Page 10 of RAKEish

Frankie looked directly at her. “Darling, you’re simply not that good at your job.”

“Bite me,” Isabella replied, before tearing her gaze away from Frankie and giving Scott a soft smile. “I’ve got your back. You can count on me.”

Scott swallowed hard. He’d bet his left nut his whole life was about to blow up, and Doc would be collateral damage.

CHAPTER 4

Walking to work instead of taking the subway gave Luxury time to regroup her thoughts, something she greatly needed after this morning’s on-air epic failure. Scott Landshire’s unexpected call, combined with her no sleep situation, had thrown her bruised and battered psyche into a spiral of chaos, which had, unfortunately, resulted in her blurting things better left unsaid over the air, which had, super unfortunately, resulted in a swift social media fallout not even she could have imagined in her wildest pre-show jitters.

Her Monday Musings Instagram account had blown up after the show. Memes abounded, most of them hurtful. And much to her surprise, people were taking sides. Team Doc vs Team Prince. Which of them was right? One influencer had done a video explaining the situation for those who’d missed the show.

Could Scott’s methods help a woman land the heart of a rake?

Or was Doc right, and his techniques were antiquated bullshit that would result only in some asshole getting away with his rakish ways while the woman lost her heart in the process of trying to fix him?

And that was truly what RAKEish boiled down to. Scott was portraying men who liked to play the field as the ultimate fixer-upper project. And by calling that type of men rakes he’d wrapped them up in a pretty bow, turning a fixer-upper of a shack into a fixer-upper of a castle.

She clenched her hands at the sheer ludicrousness of the whole column.

Two blocks from the campus of Columbia, her phone rang. “Hello.”

“Hi, Lux. This is Dr. Marshall. The interview committee would like to meet briefly with you this morning. We will send a grad assistant to cover your first class.”

Unease filled Lux’s stomach. “May I ask what the meeting is about? Have you chosen your candidate?” She’d made it through two rounds of interviews for a tenure-track position which had unexpectedly opened when the professor she’d been filling in for had decided to make his sabbatical permanent. It was a dream job that would allow Lux to stay in New York. She’d not been expecting to hear from the interview committee until after the board had met. Unless…

“It is about the position.” Dr. Marshall sounded even more stilted than normal. “But a decision has not yet been made.”

“I see.” Lux blew out a soft breath. According to her inside source, the committee had decided, and they were simply waiting for approval before telling Lux she was the chosen candidate.

“There are a few issues that need to be resolved,” Dr. Marshall said.

Issues? A psychologist’s word for problems. The committee must already know of this morning’s on-air cluster. Why else would they want to meet? In no Ivy League universe was it okay for a professor to talk about penises before breakfast.

She had been such an idiot for not sticking to her original topic of conversation for today’s show. One that had been completely overshadowed by the damn Prince of Manhattan’s call in.

“Are you still there?” Dr. Marshall asked. “Did we lose our connection?”

“I’m here.” Lux inhaled and exhaled deeply. “I’d be happy to meet with you. In fact, I’m almost to my office now.”

“Excellent,” Dr. Marshall said. “We’ll meet in the conference room.”

Fifteen minutes later, Lux sat in front of the interview committee, stress sweat perched on the tip of her nose waiting to fall.

“Lux, I’m afraid more information has come forward since we spoke on the phone,” Dr. Marshall said. “Which leaves us with bad news.”

“No foreplay or anything.” Lux laughed nervously. “Just straight to the crux of the meeting.”

Ms. Birdie, a community member—aka wealthy benefactor—on the committee, chuckled.

Everyone else around the table looked at Lux as if she’d just said foreplay.

Hell's fudging bells. She had. What was it with her and her mouth this morning? She’d already ridden the lack-of-sleep-excuse train once today. She couldn’t take it for another spin. “I’m so sorry. That was quite unprofessional.”

“After your show this morning,” Dr. Marshall said stodgily, “the legal department received notice from Frankie Peterson at Naked Runway that a lawsuit was seriously being considered against the university.”

Lux blinked. “On what grounds?”

“Your continued harassment of Scott Landshire and his column,” Dr. Marshall replied, pushing his glasses up his pencil-thin nose.

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