Page 92 of The Headmaster’s Rule

She smiles as if sensing my worry. “He won’t mind. I should warn you, though”—she wrinkles her nose—“he’s been in a mood all morning.”

This does not make me feel better.

She drops her voice, giving me a conspiratorial smile. “But I’m sure you’ll know how to cheer him up.”

Then she returns to her computer, tapping at her keyboard, while heat douses my face. I hurry into Theo’s office, closing the door behind me, flooded by mortification. Did Theo tell her? I know she’s his assistant, but he wouldn’t do that, would he?

No, he wouldn’t. Juliana’s right, we’re not as good at hiding this as we think. It’s getting out of hand. We’ve been lucky so far, but we only need the wrong person to catch us, and we’re toast. Theo would lose his job. My career would be over. And another scandal would rock the school.

I press my fingertips into my eyes, breathing out. I realize I haven’t even brought the damn lighting plans with me, that’s how thin my excuse was.

God, we have to stop.

But the thought of him no longer touching me, kissing me, cheering me on, makes my heart ache.

I don’t want to stop. I want the opposite of that.

Exhaling slowly, I notice for the first time how warm the room is. A soft crackle comes from my right, and when I glance over, my heart lifts. He’s lit the fire. A smile tugs at my lips as I sink into one of the leather chairs, sighing at the blissful feeling of warmth. From the fire, yes, but also from the fact that he listened to me. He always listens to me.

Hope blossoms tentatively in my chest. What if there was a way to make this work? To come clean to everyone and be together, for real? Would Theo and I even work as a couple outside the school?

Before I can fully process the thought, the door bursts open and he storms in, followed by a sheepish-looking student. He doesn’t see me. Doesn’t even glance toward the corner where I’m sitting.

“It didn’t mean anything,” the kid protests sullenly. “Mr. Winslow is the one making us draw those stupid therapy posters.”

I freeze. He’s talking about a task Rowan ran this morning in preparation for the fundraiser. A Safe Harbor-inspired activity I designed to gather student artwork and incorporate it into the fundraiser displays.

Headmaster Wright’s jaw tightens at the kid’s description of the activity, and he unbuttons his jacket with quiet authority, radiating tension as he sets it aside, as if he’s about to brawl with this kid.

“It wasn’t funny,” he grits out. “You’ve embarrassed another student, disrespected your teacher, and undermined something this school values.”

The kid rolls his eyes. “It was just a joke.”

A muscle tics in Theo’s neck, a sure sign he’s trying to control his temper. I should say something. Let him know I’m here. But his next words root me to the spot.

“You mocked something that was meant to make people feel safe. Do you think I’m going to let that slide? You need to learn some respect, Mr. Weiner.”

My heart swells. When I first met this man at the start of this semester, he cared more for school reputation and board satisfaction than anything else. Now, he’s fiercely defending Safe Harbor, an initiative designed with student emotional wellbeing at its core. An initiative I created.

“Mocking another student’s vulnerability is not only disrespectful, it’s destructive. If you can’t tell the difference, I’ll teach it to you.”

Safety. Vulnerability. Respect.

I’m not sure if he’s aware of it, but he’s using language central to Safe Harbor. Language I haven’t heard him use so freely before. It’s only been a couple of months, but I can see the changes in him, the growth. And it’s not only because he’s with me. He doesn’t even know I can hear him. He cares about this. Really cares.

And that makes me feel something that goes way beyond a crush on my boss. Beyond the undeniable sexual chemistry between us.

Beyond what I’ve ever felt before.

“This school does not reward cruelty,” Headmaster Wright continues, the edge of fury in his voice sharpening. “If you want to be a person who tears others down, you can do it somewhere else.”

A defiant huff comes from the kid, and Theo’s jaw hardens into stone. When he speaks next, his voice is calm. Too calm. The kind of calm that belies the anger simmering underneath. Anger he could unleash, but he’s not, because he’s the one in control.

“You will attend the next Safe Harbor prep session. You will listen. You will participate. And if you so much as roll your eyes, Mr. Weiner, I will suspend you.”

I swallow, my mouth suddenly dry. The way he speaks, measured, hard, no room for argument, makes something hot flutter inside me. He’s putting the student in his place, but all I can think is do it to me next. Take control.

Take everything.