Page 52 of Kismet

She smiles, setting a stack of papers in front of me. “Alright, Cash it is. You just finished your PhD, yes?”

“Yes, ma’am. In the spring.”

“That’s fantastic. Congratulations. That’s quite the accomplishment. If you want to start working on those, let me know if you have any questions.”

She gets to work on her computer, tap-tapping away, while I work my way through the dozens of hiring papers. They probably could’ve sent these to me electronically and had me complete this before now, but whatever. It takes me about twenty minutes before I sign the very last page, shoving them across the desk toward her.

“You’re quick, Cash. Thank you.” She thumbs through them, presumably making sure I got to everything. Once she seems pleased that I completed my task correctly, she paperclips them, setting them in a bin on the side of her desk. “Alright, let’s get on with the tour.”

“Sounds good, ma’am.”

She shows me all around the campus—where the cafeteria is, where my classroom will be, where supplies can be found. The tour takes about an hour—she’s chatty—and we head back toward the office.

“The dean should be in by now, and he’ll want to meet you. He just got back this morning, so he doesn’t even know about you yet. He’ll be excited. We’ve been wanting to fill this position since last semester, and you seem like the perfect one to do that.”

“Awesome. Look forward to meeting him,” I respond sincerely.

“If you just want to have a seat here, I’ll make sure he’s here, and then bring you back.” She points to the seat I was in this morning when I first arrived. She comes back not even two minutes later, a bright smile still on her face. “Okay, Dean Philips will see you now.”

My smile falters and my heart stops beating for half a second at that name. There’s obviously no relation tohim, but that name always makes me stop in my tracks, even five years later. Schooling my features, my smile returns, as I follow her to the office that’s directly next door to hers.

Upon entering, a spicy fragrance hits my nose, causing uncomfortable nostalgia to wash over me and bury itself in my gut. The dean is facing away from us in his chair, working on something in the area behind his desk, in front of the wide window.

I take a seat in the chair in front of him as Janet says, “Dean Philips, our new English professor is here for you, Mr. Marco.”

“Oh, it’s DeMarco, ma’am.”

“Oh.” She laughs. “My apologies, dear.”

As she’s finishing her sentence, the desk chair swings around, and my gaze collides with a pair of hazelnut brown eyes that have my throat plummeting to my stomach. It feels like the wind has been knocked right out of me.

No.It isn’t possible.No fucking way.

The utter shock I’m drowning in currently is mirrored on the face of the dean in front of me. His lips, that are full of empty promises and filthy lies, are parted in surprise, as his cold, heartless eyes stare at me wide-eyed.

Dean Philips—Dean Stone Philips—is stunned speechless as we take each other in. Janet is rambling about something that I can’t possibly listen to. Not above the blood whooshing in my ears and my heart pounding against my ribcage. Time stands fucking still as realization dawns on me.

How the fuck is the dean—my fucking boss—of my new job, Stone fucking Philips?How?!It’s been five goddamn years. Five years since he left without a single fucking word. Five years since he destroyed my heart and tore my soul from me. Five years without a single fucking word to let me know he’s alive and okay… and now here he is.

I don’t know how long we sit there, staring at one another, but Janet finally cuts through. “Uh, Dean?”

“Yes, Janet. I’m sorry. Thank you. I’ll take it from here. You can go.”

“Oh,” she says, standing up. “Very well. Cash, again, it was so nice to meet you, and I’m thrilled to have you here.” She leaves the room, shutting the door behind her, taking all my sanity with her.

When my gaze lands on Stone again, I swear I see regret or guilt flash through his eyes, but it’s gone before I can be sure. “Cash, I—”

“Don’t worry,teach. I didn’t know you were here. I didn’t follow you here. I had no fucking clue. If I did, I wouldn’t have come.”

He looks annoyingly good. Five years has done him kindly. His black hair is styled back, out of his face, and his facial hair is still thick and black. He’s wearing an impeccable navy-blue suit that’s more than likely tailored to fit his tall, chiseled body perfectly, and his tie is a rich maroon that somehow makes his brown eyes look sharper.

“Of course not,” he rasps. His voice both feeding my starving soul and ripping out my heart simultaneously. How can this man still have such a pull on me after all these years? “That’s not what I was going to say. I was going to say, I just got back to work. I had no idea you were coming.”

“So Janet said.”

His hands are clasped on top of his fancy ass desk. “When did you get in?”

“I got into town Saturday. Today’s my first day.”

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