Page 49 of My Forbidden Professor

“You think the only thing I’d have over you is a piece of pussy that’s long gone. I didn’t get to where I am today by being stupid, Black. I see situations from all sides and if I were you, I’d be trying to build a case against me. And make it good enough to stick. It’s the only reason you haven’t cut and run by now.”

He’s known all along? My grip is hard enough to strangle the wheel. I stare at him, grinding molars.

A smarmy smile crosses his face. “That’s what I thought. Seems we’ve both played the same game, only I’m several steps ahead of you. I’m sure the authorities will be very interested in documents showing how you’re extorting the university. I have emails. Money transfers. Receipts. All under your log in credentials, of course.”

I should have anticipated he’d do something to protect himself. Should have known. Still I have to try. “Those documents are utter fabrications and you know it. They’ll never—”

“Hold up?” Marcus cuts me off with a derisive snort. “Think about it, Black. Who do you think the authorities are going to believe, you or the revered dean of a university? It’s the same reason you’ve probably spent all this time getting evidence against me. But you know what they’ll see? They’ll see that you’re a Professor of Business Analytics. A man who knows how to funnel money and who has the means to access university funds thanks to your offer to help me manage college funds. Most people would think it’s too much temptation. And if all else fails, I’m sure someone, somewhere, will like the little extra sent their way, or even scholarships for their kids, should they decide to study at Midwestern University.”

I resist the urge to gag. He’s right. And I, more than most, know how persuasive Marcus is. All he needs is a weak someone to manipulate. Someone desperate. Someone willing to overlook things that should not be overlooked.

“You repulsive sack of shit,” I bite out in a guttural rasp. The rage simmering through my veins is an all-consuming inferno and, in that moment, a caustic blaze of hatred and disgust razes through me for myself as much as for him. How many years have I let this parasite manipulate and blackmail me? All for the sake of getting more evidence against him when all he had to do it was concoct the same evidence against me.

I thought he was too stupid when all along he played me.

Only now. Now I have something more than myself to lose.

A sneer curls his thin lips. “Remember your place, Black. And on that little note, I’m sure you’re aware of the latest gossip around campus?”

White-hot rage surges up my throat with such force that I nearly choke on it. The thought of Marcus using Steph—my Steph—as another twisted pawn in his game ignites an unstoppable fury and protective ferocity inside me. “What about it?”

“Have you forgotten my request, Professor? Imagine my surprise to find out our Steph Smith is actually Stephanie Chandler—and your dissertation student to boot. No doubt you’ve gotten to know each other quite well while working on that little project together.”

He knows. Sickness roils in the pit of my stomach, bitter and rancid. I clamp my lips together, forcing the words I want to say back down. Because as much as I want nothing more than to reach through this car window and rip that leer right off his revolting face, the instinct for self-preservation still wars inside me with the driving need to protect Steph at all costs.

“That’s an easy in for you, Black. You’re already a step ahead. Are you getting my drift?” Marcus says.

“Crystal,” I snap.

“Then we’re on the same wavelength when I tell you I want to see another juicy donation from David Chandler very soon. Nice little chat we’ve had. Glad we could catch up. Enjoy your evening, Professor.”

I watch in seething silence as Marcus strides back toward the parking garage’s main exit, the burn of his parting words ricocheting through my head long after he’s disappeared from sight. Anger washes over me in crashing waves but I reel it in slowly, taking solace from the main part of our conversation. Whether he knows it or not, we’re over. He thinks he has me over a barrel, but we’re more than finished.

Ironically, I should thank Marcus for setting me free from the iron shackles of my own fear. I inhale a shuddering breath, then another, using each lungful of oxygen to infuse me with greater resolve, greater clarity about what needs to happen next. There’ll be time to unravel Marcus—right now, there’s something far more vital I have to do.

Find Steph and pour out every last unguarded truth I have left to give.

I truly have nothing to lose.

With a twist of my wrist, the engine roars to life. I’m done being a victim—that man dies tonight.

Steph is my destiny.

No more lies, no more torment.

She’s my sole mission now, and nothing will stop me from taking what I want.

Nothing.

Chapter Twenty-One

Jacob

The rumble of the plane’s engines fades into a dull roar as we descend over the twinkling Manhattan skyline. This is insane. A desperate, impulsive idea fueled by nothing more than a blind need to find Steph.

How did I think I could just show up in this massive city and...what? Stumble across her by sheer dumb luck? The self-doubt and reality of my foolishness creeps in but I squash it down ruthlessly.

I can’t lose her, not like this.

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