Page 14 of Bad Daddy

I seal that promise with a sensual kiss, showing her just what she means to me with as few words as possible.

CHAPTER 10

Cece

“Ms. Brown, would you like to come up and finish the equation on the board?”

I hate algebra, and right now, I hate Mr. Thompson even more. I don’t know whether he’s doing this on purpose, but for the last week, he’s been calling on me nearly every day.

But when I go home at night…oh man, those are the best times of my life. Carter treats me like a queen, and I never have to wonder where I stand with him.

“Today, Ms. Brown.”

The teacher narrows his eyes at me. I think he’s waiting for me to refuse. Instead, I go up, grab the marker from him, and finish the equation with only a slight hiccup, but ultimately, I get it right.

“Done.” I place the marker on his desk and go back to my seat.

He turns around, arms crossed, visibly expecting to tell me I’m wrong. The thing is, I don’t like algebra or any kind of math, honestly, but I’m good at it.

“Very good,” he growls out before erasing my work and writing a new one to try to embarrass someone else with. I don’t think he likes teaching very much, which is sad because he should have a passion for helping others and not this animosity.

Watching him call up student after student, smirking when some get it wrong, my anger grows until I explode. “You’re an asshole,” I blurt out.

Time seems to stop as everyone freezes in place, including Dean, who stands at the board, looking overwhelmed with the problem before him.

“What did you just say?” Mr. Thompson snarls out, storming over to me. He uses his height and bulk to try to intimidate me.

Thanks to Carter, I’ve developed a newfound sense of confidence that has me standing up straighter and not backing down. “I said you’re an asshole. Marching us all up there, doing your damndest to humiliate anyone that doesn’t get the problem right. You. Are. An. Asshole.” I slow it down so he doesn’t miss a word.

He steps closer, our toes touching, but I don’t retreat. I should. Before Carter brought me home and showed me he’d do anything for me, I would have. But now, I realize this teacher, or any other, can’t touch me without facing Carter’s wrath.

“You can go to the office. You’re no longer welcome in my classroom.” I roll my eyes at his banishment.

“You shouldn’t be welcome in any teaching facility again. I’m going to do everything in my power to make it happen, too.” Snatching my bag, I leave the room to the sounds of the students clapping and cheering. I had no idea sticking up for myself would give me such a rush.

As I approach the glass-walled office, I notice the receptionist, Mrs. Clair, on the phone, and when our eyes meet, I know she’s talking to Thompson. The sympathy in her gaze tells me I have an ally in her, at least.

I sit in one of the chairs as she listens to him yell about my attitude and lack of respect, completely ignoring the wrongdoing on his part.

“You’re a new customer,” she says as she hangs up. “Some foul language was used?” I shrug. “Principal Garth will be out in a few minutes.”

I acknowledge her and then retrieve the book we’re reading in English to catch up on so I’m ready for the quiz on the first ten chapters next week. I’m halfway through chapter nine when Mr. Garth calls me to his office. He closes the door behind me and waits for me to sit before taking his own seat. I’m uncomfortable in his presence, and I’m unsure why until I notice his eyes roam across my body.

“So, Ms. Brown. It looks like you’re in a bit of trouble, I hear.”

I make a sound of agreement while shifting to conceal the fact I’m trying to hide my body from him. Crossing my legs, I hold my bag in my lap, which obstructs most of my chest. Despite that, I’m also wearing a loose sweater that covers everything, but he still attempts to look.

“Swearing at a teacher?” he speaks again. “Being rebellious in the classroom.” Standing, he comes around the desk and walks behind me before setting his hands on my shoulders. The way I tense doesn’t stop him as he leans down to speak into my ear. “What shall we do about your attitude?” His slimy hands shift to cup my shoulders and slip down to squeeze my biceps.

“Take your hands off of me,” I snap, yanking away from him.

He holds me tighter, and panic bubbles up my esophagus, but I push it down.

“Now, now, Cece, calm down.” He firmly places me back in my seat. “We need to figure out how to rectify this situation so you remain out of trouble.”

Slipping my hand discreetly inside my bag, I grab the small pen knife I keep on me. Flipping the switch to pop the blade, I bring my hand out while shielding it. I cringe when he pushes his face into my neck and inhales.

Without hesitation, I swing my arm back and stab him in the thigh. He howls in pain, releasing me and dropping to the ground. I take the opportunity to get up quickly.

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