Page 17 of Forbidden Professor

She beams as she says it, looking like a frigging sociopath. Carter crumples the note again, glaring at both of us.

“Next time, I will read it out loud. No matter what the subject is,” he tells us sternly. Then he checks his watch and sighs. “That’s it for today, people. Please read chapters two and three inCell Biologybefore you come to the next class.”

He turns and trots back down the steps to his desk, where he stands shuffling papers for the next few minutes. I don’t exactly stick around to see what else he might have to say… As soon as I can stuff all my books in my tote bag, I practically run up the stairs and out the door of the classroom, avoiding Carter’s eye the whole way.

As if my father knows that I’ve just gotten out of class, my phone starts ringing, playing The Ride of the Valkyries at top volume. It makes me jump out of my skin a little because I know who that is.

Racing to answer, I pick up the phone. My heart beats in my ears. I don’t even bother to look at the screen.

“Hello, Daddy,” I greet him.

“Geneviève,” he answers. “Are you in class?”

My dad doesn’t ask this to find out if I’m ready to talk. He asks because he wants to hear that I am actually attending class… even though in all the years I lived with him, I never skipped class for anything short of dire illness.

“Just got through with class,” I answer simply. “My Cell Biology class is progressing nicely.”

That’s a lie if I’ve ever told one. It’s the opposite, truth be told.

He makes a doubtful noise. “I see. And your schedule? Did you get up at five as I recommended? I would think that you would be up early to go for a run, Geneviève. It’s important to maintain your health and your body weight. Isn’t that usually the way you conduct yourself?”

I grit my teeth. “Not quite. I’m still adjusting to being on West Coast time.”

“There is no reason to take that tone with me, young lady. You are supposed to be the master of your body. Time zones shouldn’t matter.”

I hesitate. “Yes, sir.”

He settles into his stride, beginning to rant. “You are only at the University of Washington because of my benevolence, Geneviève. Without me, you would just be a nobody with no money and no influence. I doubt that the university would have even looked at your application.”

“Yes, sir.” That isn’t true. I definitely applied to U of W and got accepted based on my perfect transcripts from undergrad. But telling my father that will count as arguing. And arguing will only make this conversation go on for longer.

“Ask your worthless brother about what it is like to be outside in the cold while the rest of us feast in the warmth,” my dad warns. I roll my eyes but hold my tongue. “And don’t you go thinking that just because I let you live out there that you’re not still required to follow the rules I’ve laid down. No boys, no partying, nothing to distract you. You’ll fly back here and spend every school holiday here with me. And then when you’ve graduated, you are going to return to living here.”

I swallow. That sounds completely awful. But it’s important that my father thinks he’ll get his way, so I just answer the same as always.

“Yes, sir.” I put the phone between my ear and my shoulder as I start to get my keys out. I’m leaving the building and heading straight home to wallow in my embarrassment. Dad doesn’t need to hear that, though.

“I mean it, Geneviève. I already have my eye on several suitable men for you. So there is no point in leading anyone else on. You’ll marry someone from my law firm. That way I’ll always be in your life.” He growls on the phone. “Always. You hear me?”

“I understand, Daddy.” I turn a corner, the bridge coming up in my line of sight. I’ve never been quite so glad to see anything, especially not a hunk of metal and concrete.

There is a pause on his end. “It’s good to know, isn’t it? I will always take care of you.”

I readjust my tote bag on my shoulder, juggling my keys, and increase my pace. Sure, I probably look like a little insane to anyone watching me pass by. I’m practically speed walking. But I don’t care.

“It’s reassuring,” I murmur.

My father grunts. “I have to go. I have to actually earn something. We can’t all just ride other people’s coattails, you know.”

“I know. Thank you, Daddy.”

“I’ll call you in a few days. You’d better answer. You’d better be on a regular schedule. And you’d better have the name and phone number for someone I can get in contact with about your grades,” he grouses.

Repressing a sigh as I hit the bridge, I respond in the manner I was taught. “Yes, sir.”

“Don’t even think about disappointing me. Goodbye, Geneviève.”

I hang up, feeling shaky. Until today, I had thought that I’d managed to escape my dad’s close monitoring of my academic life. But no… like always, he insists on having his fingers in everything.

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