A Lesson in Blackmail - Black Mountain Academy

“That won’t be necessary, Mr. Moran. I’ll sign whatever waiver I need in order to give my consent to this relationship,” she tells him, and I gasp, looking from her, to her husband—who has a little smirk on his lips as he looks at his son that looks oh-so familiar—then up to Nate, who is, in fact, giving me that same damn look as he stares down at me.

A thousand whirling thoughts overwhelm my mind, but only one thing comes out of my mouth when I see that expression. “You told your parents about me?” I squeak.

He lets out a cocky laugh. “Didn’t I tell you not to worry, that you should trust me?”

I open and close my mouth like a fish, not knowing how to answer that. There’s activity inside the assistant principal’s office, shuffling of papers, things being signed, and hands being shaken. I vaguely hear Mr. Moran assuring Nathaniel’s schedule wouldn’t have to be altered since I’m not technically one of his teachers in a graded class, and then I’m moving as Nate leads me toward the door.

“Evelyn, dear. Would you do us the honor of coming for dinner tonight? I know you commute quite far, but I’ve already got it in the oven, so you’ll still be able to head home at a decent hour,” Mrs. Black invites, and I’m startled that she already knows that much about me.

My lips reply before my head even catches up. “I’d love to.”

“You’ve been through a lot, baby. You’ll ride with me and I’ll bring you back to your car once you’re good and full and your nerves aren’t as frazzled,” Nate informs me, and I close my eyes, grateful to have finally found my Dominant half and he’s chosen this moment to assert it.

“That sounds perfect,” I tell him, and even though his mom is right there watching us, I can’t help but tip my head up to give him an appreciative smile, to which he leans down, just like I knew he would, and places a sweet kiss to my lips.

My cheeks flame, even though I know I instigated it, and I shyly meet his mother’s eyes. But all I see there is the twinkle of happiness, not the look of a woman luring me back to her home to kill me slowly for defiling her precious only child.

“Let’s go grab your things, little mouse,” Nate tells me, and we turn to make our way down the hallway as his dad calls out.

“Takes eight minutes and thirteen seconds to get to our house, son. Better see you there in fifteen.”

And my hand slaps over my mouth as I let out a giggle—one, because his dad was clearly stating there was to be no more shenanigans in the library, and two, because it sounded so very like something Nate would say.Chapter 21EvieOn the ride to his house, Nate seems to sense I need a minute to process everything that just happened, so he holds my hand and turns up his music, giving me the time to get my thoughts in order. And just like his dad said, with a glance at the clock in Nathaniel’s fancy dashboard, I see it only took eight minutes to get here. I look out the windshield at the sprawling… I can’t even call it a house. It’s a freaking mansion if I’ve ever seen one, and Nate laughs at the first thing that comes out of my mouth.

“You said your mom does everything herself? She must clean from sunup to sundown.”

“Nah, we have housekeepers, but Mom cooks and does all the decorating and stuff herself. She’s a homemaker minus the maidly duties,” he explains, and I nod, my eyes never leaving the freaking castle before me.

“She’s living the good life,” I murmur, and he chuckles.

“Let’s go in before my dad has an aneurism because I’m late.”

I scoff. “You mean before you have an aneurism for being late.”

“Tomatoes, to-mah-toes.” He gets out and comes around the hood, opening my door and leaning across me to unbuckle my seatbelt as always. Something I’ve never questioned, since it makes me feel so taken care of. I place my hand in his and he helps me down from his truck, and then he leads me up the steps to the giant front doors, my eyes trying to take everything in at once.

The door opens just as he reaches for the knob, startling me a bit, especially when I see his mom standing there with an expression I can’t quite decipher. But I take it as excitement when suddenly she grips me by the shoulders and hauls me over the threshold and into a tight hug. It all happens so fast I stand there stiffly for a second, but then Nathaniel’s “Mooom, stop suffocating my girl” echoes throughout the huge foyer, and I relax against her, bringing my arms up to lay my palms flat against the middle of her back. She’s shaped a lot like me, petite and thin, but her hips are a little wider and she’s got about an inch of height on me. Her scent is a pleasant floral.