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At that, she frowns. “Oh, I don’t think that’s wise. It’s like giving them a free pass for the rules they’ve already broken.”
“Well, it depends what your purpose is, I suppose.” I force my tense shoulders into a shrug. “If we’re trying to stop cheating, then I can’t see the harm. If your primary focus is to punish the students…”
She straightens, looking offended. “No onewantsto punish the students.”
“Then giving them a chance to course correct is surely a more valuable life lesson. Don’t you think?”
It’s a load of nonsense but Ashleigh is now flustered enough to agree with every word. I switch subjects, not wanting to linger long enough for her to think over our discussion. My coffee is lukewarm, but I force it down before excusing myself.
The lesson after lunch is a no-contact period. Paisley’s schedule has her on a study break for the same session.
I wander past the cafeteria, noticing that Marnie is there with her boyfriend again. He fondles her, but his eyes stare straight at Paisley, making her squirm in her seat, discomfort rolling off her in waves so strong they’re practically visible.
The little shit.
If I need a side project, it should be to get that kid kicked as far from this school as possible.
Myeyes may crawl with slow anticipation across every visible inch of her body. Not those belonging to an over-privileged gangster’s son being groomed by daddy for the top spot. If he’s Creighton’s ultimate target, I’ll happily shove him off the plank to his certain death.
A tremor grips my hand and I calm it by pressing against my abdomen. My focus returns to Paisley. My eyes trace the delicate features that my mind can reproduce with exquisite clarity any time I close my eyes.
Paisley. Who’s writing essays for at least four students in the senior year. Whether her attempts to disguise her voice fool a machine or not remains to be seen.
An offer of protection in return for favours is such an integral part of my family’s business that my thoughts immediately leap there without prompting.
I want to have her again the same way I had her before. Since my ill-conceived fumble in the library, I’ve tried to go on a date again, dialling an old favourite from my phone. Once more, I bailed, the idea causing me actual distress.
When I try it with Paisley again, I’ll know if she’s an obsession I can fuck out of my head or if she’s lodged deeper. A girl I might have to possess. A girl I could feel the same excitement fucking for the thousandth time as I felt fucking her the first.
This sudden crackdown on cheating must be fate pointing us in the right direction.
She won’t want to risk the consequences if she’s found out. She’ll be grateful when I risk my job to warn her, removing the immediate threat.
She’ll also be without any form of income.
I’ve never been a sugar daddy before. At twenty-six, the title doesn’t sit that well on me, but I’m willing to give it a try.
My heart beats faster with excitement. What I ultimately want won’t happen today, not in the limited time available, but I can make it happen soon. Maybe even as quickly as this weekend.
I text her a message asking her to meet me at the corner outside the school in ten minutes. The typing dots that appear do their little dance for so long, I’m half thinking she’ll decline.
Then she sends back a yes.
CHAPTERELEVEN
PAISLEY
I stare at the text,a pulse beating hard in my neck.
It’s the dress. It worked.
Three and a half weeks since he dropped by my table at the mall. Two and a half weeks since our brief encounter in the library. Ever since then, he’s ignored me in the classroom and now he’s finally remembered I exist.
I text back a cute phrase, then rethink, then try a curt response, then have a clutch of horror at what he’ll read into the one-word reply. I backspace it out of existence and try again. “Love to.”
Love to? No, girl. You might as well just run up to him in the quad and drop to your knees.
Backspace again. I chew on the inside of my cheek, staring at the words on the screen until they’re imprinted on my retinas.
