughes, who occupied an armchair with a peevish expression on his face.
Emilia leaped up to greet them. “Stuart! You found her!”
“Thank God,” Clarissa said. “We were so worried.”
“Not me,” Mort added. “I knew you wouldn’t fail. That’s the power of love.”
TJ stood and placed his hands on the back of Dr. Hughes’ chair. “Our esteemed professor tried to leave, but we wouldn’t let him. I told him we’d tie him up if need be, but it didn’t come to that.”
Dusty cringed. “That’s probably for the best.”
“You realize you’re all sabotaging your academic futures?” Dr. Hughes blustered. “This isn’t going to end well for any of you.”
Kerim approached Stuart and Dusty, his brow furrowed with concern. “Could you please explain what’s going on?”
Dr. Hughes glared at Dusty. “Before you open your mouth, I want to remind you what will happen if you keep going. Not only will you jeopardize our entire season at Troy, but you’ll tank your boyfriend’s career. Stuart’s already in deep trouble for leaving his post to go after you. Don’t make me report him for sexual misconduct.”
She shot a nervous glance at Stuart, but he crossed his arms and scowled at Dr. Hughes. “Do your worst.”
“I don’t think you realize how much damage I can do to your reputation,” Dr. Hughes said. “You’re a new hire with everything to lose. I could make your life hell. There are few things more powerful than a tenured professor.”
Dusty wanted to smack the smug look right off his face. She wished he didn’t have the clout to ruin Stuart’s career. But she’d spent her life around academics. She knew how ruthless and competitive the system was and how tenure could give unfavorable types like Dr. Hughes too much power. Right now, he held the cards to Stuart’s future and had no qualms about exploiting that imbalance.
Stuart placed his hand on her shoulder. “Go on, Dusty. Don’t let him intimidate you.”
Before she could speak, Mort stood and cleared his throat. “If I might interject?” He turned to Dr. Hughes. “Do you know the only thing more powerful in academia than a tenured professor? An exceptionally wealthy alumnus.”
“Sit down, you useless idiot,” Dr. Hughes sputtered. “No one wants you here, taking up space and boring us with your endless stories.”
Mort’s face fell, but Dusty was quick to respond. “That’s not true! We all like Mort.”
“Of course,” Emilia said. “He’s been wonderful.”
“Yeah, he’s the best,” TJ added. “His stories rock.”
Mort chuckled. “While I’ll admit I’ve spent more time sitting outside at the café than in the trenches, I’ve enjoyed being a part of your dig. I’m grateful you’ve let an old man live out one of his dreams. But this recent turn of events has made me question my next donation to the University of Boston. At the end of the year, I usually dole out a hefty sum to various causes. Clarissa was trying to convince me to give it all to the animal shelter where she volunteers rather than donate anything to the university’s archaeology museum.”
“I didn’t sayallof it,” Clarissa added. “But the shelter could use more money.”
“Right. So…” Mort drew out the words. “Imagine if I were to call the dean of Humanities—whom I golf with regularly—and tell him I’m considering leaving the museum off my list because of the unprofessional behavior I witnessed. To be clear, I’m referring to Dr. Hughes’ behavior, not Stuart’s.”
