Page 134 of Wicked Ends
Heat scorched my cheeks. I couldn’t let the news about my identity being discovered distract me from my purpose, which was clearing Marcus’ name. “It’s me. It’s my fault. I was inappropriate. I acted unbecoming to my position.”
“Bullshit.” Marcus’ mocking tone cut through the tension in the room.
Eastwood turned to him. “Excuse me?”
“I called bullshit. Those photographs were Photoshop creations I cooked up, because I asked her out and she turned me down. If you’re going to blame anyone, blame me.”
I stared at him, horrified by his words.
“Mr. Bailey, if that’s true, it could have serious consequences for you.”
“It’s not true!” I protested.
But Marcus simply nodded. “I’m aware, but I can’t have the good professor here fall on her sword for me. It wouldn’t be right. She turned me down, like she should have, and I decided to get some petty revenge. She should go. You can tell me my punishment once she’s gone.”
“No!” I pushed my chair back. “This is all lies.”
The dean frowned between us. “I don’t know what’s going on here, but if Mr. Bailey is taking responsibility, I don’t see why you’d interfere, Professor Spencer.”
“Because it’s not right?—”
“So, you’re saying you took those photos and uploaded them to my presentation yourself?” Marcus turned his hard voice on me.
I stared at him, and he stared right back. He didn’t flinch.
“Well, no, I didn’t, but?—”
“Then it’s on me, isn’t it?” He jerked his head toward the door. “You can go, Professor.”
“This isn’t right,” I muttered as I stood frozen in place.
The dean frowned at me. “Did you take those photos?”
“No.”
“Did you upload them for the class to see?”
I shook my head helplessly.
“Then I think Mr. Bailey is right, and you should leave. I can assure you he’ll be punished for what he’s done, starting with being benched in upcoming games.”
“You can’t bench him, he’s just getting back on the coach’s good side after all the trouble there’s been,” I argued.
A hand closed around my wrist. I leaned over the desk toward Eastwood, wishing I could shake some sense into him.
“It’s okay, Professor. I’ve got it from here.” Marcus’ thumb rubbed a circle against my pulse point, and that simple touch weakened my knees.
God, I missed him.
I stepped back, and he dropped my wrist.
“This is all a mistake,” I said stiffly.
Marcus shrugged and turned his attention to Eastwood.
I left, dismissed and ignored. Damn that idiot. He was going to mess up his chances with the Hellions once and for all, for what? My reputation? I didn’t give a damn about it, or this job. He’d already given me the only gift I’d ever wanted… my freedom.
I stormed out of the office and into the hall, then sank down in a seat right outside. After a few minutes, Marcus emerged.
