Page 35 of The Headmaster’s Rule

And that’s incredibly dangerous.

I should not be having these thoughts about Eleanor, for many reasons. I’m her boss, and the power imbalance between us is real. As if that wasn’t enough, she’s only a couple of years older than Juliana. Young enough to be my daughter herself. That alone is reason enough to stay well away.

To act on this would do the one thing I’ve sworn not to let happen again under my watch: damage the school’s reputation.

In case I needed the reminder, my father called this afternoon. Even from Florida, he keeps in touch with the board, feeling the need to check in from time to time. He seemed especially skeptical about Safe Harbor, and I spent twenty minutes explaining why this new initiative will benefit the school.

I understand his hesitation. I was like that at first, too. Worried it was too soft, not nearly academic enough. But now I find myself defending it.

Defending her.

No matter how hard I try, my defenses are crumbling. When she showed up with takeout and a hopeful smile this evening, I was helpless to do anything other than let her in. And when I saw her face light with pure joy as I told her Safe Harbor is going ahead… Shit. I wanted to pull her close and kiss that smile right off her pretty face. I haven’t wanted to do that to a woman in a very long time.

And I’ve never wanted to do it to someone who works for me.

I toe my shoes off at the door, stripping my shirt as I head straight to the shower. I need to cleanse myself of these terrible thoughts before they escalate.

Before I do something stupid.

But as I kick off my slacks and boxer-briefs, my fingers brush my cock. That’s all it takes for Eleanor’s face to flash through my mind, for all the blood in my body to rush south. For me to end up standing in the shower with my fist wrapped around my length, telling myself I’m not hurting anyone. It’s a fantasy, just for me. A chance to blow off a little steam, to take the edge off, to make sure I keep my hands to myself.

A few tugs, and I let my hand drop, unable to go through with it. I want to respect her, not degrade her. She deserves better.

Rinsing off, I step from the shower, unable to wash away my shame.

I go to bed still hard.

I wake to the sound of my phone buzzing on the nightstand in the dark. Blinking from a restless, sweaty slumber, I fumble for the lamp, flooding the room with light, then lift the phone to my ear.

“Hello?” I ask groggily. My first thought is that it’s Eleanor, which makes no sense. Why would it be? Must be the remnants of a dream, because I’m certain I was dreaming about her.

“Mr. Wright? It’s José.”

“José?” I pull the phone from my ear to check the time; 4:45 in the morning. What could the head of security need me for at this time? “Everything okay?”

“Not really, sir. You’re going to want to see this.”

Dread settles in my stomach as I hastily dress and head out onto campus. The grounds are still cloaked in pre-dawn shadow, the air damp and heavy with salt. Light flickers faintly behind the maintenance shed, and I follow the sound of José’s urgent, concerned voice.

When I arrive, I see exactly what he means. Shards of glass glitter beneath a smashed window, catching the beam from José’s flashlight. The door hangs ajar on broken hinges, glass crunching underfoot as I peek inside. The cabinets have been yanked open, drawers left hanging, their contents strewn across the floor.

A sickening feeling twists my gut as I take in the wreckage. Who would do this? I glance back to ask José, but he answers before I can.

“Probably just some kids, or someone looking for something to make a quick buck.”

“Maybe,” I mutter, rubbing the back of my neck. It doesn’t seem like the kind of thing any of the staff would bother with. Most of them have access to far more expensive equipment inside. Why break into the shed for this?

From behind us, footsteps crunch softly over fallen leaves. I glance over my shoulder as a tall, broad-shouldered figure approaches in the dark, toolbox in hand.

Mason Blackwood has been the groundskeeper here for six years. A quiet and brooding man who prefers to keep to himself, he works on the school grounds alone and seldom interacts with other staff, no doubt because rumors seem to follow him like a shadow. The faculty speculate that he’s ex-military. That he’s done time. That he’s on the run from something. I ran a full background check before hiring him and nothing came up. Just a man who works hard. He keeps the school running smoothly, never takes a day off, never misses anything. I respect his dedication.

Mason crouches by the door without a word, examining the hinges, his dark brows furrowed. “Snapped in half,” he says finally, voice low and even.

José nods. “I heard the noise, but by the time I got here, whoever did it was long gone.”

Mason stands and heads inside, flashlight in hand, methodically checking the damage. I know he’ll get the place cleaned up and secured again in no time, but that’s not what bothers me.

What bothers me is knowing someone did this to our school. The place I’m supposed to protect. And even though it makes no sense, this feels like a punishment. For the thoughts I’ve been having about Eleanor lately.