Page 12 of Bad Teacher

“I’m protected,” she said, thinking of the IUD she had installed after Trevor was born. “And I’m clean.”

He sighed. “I’m clean too.”

“Good. So there’s nothing to worry about,” she said, smoothing over her clothes. And lying through her teeth. But she’d discuss this little rendezvous with her friends later, and not with him.

“Listen, Violet, I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

But I did. She cleared her throat, and folded her arms. Of course he didn’t predict sex with her—she was probably too bland for his taste, and he’d acted on impulse. Crap, she’d acted on impulse too, but given the chance, she’d do it again—and he wouldn’t. It was clear as day. Regret washed over his expression. “You don’t have to talk about it. It’s done.”

“Yes, but I don’t want what happened to stand in the way of Marcelle’s learning,” he said, as if wanting to make his intentions obvious.

“It won’t. I’ll be there tomorrow,” she said. If she was going to pretend having sex with him meant nothing, why not start now? Wasn’t Marcelle’s fault that she’d had sex with Theo, and she enjoyed teaching the girl.

A flicker of gratitude sparked in his eyes. “Thank you.”

She nodded, then touched the back of her neck, her fingers drumming restlessly on her skin. “I’ll let you go now—see you tomorrow. When I go teach her, I mean.”

* * *

“I didn’t seeyou there, Theo,” said Alan Brooks, the manager of one of his restaurants. “Been here for long?”

Theo fixed his hat and focused on carefully cutting the vegetables to add to a juicy steak the sous-chef was preparing. When had been the last time he actually joined his people in the kitchen and got hands on? At first, spending time in the kitchen was essential—Celine had been a much better chef than he ever could be, but he enjoyed touching food.

Food made sense. Always.

He arranged a couple of dishes, then placed them on the counter. “I came a couple of hours ago, to check in,” he said.

After the prior evening, when he’d given in and taken Violet over her chair, he’d done every possible task to keep busy. He’d organized his paperwork, emailed his accountants, cleaned up his email inbox. Hell, he’d even rearranged some furniture in his bedroom in the wee hours of morning. Then, he’d dropped his daughter at school and took on a two-hour workout routine, which usually would make his muscles a lot more relaxed afterward.

Yet, sinful memories from Violet’s body, the way she felt in his arms, the wonderful scent of hers… intruded his mind when he least expected. She’d felt so right. A wave of apprehension rippled through him. She’d been good for sex, and so had he. What else could he offer her? She had baggage, and he wasn’t equipped to help her carry it—not when he himself had his own overstuffed emotional luggage.

With Celine, she had conquered him with her congenial personality and easy ways. She’d understood his upbringing, from bits and pieces he had let sift through his defenses, or talking to his sister over the phone. But she’d never demanded much from him that he wasn’t willing to give. Violet was the opposite.

She had been through hell and back, and wouldn’t accept less than what she deserved. He clenched the knife on his hand. Neither should she.

“Is everything okay?” Alan asked, leaning close.

“Why do you ask?”

“You usually come help when you need answers and you focus on the job at hand. This time, you seem absentminded.”

Theo waved him off. “I’m as sharp as a knife, Alan.”

Alan lifted the dish Theo just prepped, and didn’t need to point. The Brussel sprouts had not a tad but too much oil around them, and the carrots drowned in it. Even the house special sauce, a recipe from his home country, had not the same citrusy fragrance it usually did. The whole thing was a mess, and not ready to join the juicy piece of meat the sous-chef had finished.

He removed his hat and stepped back. Fuck. “A bit absentminded.”

Alan crossed his arms over his chest and made that long face with the snarky expression. “What’s her name?”

Her name? Mon Dieu, had he been so obvious? Theo shushed his manager and nudged his arm. “There’s no ‘her’.”

Alan narrowed his eyes, an amused smile forming on his face. A gay man in his fifties, Alan was far too astute to let anything slide. Especially when it came to relationships—after all, he’d been married for over twenty years.

A couple of employees raised their heads, attuned to their conversation. Theo ushered Alan to the back office, unwilling to let people make gossip out of his private life.

“Listen, I don’t want any jokes about this lady,” he said after he closed the door behind him. Multiple certifications and awards covered the textured walls. He glanced at the picture of Celine and Marcelle on the left, and drew in a breath.

Alan’s gaze followed his, like he guessed his thought. “You said there was no lady.”

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