Page 98 of Isabela

When my heart starts to pound, I swallow hard and remind myself that Gael is coming. I just have to keep my shit together and not have a panic attack.

“Miss Cohen, our university is fairly prestigious, wouldn’t you say?” Dean Hopkins asks as he moves to stand in front of his desk, crossing his arms. He doesn’t wait for my lips to open to figure out what to say before continuing. “We are not the type of establishment that welcomes women of the night and whores.”

“Excuse me?” I gasp. “I feel as if that’s really out of line?—”

“Don’t speak!” he roars, making me shriek in surprise. My breaths come out in pants, and I can see the telltale spots that tell me I’m on borrowed time. “A concerned student came to me, telling me she didn’t believe you could continue to pay your tuition, so you were whoring yourself to the professors. If it is such a stretch to be here, then you don’t belong here.”

“I’m doing nothing of the sort?—”

The dean slams his hand down on the desk, face reddening with anger.

“I didn’t want to believe it, which is why I asked for this meeting,” he snarls. “I figured I’d give you the benefit of the doubt, even though she said she heard you fornicating in the middle of the day with a professor.”

Paling, I swear all of the air feels as if it’s being pulled from my lungs. Fuck. Someone not only heard Gael and I, but also told the dean? I don’t know if I want to die from embarrassment or wish the floor will open up and swallow me alive.

I am not a whore. I want to scream these words at him, but he picks up some glossy photos from his desk and thrusts it at me. Taking them from him with trembling hands, I look down and see myself draped over Gael’s legs as he fucks me at the club.

The look of ecstasy on my face makes me feel ill. Someone took photos of a private moment and made them look dirty. This club was supposed to be safe for us to just be ourselves.

This experience was never supposed to see the light of day.

“I am not a whore,” I bite out again. “I don’t know how you got these photos, but I’m sure the channels were illegal.”

“You can use all the pretty words you wish to use to make this seem as if these aren’t the actions of a wanton and immoral woman, but the truth is you don’t deserve to get an education here,” Dean Hopkins says. “You can be a common street whore somewhere else, and I will deal with Dr. Murphy myself.”

“Fredrick, open this door right this instant,” Gael roars. My eyes flutter in relief, tears starting to prick behind my lids as I take a shuddering breath. I don’t know how to deal with this right now.

“This doesn’t concern you,” Dean Hopkins says. His face is still so red, if I cared I would worry about his blood pressure. “I need to purge your little whore from the school, Dr. Murphy. This is inappropriate behavior. Do you really want to lose your position here over her?”

Gael kicks the door open, and I don’t even care how much of a cave man he’s being. Gasping in a breath, I continue to stare at the photo in my hand. I feel so violated.

“Miss Cohen is Aria’s and my girlfriend,” Gael growls. “There are laws protecting my right to have whatever type of relationship I want, as long as she isn’t my student. Isabela hasn’t been in my class since last semester. Now what is this really about?”

“She’s your what?” Dean Hopkins looks as if someone hit him in the face.

Gael stalks forward, taking the photos from my quickly deadening fingers. His other hand slides under my hair, his warmth helping me take a breath. This man is safe, the calm in the middle of a raging storm, even when he is the gale.

“Isabela is in a relationship with me. Are you such a bigot that you can’t have an open mind in this century?” Gael asks. “These photos were taken without our permission, and you currently have porn in your office of a student, professor, and his wife. I think you’ve been in this position for so long that the responsibility is ruining your mind.”

Breathing easier, I run with Gael’s words. “What kind of man thinks it’s okay to call a student at his university a whore?” I ask the dean. “Every word of vitriol was unfounded and derogatory.”

“Listen here, young lady,” Dean Hopkins begins. “Laurene Travers comes from a very prestigious family. She deserves the benefit of the doubt because of her ties to the community.”

Travers?

“Fredrick,” Gael sighs. “Laurene’s been stalking me for a while. I don’t know what she wants, but I believe she’s not well. I know her father and grandfather well, and they both are friends of Isabela. In fact…”

Gael pulls out his phone and starts a video call, making my heart thump harder. “He cannot see these photos,” I hiss.

God, it would be almost as bad if my parents were alive to see them.

“Of course not, Little One,” he says, leaning down to kiss my forehead. “Hello, Mr. Travers.”

“I assume you’re calling me in an official capacity, Dr. Murphy,” Theodore says in a gravelly voice. Hearing him makes the tears start to flow, and I sniffle, accidentally drawing his attention. “Who is crying? Isabela?”

“Hi?” I say, gasping for air as the tears fall faster.

“What on earth is happening? Someone had better speak quickly!” Theodore yells.

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