I stop dead in my tracks, my gaze falling on the side of the computer. He couldn’t have found it. I hid it. Very well, I might add. He’d have to know he was looking for something in order to find it. Unless he knew all along. At this point, I’m putting nothing past him.
“Seriously, Zara, under the carpet? That’s like fucking Burglar 101. I thought you were smarter than that. But I have to hand it to you, this whole plan you’ve hatched is pretty damn impressive. I love how committed you are to the things you’re passionate about.” His dark, angry brown eyes narrow, sending a shiver down my spine. “Too bad you were never this passionate about us.”
“Us?” I laugh. Is he serious? “You think I don’t know you’re with a different skank every weekend? You fucked my cousin behind my back. You got her pregnant, Dillon. She killed herself because of you.”
“She killed herself because she couldn’t handle what she’d done to you, Zara,” he scoffs. “If you want to point fingers, then you’re the reason she offed herself, not me. I offered to pay for an abortion. You’d never have found out, but no. She couldn’t do it. She took the easy way out.”
“You threatened her, you asshole. Don’t think I don’t fucking know what—”
“Are you falling in love with him?” he interrupts.
“What?” Being caught off guard is never a good thing for me. Word vomit mixed with my temper—things are about to get really ugly.
“Bain. You’re in love with him, aren’t you? You think he’s going to want you after he discovers that you set out to ruin him?” He laughs. “God, you’re as clueless as your cousin. What was the plan? What were you planning on doing with your little performance, anyway?”
I step forward and snatch the USB from the laptop, my face heating up. He laughs and shuts the screen, undeterred by my behavior. I rub my sweaty palms against the legs of my jeans, my heart pounding. I need to destroy this before he does anything. Dropping the drive to the floor, I stomp on it, feeling a little bit of pride as I watch the plastic shatter under my weight and pieces fly across the dining room. My eyes meet his and I see a flicker of amusement. I’m uneasy. I can’t shake the feeling that I’m already too late.
“You’re not shy, are you, Zara? Now’s not the time to be feeling bashful. You’ll be famous tomorrow. They say a good sex tape can launch anyone’s career, right?”
I feel the blood drain from my face. He didn’t…
“As of about forty-five seconds ago, every single person—students and alumni—in the Northwestern email system just received your little show.”
Oh God, no.
Chapter 24
Noah
The incessant pounding on the front door pulls me from a deep slumber. Well, as deep as it can be with my phone ringing off the hook for the last few hours. Somewhere around seven in the morning, I turned the ringer off, and when I felt like the phone was g
oing to vibrate its way off the nightstand, I powered it down completely.
“Coming. Give me a minute!” I scream to whoever thinks eight-fifteen is an appropriate time to be woken up on a Saturday morning. I, for one, think it’s extremely rude. I didn’t have the greatest night. After Zara left, I felt kind of depressed, not knowing if she’d be back or if our relationship was done, so I did the only thing I could think of. I sat my sad ass on the couch and proceeded to down nearly a bottle of the finest bottom-shelf vodka I could find. The raging headache I’m experiencing believes that the knocking offender is due for a piece of my mind.
More banging, only louder and harder this time. “Shit,” I mumble to myself, stumbling into a pair of loose-fitting sweatpants. I grab a T-shirt from the drawer and walk to the door as I pull it over my head. When I approach, I move the shutter, looking out the peephole, surprised to find it’s my boss standing on the other side, and she doesn’t look excited to be awake and pounding on my door this early, either.
Slightly cracking the door, I peer out into the hallway to see if anyone else is joining her on this unscheduled, out-of-the-ordinary visit. “Good morning, Dean Calloway. How can I help you?”
Before I can blink, she’s pushed herself into my apartment. Sarcastically, I wave my arm wide, inviting her inside. “Please, come in,” I mutter. Her head whips in my direction, eyes cold as ice, and she offers a tight-lipped smile.
“I’m glad to see you’re in good spirits, Noah. I can only assume you’ve not checked your email yet.”
“No, ma’am, I haven’t. I find it customary on non-work days to get as much extra sleep as possible, as you can tell by my just-woken glow,” I quip, quickly wishing I hadn’t, but what’s done is done, right?
“Why don’t you have a seat so we can discuss a game plan? We’re going to need to get ahead of this. I wouldn’t be surprised if the news crews and reporters are already champing at the bit to get a piece of you. Now really isn’t the time to try to be funny.”
Running my hand over the stubble on my jawline, I stare at her, asking for a little more to go on. I’m not sure what’s happening, but if reporters are going to want to get at me, I’m guessing it’s nothing good. Nothing good at all.
“Karen, can you at least tell me what it is we’re trying to get ahead of? And why people would want to talk to me? I have to admit, you’ve got me at a loss. I have no idea what you’re going on about.”
“At one-forty-two this morning, an email was sent to myself, as well as the rest of the faculty. Also in receipt of this message were the entire student body, alumni…pretty much anyone with a Northwestern email address. The sender was a student of yours, a Ms. Zara Hamilton,” she explains, and my stomach drops.
She told.
Not just that she turned me in for improper conduct with a student to my boss, but told everyone she could about our relationship. It’s not illegal by any means, but the implications that I’m her superior—a person with certain controls over her anyway—makes the situation that much worse. Had she not been my student, just an attending student, it would have made a world of difference. This is so much worse. I’m going to lose my job.
“Dean, I can explain our relationship. Ms. Hamilton and I did participate in a sexual relationship, but I can assure you that no special treatment was given to Zara since our relationship began. With the exception of our encounters, I’ve been professional….” I sound like I’m already admitting guilt and should probably wait for an attorney, but the overwhelming need to defend myself is overriding that notion.