Page 12 of See Me After Class

Maybe she was scared of what could happen between us. My lips curled into a ghost of a smile. "I never take no for an answer, Desdemona Davenport."

She turned the doorknob and pushed her door open. I lounged in the doorway, watching her deposit her bags on the compact lambswool rug by her even more compact bed. My eyes scanned the room.

At least she got clean sheets, a neat little pillow, and a desk for studying. Everything else about the room, including the clinical white walls, was shitty.

My quarters downstairs boasted rich mahogany accents, furnished with a minibar and complete with a king-sized bed. It was perfect for the occasional company, which was why I'd trudged a suitcase up here. I had kind of hoped I'd be entertaining the new girl tonight, but she was apparently Wednesday Addams in real life. Then again, even that oddity found a boy she wanted to kiss.

"You haven't left," she observed in that strange little way of hers.

"Are you dismissing me?" I asked pointedly.

"I'm not invested enough to care."

I watched her push a stray black curl away from her face as she unpacked her bags. The contents were neatly arranged,separated into size-specific piles, color-coded, and methodically arranged. She took out each pile in descending order, beginning with her delicates.

Finally, toiletries spilled out of a compact waterproof pouch, their colorful containers contrasting sharply with the mundane surroundings. Black pumps and a pair of plain bedroom slippers found their places beneath the unadorned, weathered plywood dresser.

The empty bags crumpled into forlorn, deflated forms beneath the simple single bed.

Did Miss Davenport pay this much attention to detail when she undressed with the intent to fuck? I became hard at the very thought.

Once she had pushed the bags under her dresser, she straightened and wheeled around, only to look right past me.

Was she ignoring me on purpose? I pushed the thought away. She was playing hard to get. There. That was a thought I could work with.

"One dinner," I said.

"Excuse me?"

"I'm asking you to come to one dinner with me," I pressed. "If you don't enjoy yourself, I won't bother you again."

She batted her long eyelashes at me. Her face remained completely unreadable. "If I agree," she finally replied, "will you leave me alone?"

Oh, well. I'd take that as a win. "Sure thing."

"Deal."

Seconds later, an angry cough behind me told me the reason. The matron on this floor was Lorena McPhee, a thin, sly rake of a woman who hated having men of any description on her territory.

"Dr. Vincenzo," she remarked behind me in that special, poison-laden, saccharine-soaked voice she reserved for thosewho encroached on her kingdom, "Thank you for coming to welcome our newest staff member. I'll take over from here."

I wheeled around. "I'm happy to show her around."

"That won't be necessary," she said firmly. "Please don't let us keep you from your lunch."

She may have heard my stomach churning audibly.

I flashed her an ingratiating smile, my charm dialed up to full wattage. My efforts were in vain. Her lips contorted, soured by stubbornness. With a resigned shrug, I conceded the battle and made my exit.

Frustration gnawed at me when I overheard D.C. Davenport engaging in a far more cordial conversation with Lorena. Their voices carried through the corridor. "Thank the stars you've arrived, Matron," she exclaimed, her words echoing softly throughout the narrow space. "I was at a complete loss for how to rid myself of him."

Lorena's response seemed excessively pleased. "Well, I've had plenty of experience in such matters, dear."

The dulcet strains in D.C. Davenport's voice were remarkably apparent when it wasn't directed toward a man. Anger simmered within me as I turned on my heel, making a hasty descent down the stairs, two steps at a time.

As I rounded the corner while climbing down the stairs, I ran into Ruby. She stood like a gargoyle, her face a bright shade of red.

"So," she breathed. "I followed you two."

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