Page 33 of Loving the Liar

My gaze crosses with the other student as she walks out, and I practically choke on oxygen.

It’s Megan.

Straight black hair to her shoulders, sharp eyebrows, she’s studying me like I’m part of the next case we have to write an essay on. Her long legs and slim figure make her look like a runway model, and when I walk past her, I realize I barely reach her head.

With my heart racing, Reeves closes the door behind him and invites me to sit. Once he’s behind his desk, he extends his arm, and I give him the essay.

“Why are you handing this to me fifteen minutes after your deadline when I’ve already given you an extension?”

“I-I was here,” I explain. “You were busy.”

“You weren’t here at 3 p.m. when my office closes.”

I already feel my hand going down to my thigh, even though I’m too distracted by anxiety to feel whether I’m scratching or not.

“I’m sorry,” I rasp. “My family has been going through a lot, and my brother came today to?—”

“Yes, I know. Your dad’s suicide. The bankruptcy.” How the hell does he know about the bankruptcy? “But I can’t be lenient with you forever, can I? That’s not how real life works.”

“No, of course,” I say numbly, feeling myself getting smaller in the chair. Maybe if my body keeps shrinking, I’ll disappear within the leather.

Reeves huffs, shaking his head as he stands up. He walks around his desk, but the purpose in his steps makes me freeze on the spot. Putting a hand on the arm of the chair, he brushes a blonde strand behind my ear, making my stomach contort painfully.

I stare ahead at my paper on his desk. If I don’t look at him, don’t move, don’t make a single noise, he might forget about me. If I don’t exist, nothing can happen to me.

“Ella.” No more Miss Baker. That barrier of protection is gone too. “Look at me.” His hand grips my chin, forcing me to look up at him. “I’m an understanding man. I empathize with your situation, but I need a little effort from you too. I need to see that you want to be in this class.”

His thumb starts caressing my lower lip, pulling it down slightly. My eyes catch his other hand going to his belt, and that’s when I notice the signet ring on his pinky. My dad had this exact same ring. It’s a golden ring with a mountain—or I guess it’s a mount since it’s supposed to represent Mount Olympus—engraved on it. My dad had lightning engraved on it too, but Reeves has nothing else. The Silent Circle bases a lot of its rituals around Greek mythology, and I have no doubt that this ring means Reeves is part of it.

It would make sense. He’s barely thirty. Too young to have obtained the reputation he has on his own. The firm, being a renowned professor, the elite clients. He had help. The kind the Circle can provide. And now I know why he’s so aware of what goes on with my family.

“Don’t freeze on me. You did the same thing last time, trying to disappear when everything around you becomes too real.”

I can’t move my head, held too tightly in his bruising grip. My eyes are my only escape, and stay down, stuck on his belt as he undoes it. I can’t hear his next question as my heart beats loudly in my ears. The ringing makes me dizzy, and I let the first words that come to my mind burst out of my mouth:

“Do you have a wife, Professor Reeves?”

He freezes, and I look up at his face to find him cocking an eyebrow at me. “Do you see a wedding ring, Miss Baker?”

He’s annoyed. He doesn’t feel so free to do whatever he wants now.

“No. But I do see the Silent Circle signet ring, and I’m assuming that to be a full member, you had to get married.”

When his eyes narrow, clearly trying to figure out where I’m going with this, a wave of strength comes over me.

“Aren’t Shadows only allowed to cheat on their wives with the Circle’s mistresses? Or I guess with people you all paid to attend my dad’s parties?” I ask sternly. “I seem to remember it’s so that no woman from outside the Circle has anything to blackmail you with. It would put a Shadow in a weak position. But please, correct me if I’m wrong.”

He releases my jaw in a violent gesture, pushing my head to the side so hard I can’t stop a pained cry from escaping. And this proves I’m right. The fucker has a wife; he just doesn’t wear a ring so he can seduce his students in peace.

I stand up quickly, grabbing my bag, and face him with whatever courage I have in me. “I am not an Aphrodite, Professor Reeves. You’d do well to remember that.”

He walks back behind his desk. “No.” Smiling at me, he picks up my paper. “Just a whore who doesn’t mind sleeping with her professor to stay in his class.”

He hands me the paper from across the desk. “You can leave this with my assistant. He’ll grade it. I won’t be giving you extra points this time. You’ll be keeping your spot—or not—based on your skills and intelligence.” He chuckles condescendingly. “So, I don’t expect to see you again after this week.”

I snatch the paper from him. “You should be ashamed of yourself.”

My jaw feels bruised as I walk out of the office, closing the door behind me, ready to give my essay back to Chris. But instead of finding him at his desk, Megan is sitting on his chair, typing on her phone.

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