Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 57891 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 289(@200wpm)___ 232(@250wpm)___ 193(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57891 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 289(@200wpm)___ 232(@250wpm)___ 193(@300wpm)
I clear my throat, and the room stills with a deafening silence. They’re simply waiting for me to speak as I stand at the head of the table. The only movement comes from the swaying of a chair at the other end. The light from the windows casts a shadow down Brooklyn’s father’s considerable frame. His narrowed eyes nearly match the black of his suit.
I stare directly at them as I announce, “I’m aware that this meeting is due to the email sent this morning.”
“Professor Wolf,” Mr. Micheals declares, a man I’ve respected for as long as I can remember. Dominick Michaels has been an adviser at the university since before I was born. The old man was a mentor to me when I first applied.
I turn to him, heat gripping the back of my neck. I’ve known him for nearly two decades. The last thing I want is the expression of regret on his face and his tone of condolences.
“You understand why we have to do this, I’m sure,” he comments, and I shake my head in denial. His role at the university is the provost, and he’s never preferred the title Professor over the mundane. Mr. Michaels has seniority, so if I can win him over, there’s a chance in hell we can survive this.
“Unfortunately, the email and video sent are out of my control, but it’s not on the board to take action,” I state, and the lies at the back of my throat nearly make my voice tight. Nearly, but somehow I’m able to be firm in my response.
Mr. Michaels flinches back, surprised by my statement.
“I had no idea that I was being recorded in the private establishment I own.”
“Not just you.” The hard tone from Dean Chambers, Brooklyn’s father, is met with the slamming of his fist at the end of the table. “You weren’t the only one recorded,” he reaffirms with a menacing tone.
Quite honestly, I can’t blame the prick for his barely contained anger. After all, what I did to his daughter last night is something I’m sure no father would ever want to see. Especially his little girl.
“No, it wasn’t just me. You see…” I pause for a second, catching my bearings before I drop what can only be described as the biggest lie of my life. Standing my ground, I confess with more ease than I thought possible. “My fiancée was also filmed last night without her consent.”
Adrenaline soars through my veins as several men loudly gasp, and the lone woman on the board stares back at me with wide eyes of disbelief as she repeats, “Your fiancée?”
“Yes, of course. That’s the only reason I’d ever engage in that manner with a university student. I’m sure you can understand that she and I—”
“Bullshit!” her father roars at the end of the table. Huffing and puffing like a fucking lunatic. As his chest rises and falls, it dawns on him that the room is calm, that this is a far better resolution for the board and the university than filing anything or making any statements to the public.
With all eyes on him, he readjusts his tie and sits back, not daring to look at anyone else.
“Yes.” I spin back to Mrs. Sanders. “As you can imagine, my fiancée is mortified, as am I, that we were taken advantage of and that someone would violate our intimate privacy in that manner.”
I can barely breathe, my entire body on fire as I wait to see if it works. If they believe me. If they’ll allow this to slide and let it be. It’s truly best for all of them except for the one man at the end of the table, parallel to me, who’s probably contemplating my murder. If it weren’t for any witnesses, he more than likely would. I try not to relish in the feeling of knowing he hates me just as much as I hate him, and now I’m engaged to his only daughter.
In the end, I win.
“The board will do everything in our power to help identify this individual.” Mr. Michaels speaks up, breaking the tension in the room.
I remember the look on Brooklyn’s face this morning and the anger at whoever the fuck dared take advantage of her. With that thought in mind, I thank Mr. Michaels. She doesn’t deserve that shit.
I run a hand through my hair and thank the board for their discretion and understanding. All the while, glimpses of Brooklyn from that video and from real life last night as she writhed under me flash before my eyes.
Fuck.
My cock hardens at the thought.
It’s an odd sensation that comes over me… The desire to fucking murder whoever saw Brooklyn with me and recorded us while being grateful for not losing my job and the last decade of my career just barely being saved by this lie she planned for us.