Page 15 of Disciplinary Action
“Evelyn—”
“Mrs. Abernathy,” she corrected.
“Mrs. Abernathy. I’d be more than happy to talk to the boy, and I’ll even go before the board, but I’m loathe to add to this boy’s already substantial burden just because it seems like a bunch of adults have it out for this kid.”
“He’s not a child. He’s nineteen, almost twenty. He spent the first seven years of his life in Hong Kong, and when he returned, it took some time for him to acclimate to life in America. It put him a year behind.”
“Have you spoken with the boy’s mother? What does she have to say about this? Is he seeing a therapist?”
“His mother passed when he was six. That’s why he and his father returned from China. He has no other family to speak of.” She tapped the folder before him. “Mr. Gideon, I admire your desire to help this boy but some people just don’t deserve second chances. I assured the board that you would see things our way and get this handled today.”
“That sounds like you may have overstepped a bit there, Mrs. Abernathy. Give me the boy’s file and pull him from first period. I want to speak with him.”
“There’s no need.”
“I’ll decide what’s necessary,” Gideon said.
She gave him a snide smile. “I simply meant the boy is already waiting for you in the hallway. I’ll send him in.”
She rose with the grace of an aging beauty queen, walking to the door and opening it. “Mr. Gideon will see you now, Callum.”
A strange knot formed in Gideon’s stomach though he couldn’t put his finger on why. The woman stepped back, and the boy entered, his gaze going wide, his mouth falling open.
Gideon cut his gaze toward the older woman. “That will be all, Mrs. Abernathy. I can take it from here. Shut the door behind you.”
She gave the boy another once over before doing as Gideon asked.
Gideon’s gaze roved over the student, taking in the navy blue blazer with the red piping and gold Roosevelt crest. The boy leaned against the door, hooking his fingers in the knot of his red and blue striped tie, tugging it until it hung loose around his neck. “Hey there, Daddy.” He smirked. “And you said you never see the same boy twice.”
Gideon’s pulse throbbed.Jesus. He did his best to keep his composure. “Sit down, Mr. Whyte.” Cal dropped into the vacated seat, giving Gideon a blank stare. “Do you know why you’re here?”
Cal shrugged one shoulder, all trace of the sweet boy he’d met just one week ago long gone. “Yeah, the board wants to kick me out of school in retaliation for my dad stealing all their money, but that doesn’t matter now, does it?”
Gideon cocked a brow. “Oh? And why is that?”
Cal leaned forward. “Are you familiar with the phrase ‘mutually assured destruction’?”
So, it was like that, was it? He supposed he didn’t blame the boy. He didn’t know that Gideon had no intention of expelling him. Cal was just playing the hand the school—and Gideon—had dealt him. Still, part of him was excited to see the boy sitting before him, even under these circumstances. But he refused to make his feelings known, certainly not when the boy was so proud of his little blackmailing scheme.
“Meaning?” Gideon asked.
The boy’s eyes sparkled, his smile a cross between coy and menacing. “Meaning we now both have something to lose. So, how about a littlequid pro quo?”
Gideon steepled his fingers. “What exactly did you have in mind, Mr. Whyte?”
“You don’t expel me, and in exchange, I won’t tell the school that you engaged in some very kinky behavior with one of your students.”
Gideon hooked a brow upward. “You are playing a very adult game here, Cal. Think carefully before you go down this path.”
“I played lots of adult games with you a week ago, remember? I have nothing left to lose. Can you say the same,Mr. Gideon?” When Gideon didn’t respond, the boy leaned forward. “It’s only six weeks.”
Gideon tightened his jaw until his teeth ached as he stared at the boy who’d almost made him break his rules. He should tell the boy that he had no intention of expelling him and let him know that his little blackmail scheme was useless. But something told him to let it play out. To see what happens.
“Gosh, you look really mad,” Cal mocked. “How about I lock the door and you can punish me? Roosevelt Preparatory Academy is real big on corporal punishment.” He glanced up at the large paddle hanging on the wall with the school crest etched into the handle. “See? It’s encouraged, even.”
There was no missing the tinge of desperation just beneath the boy’s tone. It was obvious Cal hadn’t planned this encounter. There was no way he could’ve known Gideon would end up as acting headmaster. It was just a series of unfortunate events that had led them to this moment, but it changed nothing. This boy—his boy—sat before him, threatening to expose him, desperate to provoke a response. Gideon had two choices: tell Cal he had never intended to expel him and send him back to class or let the boy believe he had the upper hand and give him what he really wanted, what he was so clearly begging for.
There was never any question what Gideon’s answer would be. He stood, walking around the desk to the door. Cal turned to watch, the light in his moss green eyes dimming when he saw Gideon reach for the handle. He sucked in a breath as Gideon locked the door. “Very well, little bird. Stand up. Lower your pants and underwear, and put your hands on the desk. If you utter a single sound, I’ll make sure you don’t sit down for a month without wincing. Understand?”
