Page 147 of Teacher's Pet

I’m just getting started.

“Tell on you?” Jake smirks, his hands sliding onto my thighs, fingers pressing just enough to make a point. With a slow, deliberate pull, he tugs me closer, his touch searing through the thin fabric of my dress. “I’d much rather get to know you.”

“Go away, Noah,” I hiss, my voice cutting through the thick air between us. “We’re done talking.”

Noah opens his mouth, but before he can say a word, Jake snaps his fingers, a lazy flick of command that makes my stomach tighten. And just like that, Noah goes rigid. He doesn’t leave, doesn’t fight back, he just steps back a fraction, lookingferal, his fists clenched at his sides.

But this isn’t about him.

This isn’t about Jake, either.

I need to know more.

With stiff movements, Noah drops into a seat beside his drunken whore, who barely seems aware of the storm brewing around her. His gaze stays locked on Jake and me, his expression carved from ice, watching.

Waiting.

Jake doesn’t care. If anything, it fuels him.

“Where were we?” he murmurs, his fingers drawing slow circles against my skin.

“You were telling me about your work,” I purr, my lips curving in a playful grin. “Tell me, Jake… have you ever gotten your hands dirty?”

He tilts his head, considering me. “Depends,” he drawls, voice thick with amusement. “Do you want me to get my hands dirty, Ana?” His fingers tighten, his grip shifting slightly as his voice drops lower. “Do you really want to know what I do?”

Leaning in, I brush my lips just past his ear, my voice barely above a whisper.

“I want to know who my dear old teacher really is,” I breathe, my gaze flicking to Noah over Jake’s shoulder. “Then maybe… you get a reward.”

Jake chuckles, the sound deep and knowing, his hands drifting from my thighs to my waist, his touch featherlight.

“Let’s just say,” he murmurs, lips close enough that I can feel his breath on my neck, “your drink was paid for with blood… and a whole lot of fucking power.”

A chill slithers down my spine. My stomach lurches.

I force my face to stay still, my smile to remain intact, but beneath the surface, nausea twists through me like a vice.

“Whose blood?” I whisper, watching Noah’s jaw flex, his knuckles white against the bar.

Jake grins, tilting his head slightly.

“Whoever needed to stay quiet so my family could prevail.”

The words land like a blow.

My stomach churns, the tequila rising, thick and sour in my throat.

“Excuse me,” I mutter, my voice tight. “Nature calls.”

Sliding off the chair, I catch Noah’s gaze, holding it for a fraction of a second before my mask slips. My charming smile vanishes the moment I turn my back.

Noah wasn’trunningfrom his family.

He washiding.

And now, they’ve found him.

And they’ve foundme.

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