Page 20 of Compelled Obedience

I stared at him for a full five seconds before responding.

“What are you doing here?” Okay, so my question was nastier than it should be.

“You invited me. Remember?”

Why did he need to show up now? Why?

Damn. Why did his voice drill into the bad girl side of me with its husky tone and the rasp that vibrated deep within? I took a deep breath and turned toward him.

“You didn’t think I’d come. Did you?” he asked, the slight smirk on his face far too attractive.

“Honestly, I didn’t think you had the balls or the integrity.”

“Whew. Did anyone tell you that you could use having your mouth washed out with soap?”

“Not anyone who wanted to live.”

Grant lifted a single eyebrow and even that subtle move was sexy. “Can we start over again, Ms. Bettington?”

I was forced to admit to myself that I’d been a little hard on him because I hated my life. Not the man. “Yes, we can.”

“I decided to take you up on your very kind offer,” Grant chided, the twinkle in his eyes remaining.

“I’m just so pleased you could take time out of your extremely busy schedule,” I snarked, turning around in a full circle with my arms extended. “So, here it is. The truth behind the veil you led everyone to believe you were helping to fix.”

He walked closer, his eyes partially hooded.

“You do realize I don’t dole out the funds or the instruments.”

“You’re like a perfect politician, always making excuses. Your face and name are leading the charge of the Rise to Vision Project. I would think a thorough man such as yourself would ensure the information received and the monies going out were accurate.”

“Ouch. Maybe I deserved that,” he admitted.

Another slight smirk curled on his lips, which annoyed me more than anything. “Come on, hotshot. Take a look around.” I moved toward the piano, running my finger along the deep scratch one of the more barbaric kids had done only a month before. “Here’s my favorite piece, the beloved piano that is constantly out of tune because of the condition of the aging wood, the sweltering heat a burden as well.” I threw a look over my shoulder to see if he was paying any attention, surprised that he kept the sexy smirk, his eyes trailing behind me.

He said nothing but walked forward as I headed toward the closet where the instruments were kept. “Notice there is a lock that I will engage before I leave today. Not that it matters. Students have broken in more times than I can count, stealing some of the ancient instruments for cash for drugs. And it wouldn’t matter if the door was made out of steel. The kids can break into anything.”

When he took a deep breath, I waited to see if he had the nerve to say anything.

Nope.

So I continued, trying not to lose my mind from the fact his aftershave was even spicier than he’d worn two nights before. “Here is the music we have to work with. It’s been around so long some of the pages are almost transparent. The books have fallen apart, pages missing. Anyway, I don’t know what happens to the money mentioned in the funding you donate to, but I honestly have no idea when this school has ever seen a dime.” I slammed the doors to the cabinet, snapping the lock in place then turning around to face him.

I was shocked he continued to remain quiet. Then I became irritated as hell. “What are you doing here? Did you bring members of the press with you? You know, a wonderful exposé on the fabulous philanthropist who managed to find time in his oh-so busy schedule to visit a downtrodden teacher in an underprivileged neighborhood. By the way, I should warn you not to walk the streets at night. It’s not safe, even for a big strapping guy like yourself.”

I was on a roll, unable to keep from tossing out barbs.

“Did anyone ever tell you that not only do you talk too much, but when you do you tend to get yourself into trouble?”

His words had a strange effect on me. I laughed, more out of nervousness than anything. “Yeah? Well, I have my reasons.”

“What I just heard a few minutes ago was amazing. The young man on the piano is a true artist.”

“He is. I want nothing more than for people to hear his talent. Even if only by having a single school concert. Just one. I don’t know if anyone would attend, but God, I would.”

“No school concerts?”

I laughed, still feeling nervous around him. When I brushed a strand of hair from my face, I was conscious that he was watching my every move. “None. I know Sanchez would thrive with decent attention.”

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