Professor Cline Revealed (The Professor #1) (17 page)

I opened the door to the classroom and my eyes focused on the man sitting behind the desk. It didn’t matter how many times I’d seen him, my body still flushed every time.

He was typing on his laptop when I walked up to the desk to sign my name. I tried not to be obvious as I glanced up at him as I wrote, but I couldn’t help it. He looked different. It could have been the pissed-off expression he wore as his fingers flew over the keyboard.

I stood there for a moment as I watched him. It was as if he didn’t even notice my presence, not that he should, but I felt a slight hint of disappointment. Women wanted to be noticed, especially by the guy they were sleeping with.

“Can I help you, Ms. Blake?” he asked in a stern tone.

My eyes focused on Mason’s expression. He looked at me with a furrowed brow, almost the same expression he’d had when he noticed me on Monday. I was dumbfounded.
What happened between then and now for him to act the way he is?
How can I find him attractive if he treats me like that?
I understood that in a classroom setting, we had to act as if we didn’t know each other intimately, but that didn’t mean he had to be an asshole.

I shook my head and turned away from his desk, then looked up to see Brian already in his seat staring down at me. I averted my eyes and made my way up the stairs, all the while trying to stop myself from looking back at Mason.

“Good morning,” Brian greeted as I set my things down and took a seat.

“Good morning.” I gave him a small smile.

I sat down and took my things from my bag when he started to speak.

“I just wanted to say I’m sorry about yesterday, okay?” I opened my laptop and turned to look at him. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I know you told me to pretend the conversation didn’t happen, but I wanted to at least apologize. I usually don’t blurt out things like that and this might actually be a little forward for me to say, but I think you’re beautiful and I’d hate to see you get hurt.”

I bit my lips together to try to hide my smile, but it didn’t work. “Thanks. And I’m sorry for being rude. You just kind of caught me off-guard, ya know?”

He nodded and looked down front, drawing my attention. Mason was looking up at us with an insidious expression.

“I’m thinking he’s not in a good mood again today,” Brian said as he leaned toward me.

“It would appear that way.” I shrugged and started reading over my case notes, or at least pretended to do so.

It was going to be another day of being unfocused, unless I let myself get lost in the case again. I wasn’t sure how I was ever going to get through the class with Mason teaching it.

“Let’s get started,” Mason stated. I looked up from my notes to see him perched against the front of his desk. “I want to hear your thoughts on the assignment I gave you.” He glanced around the room as he spoke, but then his eyes landed on me and stayed there. “Ms. Blake, you and Mr. Weller seemed to have partnered up. What have both of you come up with?”

A pang of anxiety washed over me as he called my name. Out of everyone in the room, he had to call on me first? I looked over at Brian then back down at Mason. It was as if my vocal cords had been taken from me, and the words I wanted to say weren’t coming out. My mind went completely blank as he stared at me, waiting for me to speak. Anger built in the pit of my stomach and I could feel my face flaming from embarrassment.

“We came up with multiple different conclusions, but-,” Brian started before Mason cut him off.

“I didn’t call upon you, Mr. Weller. Get ahold of your tongue or you can leave my classroom.”

My eyes widened in shock as I stared down at Mason. I’d said I wasn’t sure how I’d get through the class and it seemed Mason was going to make it as difficult as possible. Maybe I
should
see about switching out. I wanted to learn from the best, but the best was turning out to be a complete asshole.

Mason – Twelve years old

Pain.

It was all I ever felt. The ache in my chest never went away. I didn’t know how to go on without my mom. The images of that night played over and over in my mind. Nightmares plagued my sleep and there was nothing I could do about it.

My guidance counselor at school asked me if I needed sessions, but I’d declined. There was nothing she could do to help me. I just kept to myself. The only person I ever let in was Luke because we’d been friends for so long, and he was the only one I trusted.

I knew I shouldn’t still be haunted by that night. I should have been able to move on, but I couldn’t. I just wanted it to all disappear, but I didn’t know how to make that happen. Luke suggested I just focus on school. It was really the only thing I had to keep my mind occupied, anyway. I didn’t play sports and I wasn’t in any clubs, so studying was the only thing I had. And he was right; it
did
help take my mind off things, but it only worked for a certain amount of time. There was only so much I could study and there were hours in the day where I did nothing at all.

Those were the times I became a shell of myself. I was lonely and felt like I had no one, which was true. My cheerleader in life was gone.

John ceased to exist in my life, which was how I’d rather have it. The words he spoke that night still haunted me.

‘Mason took care of it for me.’
‘She wasn’t your mother anyway.’

I didn’t know how to process all of it. At the time, they were just words, but as the days went by I knew what he was saying. I’d started to wonder how long I would have had with her before he would have killed her or even me.

He was the bad guy in our situation, not me.

As for the comments he’d said about her not being my mother? I had no idea what he meant by that. She was my mom in every way possible. She was the one who took care of me, who tucked me in at night. She was the one who made sure my homework was done and I ate all of my dinner. As far as I was concerned, if I had to claim one of them wasn’t my true parent, it was John. He was never there for me. I never saw him.

I hated him.

I hated that I was his son. I hated life itself.

How could someone so sweet and good be taken from the Earth, leaving the cold-hearted bastards to run the world?

I sat up in bed and stared out the window. It was a sunny day, but I could feel the chill in the air as the temperature began to drop outside. Snow would fall soon. Just another season Mom wouldn’t be there to enjoy.

The dream I’d just woken from was still playing in my mind and I stared at the notebook on my side table, debating on whether or not I’d write it down. I’d learned that writing it out sometimes helped the memories to fade away, but that wasn’t always a guarantee.

The dream had built sadness and rage in my chest to the point where I just wanted to cry. I hated feeling that way. I hated waking up every day feeling nothing and everything all at the same time. I wished she were there so I wouldn’t have to continue hurting. There were times I wished I’d fallen down the stairs with her.

Death was better than the life I had. Better than being the son of John Cline.

Reaching for my side table drawer, I opened it and peered inside. Sitting all alone in the drawer was my switchblade. I’d debated so many times on using it, but never had the guts.

I clasped it into my hand, the metal and woodwork cold to the touch. I stared at it and pondered the significance it would bring to kill myself with a weapon John had given me. Maybe that was meant to be. Maybe he’d given it to me to tempt me. I didn’t necessarily think that was the reason, but it wouldn’t surprise me either way. Not with John.

Flipping the blade up, I brought it down to my wrist. I didn’t hesitate. There was no room for second-guessing myself. I either had to finish it or continue to live in my Hell. Those were my only choices

Pushing down on the blade, I ran it across my wrist. I hissed and bit my lip, holding back a cry of pain. I didn’t cut as deep as I’d intended, but as soon as I pulled the blade away, the pain diminished. I couldn’t explain it, but it felt freeing to make the choice all on my own.

I watched as the blood rivulets ran down my hand and between my fingers. The blood that gave me life.

John’s blood.

I just sat there staring, watching as the blood dripped from my hand onto the floor, and I could feel a tear run down my cheek. I knew she wouldn’t want that for me. I knew she’d want me to be strong, but it was just so hard.

Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath and looked down at my wrist. I knew the cut wasn’t deep enough to do any real damage, but the way it made me feel was something I wouldn’t be able to forget.

It was almost like an escape from my own mind. It felt good, and I immediately knew I’d do it again.

With all the pain, guilt, and loneliness inside, it was the one thing that made me feel alive, as though I finally had some kind of control over my life.

Nothing compared to that.

I’d just have to keep it hidden, which wouldn’t be hard since I had no one else in my life.

Mason

I shouldn’t have been so hard on Emma in class, but I just didn’t know how to handle my feelings for her. I’d never been in an intimate relationship. I distanced myself from ever getting that close, but she made me want to change that. She made me think about a different future, one that wasn’t filled with guilt, despair, and darkness. She made me see a glint of hope.
How do I change who I’ve become? How can I ever forget the past and move forward?
If she ever found out what kind of man I was, she would run. It was better if I pushed her away, but then I was pissed at myself for doing it.

I was confused. The internal battle wouldn’t go away, and it was taking over every part of my life. I was becoming too emotional. Something I wasn’t used to.

The urge to cut took over my senses just to ease the feelings coursing through my body, but the thought of her alone stopped it from happening. I stood there and stared at the worn metal, my hands shaking with the need to let it all out, but her face was all I could see. It fueled a rage inside me, not with her but at myself. I was so fucking messed-up in thinking I could change, possibly have a normal life. Nothing in my life would ever be normal. If she got too close to me I’d fuck up her life, too, and yet I still didn’t want to let her go.

~*~

The day I’d been dreading had finally arrived. I hated going to the fucking fundraisers, but I was expected to be there. John’s colleagues expected to see me, and so did the press, but not only them. The university expected me to be there, as well.

John was an important man in the city, so when he was out representing something, it was just assumed I would be there by his side.
I should say ‘fuck it’ and not attend, but I wouldn’t put it past him to put my job in jeopardy.
I knew he had a lot of connections, and I didn’t know how far they extended. I wasn’t willing to test it, at least not yet. If attending a few fundraisers throughout the year kept him out of my life, then I could deal with it.

I straightened my bowtie before Carlos opened my door, flashes blasting me as soon as I exited the car. That was one aspect I fucking hated, the attention I got from the press at the events. It was a cesspool of reporters, a bunch of assholes trying to get into my business.

Questions were thrown my way, but I ignored them and bypassed the red carpet entirely. I had no desire to put my face intentionally in the tabloids.

Walking up the steps into the Metropolitan Museum of Art, I passed a few people I’d met in the previous years, people with lots of money looking to schmooze it up with other snobby assholes. They were a bunch of arrogant fucks.

John used those kinds of events to network, which was actually smart of him on a disturbing level. All the political people he could ever need showed up, especially for an event against the abuse of women and children. There were a few each year that supported the rights of women, and John was a part of every single one of them.

Making my way into the museum, I headed to the gallery and straight for the bar. If I was going to stay there for a few hours, I needed something to help me through it.

“What can I get you?” the bartender asked.

“Three fingers of scotch. Dry.”

He tapped the bar and walked away to fix my drink as I turned to survey the room. The space was fully open with pillars all around, separating the different sections you could explore in the museum. It was the same location they’d had the event for the past two years.

The same people, the same drab location, the same bullshit every year. I’d need more than one drink to get through the night.

“Here you go, sir.”

I grabbed my drink, throwing it back in one swallow and closing my eyes as the burn took over my throat.

“Already chugging back the scotch, I see.”

I opened my eyes and lifted my hand toward the bartender, signaling for another round before I turned to see John.

“Gentlemen, I’d like you to meet my son, Mason,” John said as I faced him.

I looked toward the men he was referring to and held my hand out. I was always cordial even when I didn’t want to be.

“Pleasure to meet you,” I offered as I shook the first man’s hand. He was older, maybe in his late fifties.

“Calvin Stanley, and the pleasure is all mine. John speaks highly of you. I hear you are a law professor.”

“Yes, I teach criminal law at NYU,” I replied, smiling pleasantly. An act I’d perfected over the years.

“I know John’s proud,” he stated with a laugh as he slapped John on the shoulder, like they’d known each other for years. Then he turned toward the man standing beside him. “I’d like you to meet my son, Tim. He’s also with our accounting firm, Thomas & Stanley.”

Tim reached a hand out, shaking mine with a nod in introduction.

The night would be all about introductions and mindless chatter. All the men who were there to schmooze John would measure their dicks and try to out-please each other. I thought they should all just drop their pants and fuck each other because in the end, that was what was going to happen to them. They were all getting fucked and they didn’t realize how badly. Or, maybe they did. There was no telling with the men who associated themselves with the likes of John.

I noticed the woman standing next to Tim, looking me over.

“And who is this lovely woman?” I asked, using all the charm I could muster.

“Ah,” Calvin breathed as he looked toward her. “This is my assistant, Stacey.”

She reached a hand out with a seductive smile. “Pleasure to meet you.”

I grinned as I grabbed her hand, noticing the glare I was getting from Tim as I leaned down and kissed it.

This should be fun
.

“The pleasure is all mine.” I smiled and let go of her hand.

“So, Mason. Why teaching? Why not join the business with your father. Surely you’ve noticed all of his success,” Calvin questioned.

I hated pricks who tried to get into my business. It was the kind of question I was asked all the time, and it had gotten to the point where I was beginning to sound like a broken record and I wanted to start making up stories. Or at least stories they wouldn’t necessarily believe.

I looked away from Calvin and glanced at John who was watching me expectantly. He’d tried on many occasions to talk me into joining the firm. He knew it was wasted breath, but did it anyway. Often times I thought he did it for show, just so others would see he wanted me there when deep down it was the furthest thing from the truth. I was sure he knew if I worked there, I’d try to sabotage him in some way, which didn’t sound like such a bad idea.

“Your drink, sir.”

I turned to see another drink placed on the bar and picked it up, turning back toward Calvin.

“I’d always wanted to teach. Yes, John is a well-known attorney, but I want to teach my students to be better.”

I lifted the tumbler to my lips and took a drink of my scotch as I let my words sink in. John had heard me speak the same words on multiple occasions so it was nothing new to him.

Calvin looked to John with raised eyebrows. “Well then, sounds to me like all he’s doing is building gladiators to work for you one day, John,” he said, causing everyone to laugh except me.

“What’s so funny?”

I looked to the side of John and met chestnut eyes. I didn’t realize she was there, but I should have expected it. She was his fiancée, after all.

“Ah, sweetheart. You’ve been gone for a while.” He leaned over and kissed her cheek as she continued to stare at me.

“This place is so big. It took me a little while just to find the lady’s room,” she said with a smile, finally breaking eye contact to look at John.

He smiled back at her and gestured toward the others. “Calvin, Tim, Stacey, I’d like you to meet my fiancée, Rachel Simmons.”

They smiled and exchanged pleasantries as I chugged the rest of my scotch.

“Slow down, son, or you won’t be standing by the end of the night.” John chuckled.

I half-scoffed, half-laughed. “That’s the plan.” I placed the glass back on the bar and raised a hand to the bartender once again. Pretty soon he’d get the hint to keep refilling.

The men laughed and I glared at Rachel as she looked me over. It was rare we were ever in the same room together. We’d met a few years before at a dinner party John was throwing, and I’d had no idea who she was at the time. She’d made eyes with me the entire night and I could see the lust in them. I’d taken it upon myself to seek her out that night. It was what I did in situations I didn’t want to be in. I used the sex as an escape. She was a willing participant and I took advantage of it.

I’d trapped her in the hallway of John’s home and pushed her against the wall to see her reaction. I could tell instantly that she wanted me just by the moan that escaped her lips when her back hit the wall. She had no idea what she was getting herself into, but she willingly came with me when I dragged her into a spare room down the hall from the party John was throwing.

There was no kissing, no foreplay, only fucking.

I’d pushed her onto the bed and hiked her dress up, throwing my suit jacket over the top part of her body. I didn’t have a blindfold, so that was the best I could do in the situation.

Then I fucked her and she enjoyed every minute of it, as did I.

It wasn’t until a little while later when I was about to leave that John introduced me to her as his girlfriend. She was half his age, but I knew what type of woman she was. She was after the lifestyle, the money, and fame.

I never slept with the same woman twice, but just the idea of fucking John’s girlfriend gave me a sick taste of satisfaction. He fucked up my life, so I fucked something that was his. It was wrong on so many levels, but it gave me a sick sense of satisfaction that she wanted to come back for more. It just proved that dear old Dad wasn’t taking care of what was his.

A part of me suspected he knew about it and yet, he never said a word. Not even after he’d proposed. I actually didn’t think he minded sharing her, which was fucked-up, and yet I wasn’t surprised.

The men droned on about Calvin joining in John’s business, discussing some of the things they’d need to do to get paperwork finalized, but I knew exactly what they were talking about.

I could only think of one reason why John would want to use an outside accountant source when he had multiple under his roof already.

The bastard wasn’t as slick as he thought.

Turning toward the bar, I noticed my tumbler was filled and grabbed it. I was starting to feel the effects of the alcohol and it lessened my need to get the fuck out of there.

That was until I looked toward the entrance.

Fuck me.