Page 44 of Bound By My Father's Best Friend

Eyes rolling, I grabbed the box from his hands and glanced inside to see about a hundred floppy dildos just sitting casually inside it. I ran a hand over my face and set the box on my dining room table.

“Curse that woman,” I mumbled underneath my breath.

I tell her not to give me any more toys, and she sends a box of them.

“Anyway, perfect timing,” I hummed, walking over to the computer. “Can you look something over for me?”

“What is this?”

“Code.”

Steven arched a brow. “You sound like Michelle with that sarcastic answer.”

“Heather failed her last exam in one of her classes and wanted me to help her study. I gave her some instructions this morning to fix some code. And”—I looked down at it and ran it to see if the code succeeded—“it works.”

Steven chuckled. “Is that a bad thing?”

“No, but she said she failed her most recent exam on this stuff. I’m just confused.”

After setting his coat on the back of the chair, Steven sat down and pulled the laptop toward him, scrolling down the page and scanning the code. “Hector, this is Java, one of the harder languages to understand for students new to software engineering.”

“And?”

“And it looks like code written by someone with ten years of experience.”

My eyes widened. “Really?”

“It’s modular.” He looked up at me. “Did she search up the answer?”

“Not for this,” I said. “For her exam, she said that she had access to the internet.”

Steven pushed the laptop to the center of the table. “I don’t know what happened with her exam, but this code is better than the code that some software engineers that I’ve hired produced.”

“Interesting,” I hummed, drawing my tongue across my teeth.

Either Heather wasn’t great at taking exams or her professor had failed her on purpose.

While I had seen Heather under pressure before—and albeit she didn’t do well while stressed—I doubted that it was just a coincidence that she had flunked last year and was failing this year with the same professor.

And I was going to get to the bottom of it.

CHAPTERTWENTY-THREE

HEATHER

“Soooo,”Sierra said, kicking her legs back and forth underneath the table at Carnegie Coffee Company. She flipped through her textbook aimlessly, her gaze on me and her smirk contagious. “How was your night with Daddy’s BFF?”

“Good.”

“Just good?”

“Sorry. It was fucking fabulous,” I clarified. “But I feel like I totally fucked it up.”

“How?”

“After we had sex, I burst out crying.”

Sierra’s eyes widened. “Oh.”

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