Page 50 of Detention with Daddies

Blowing air out vibrates her mouth before she stretches again. “That’s no fun without you here too. I suppose I should go home and clean myself up.”

I hum in agreement, even though I very much want to drag her into the shower with me.

Like she reads my mind, Olivia chuckles. “If I shower with you, I will make you late.”

“Did you want a cup of coffee before you go?”

A small shake of her head has my heart sinking a little. “Better not. I’ll get dressed and sneak out before Ivan catches us.”

“I don’t care if he sees you. Having you here is not something I want to hide.”

She turns in my grasp and blinks sleepily before laying a sweet kiss on me. “It’s more that I don’t have any answers to the questions he’s inevitably going to ask. Wish him luck with Chelsea today.”

My chest tightens. I know what I want from her, but I did spring all of this on her last night. It may be too soon to profess my feelings. To put that kind of pressure on her. Even if I want to.

“I will. Let me walk you to your car at least.”

She squints at me, but the look quickly turns playful. “I’ll allow it.”

We both laugh as she dresses and I put on a pair of sweats. I can hear Ivan in the shower, so she doesn’t have to sneak. WhenI lay another lingering kiss on her at her car door, I feel her loss already.

After watching her drive away, I get ready for work in record time, dropping Ivan off at school with his cupcakes and wishing him luck, like Olivia instructed me, before driving to the center.

When I arrive, the energy feels different. People are either too focused on me or looking away when I catch their gazes.

That doesn’t bode well.

The wordfavoritismis whispered a few times, and I’m frowning hard by the time I make it to my office.

A text pops up on my phone from Marie. She’s officially back next week, but she’s taken on light duties at home.So, there’s a rumor going around the center about you and one of the graduate students? Check your email.

Storm clouds fill my head as I boot up my computer and log in. A memo has gone around to the staff that highlights two pictures of my son and Olivia baking cupcakes in my home. Apparently, Ivan posted them yesterday, and they’ve made their rounds.

I swear my frown can’t get any deeper. Any more grim.

The email chain, which has purposefully left me out, has an ongoing conversation about favoritism in the office, about inappropriate relationships with employees and students, about Olivia being a slut, whoring herself out for special treatment.

My blood boils.

Olivia is not my student. She is not my employee. And there isnothingagainst the rules going on. We’re both adults who happen to spend our time in the center for work. I’m not in charge of her.

Am I able to help her if she needs it? Absolutely. Has she asked for any? Not even once.

My vision goes red. I’m not an angry person in general. Serious, maybe, but not angry.

Now though, I’m angry because when I scroll to the bottom to see who started this entire thing, I see the name I should have expected. Angelica.

I take a few deep breaths in an attempt to calm myself down when my phone rings.

I answer it, “Dr. Rivers.”

“Dr. Rivers, this is Malcolm Baxter. From the board.”

“Good morning, Mr. Baxter. What can I do for you?” My molten anger turns into ice, and I stand behind my desk.

“Well, whether the morning is good or not is up to perception. Isn’t it?” His haughty voice makes my hand curl into a fist.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Baxter?” I repeat, barely able to keep the growl from my voice. I don’t like the board. All they do is cut budgets and worry about their image. They have no idea what it takes to treat people. To actually help them.

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