Page 64 of My Forbidden Professor

“Okay...tell me what I need to do in order to get that son of a bitch to take the bait. I’m fucking game if it means putting Daniel down for good.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Jacob

I stand in the courtyard at Midwestern University, trying to appear casual as I chat with some of my students about their business analytics assignments. In reality, I’m only half-listening to their questions and responding on auto-pilot.

The other half of my attention is focused on the periphery—scanning the clusters of undergrads lounging on the grass, soaking up the early spring sunshine over their lunch break.

Word has spread like wildfire about David Chandler’s “generous donation” to the university, stemming from those photos the public relations department at Blue Sky released. In them, Steph beams alongside her newly married father and stepmother, all smiles and affection with an accompanying statement about wishing them well and David’s desire to “give back” to his daughter’s academic community.

It’s all carefully orchestrated.

Rumors and speculation about the exact amount of Blue Sky’s donation grow more exaggerated and outlandish by the day.

Which is exactly what we wanted.

It’s been a week since I left New York. A week of being apart from Steph. But a necessary week.

It didn’t take long for Marcus to approach me after David’s donation appeared in the university’s account. It was a simple matter of shifting money through the dummy funds we set up with Tristan. It was made easier because, as usual, Marcus checked nothing of what I did or how I did it. He made the usual demands. Put his trust in me after he put me in my place. I might have been stupid enough to think he wouldn’t falsify evidence against me but he failed to anticipate the lengths I’d go to free myself.

The idiot.

The alarms coded through Tristan’s bank started to ping hours after the transfer, showing a clear money trail in Marcus Sotheby’s name. It was very sloppy work on my behalf. I should have been more careful, but such is life. It was a simple matter of Tristan notifying the authorities about Marcus’s embezzlement once the money filtered into an offshore account under Marcus’s name. Marcus will head to prison with nothing to his name but disgrace.

By now, he should have been alerted to hand himself in to avoid public embarrassment.

“Professor Black?”

The jarring bellow cuts through the courtyard, silencing conversations and drawing every eye toward the figure plowing across the lawn. Marcus’s ruddy face is twisted in a rictus of rage as his glare zeroes in on me.

I politely excuse myself from the bewildered students and move away from them. But not too far. After all, I want everyone to hear.

“Can I help you with something, Dean Sotheby?” I keep my voice mild, not rising to meet his combative energy even as he storms right up into my personal space.

“You little shit,” he spits out, seemingly oblivious to the fact that we’ve become the focus of dozens of eyes and camera phones already. “Playing me for a fool with your little games? You’re in way over your damn head this time, Black.”

I blink at him, feigning confusion as my heart kicks up a staccato rhythm against my ribcage. “I’m afraid I have no idea what you’re referring to, sir.”

“Don’t even try to play dumb with me!” His shout is a whip-crack of barely restrained rage, fuming jowls quivering with the effort of suppressing the torrent surely straining to erupt. “Why the hell am I being called in by the police? What the hell did you do with my money?”

I make sure my frown draws low. “Your money? Do you mean the university’s money from the Chandler donation? If that’s what you’re referring to, I placed it in a secure account in order to safeguard it. Just as you usually ask me to do with all university funds. You can check your paperwork if you’d like to check.”

He brings his face close to mine, perspiration glistening on his face. “I want my money right the fuck now.”

I take a step away. “Everything is in your account. I can give you a copy of the transfers signed off by you, should you wish to see them? I always log in my details when handling the vast amounts of money that pass through the accounts here so anyone can see I’m above board. But if you’re suggesting I’ve hidden the money for my own purposes…well, that’s a serious accusation. In fact, that’s an accusation of theft and embezzlement. And I would call that slander, Dean Sotheby. Would you like me to come with you and talk to the police? I’m sure I can help straighten everything out with them.”

It’s amazing to witness the rapid mottling of Marcus’s face as the implication of my words sinks in, his body going rigid while his gaze darts around at the students who are watching this conversation. Some of them have started recording on their phones, too. He recognizes that subtle shift in dynamics, senses the trap being baited whether he has the self-awareness to fully comprehend how it sprang shut around him using the same threats he aimed at me. The only difference is, his were fabricated and mine are real.

“You...you’d better fix this,” he growls again, quieter now yet somehow twice as menacing. “I’ll bury your entire career so deep in the ground, you pathetic piece of shit. Fix it now before I—”

I lean close so I can whisper to him. No one else can hear but him. “You would have already ended my career long ago if you really intended to do that, but your greed outweighed your good sense.”

“Have you forgotten about Emily?” Marcus snarls.

I lean in close and whisper. “Your word means shit. Who would trust the tainted dean of a university after embezzlement?”

A siren whoops and a police car draws into the parking space on the other end of the lawn. Marcus’s gaze zeroes in on the two officers alighting their car.

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