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“Try not to look too sexy in class tomorrow.” She jokes, smiling over at me. “Although, you’d look good in burlap sack.”
“Look who’s talking.” I chuff out a retort. “No repeats of what you wore on Friday to class or I’ll be throwing you over my desk and all bets will be off.”
“I promise.” She sighs in agreement as we pull up to the address she gave. It’s on the Upper East Side of Fifth Ave, across the street from Central Park. These people had no issues spending their wealth. There’s a doorman standing outside the entrance, so I feel comfortable that she’ll be more than safe here.
“You’ll call me?” I cup her cheek.
“As soon as I’m settled.” She nods under my palm.
I kiss her. It’s soft and tender and the opposite of everything I want to do. Which is ravage her. “I love you.”
She brushes her lips against mine one more time, before stepping out of the car. “I love you too.”
The phone rings, and I roll over, snatching it off my nightstand, certain it has to be Summer. We spoke for an hour last night, but we don’t have class together until ten, so I’m guessing she wants to say good morning.
“Good morning.” My voice hoarse, not fully awake yet.
“Good morning, Professor Walker.” A male voice on the other line, and not what or who I was expecting at all. “It’s Robert Johnson.”
“Bob.” Fuck, what the hell was the vice president of the math department calling me for on the Tuesday morning after a holiday weekend. “How can I help you?”
“I’m afraid I’m going to need you to come down to my office.” The voice clears on the other end of the line before continuing. “I’ve already reached out to Tim to manage your class schedule this morning. Ten works for me.”
“Can you tell me what this is regarding?” I inquire, certain no one could possibly have any knowledge of my relationship with Summer so quickly.
“I’m afraid it requires a face to face.” He releases a heavy sigh. “It’s not good though, Alexander.”
“Not helping my blood pressure at all, Bob.” I respond, confusion swirling in my brain.
“I’ll see you at ten. My office.” The line clicks, followed by silence. I stare at the phone, dumbfounded.
I make the decision not to call Summer. She’s dealt with enough this weekend, and I don’t want to alarm her if this matter has nothing to do with her. Although, I can’t for the life of me think of what else it could be. I haven’t worked as an escort in over four months, so if it was related to that, I would think it would have caught up to me long ago.
I shower, shave, dress in a suit, then choke down a coffee through my nerves. I grab an Uber to the V.P.’s building, announcing my arrival to his secretary upon entering the office. It doesn’t take more than a few minutes before the door opens, Bob beckoning me inside.
“How are you, Alex?” He motions for me to take a seat.
“I’d be better if I knew what this impromptu meeting was about.” I sit, unbuttoning my jacket as I do.
“Yes, let’s skip the formalities and get right to it, shall we?” He frowns, spinning his computer monitor so I can see it.
My heart stops beating as my breath catches in my throat. Images of Summer and myself; naked in the hot tub, fucking on the deck, dancing arm in arm at Ballard’s restaurant, us doing shots of tequila, us having sex on the beach.
“I’m sorry, Alex.” His tone somber, dragging my attention from the screen to him.
“Who sent these to you?” I demand, my pulse thrumming in pace to my racing heart.
“That’s what your concerned about?” Bob shakes his head, his fingers drumming against the hard wood of his desk. “They were sent anonymously. Not that it matters, Alex. The damage is done.”
My attention drifts back to the grainy images on the screen. Someone had been spying on us the entire weekend. My skin crawled, goosebumps springing to life as I drag a hand through my hair. Some sick mother fucker was watching us.
“The sender was kind enough to inform us that the person in these images with you is a student of yours, Summer Knight.” The sarcasm in his tone isn’t lost on me. I know he’s not getting any pleasure from this conversation.
“A twenty-three-year-old, consenting adult.” I grind out. “But yes, she’s in my physic’s class.”
“Alex, you know better.” He steeples his fingers, his brow lined with crinkles as he stares across the desk at me. “And you know the policy regarding professors dating students.” He sighs warily. “I met with President Anders earlier this morning, and because this is your first offense, neither one of us feels terminating you is necessary.”
Hope blooms in my chest, but is quickly extinguished with his next statement. “You have to agree to no longer see this student, take a seminar on sexual conduct, and you’ll be on probation for the next two semesters.”
