Page 133 of The Ruthless Note

My fingers tighten around the broom and I hold it up like a sword when Dutch steps into the classroom. “What the hell are you doing here?”

He stops, an eyebrow arched. He’s dressed in a button-down white shirt that clings to his muscles. Even from a distance, he commands the room and makes every nerve in my body stand to attention.

“I’m overseeing your work study from now on.” Dutch juts his chin at the broom. “Official orders.”

My heart picks up speed. “You’re lying.”

“Why would I be up at an hour like this if I didn’t have to, Brahms?” His eyes are colder than ice.

I step back instinctively. I’m a bundle of nerves and I hate that he can see how rattled he makes me, but I can’t control it. My body instinctively shifts to preservation mode.

If Dutch is here, it’s because he’s out for my blood.

Or worse—my pleasure.

And I don’t know which is more dangerous.

He moves further into the room, his eyes locked on me. Like his father, Dutch carries an air of chaos around him that cannot be hidden. But this morning, I sense a deeper viciousness bristling just beneath the surface.

Still keeping the broom between us, I step around the desk and give him a wide berth.

But Dutch doesn’t approach me. Instead, he runs his fingers over the windowsill overlooking the gardens.

When he pulls his hands away and rubs his fingers together, he purses his lips slightly. “You call this cleaning, Brahms?” He shakes his head. “That’s not going to work for me.”

I groan silently, already knowing what I’m in for.

For the next thirty minutes, Dutch kicks up his foot and watches me clean every nook and cranny of the classroom.

“You missed a spot,” he says, pointing to the floor.

I straighten and glare at him. “Did you take over my shifts just so you could torture me?”

“Why?” He tilts his head. “Aren’t you happy to see this face? Or would you like to set up a camera first?”

“What do you want? An apology?”

His lips curl up, a menacing smile.

Sunlight pours through the windows, highlighting his cold beauty.

Haughty.

Brutal.

Unforgiving.

There’s an impulse in my gut, urging me to walk over there and whack him with the broom stick until he’s black and blue. But not even bruises could mess up that gorgeous face.

“You must be made of pure evil if you’re willing to get upthisearly just to terrorize me, Dutch. Don’t you have hobbies? A life?”

Another smile flits over his face, but I’m not fooled. That grin is nothing but a flash of shiny scales on a snake.

“I see you doing a lot of talking and not enough cleaning, Brahms.” He plucks a rag from the cleaning cart and tosses it at me. It plops at my feet like a bird with clipped wings. “Get to it.”

Gone is the peace that I felt when I first arrived this morning. Anger rattles through my bloodstream, begging me to do something,anythingto tip the scales in my favor.

But Dutch has me trapped. I can’t screw with my scholarship and if he reallyisoverseeing my work study, then I don’t have a choice but to listen to him.

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