Reckless Hearts: A Billionaire Romance (15 page)

He nodded, then dismissed me with a wave.

I left the lecture hall with another worry on my pile. If I let them continue adding up like this, I wouldn't be able to climb over them soon. Too soon.

S
NYUC President Peabody kept his office in the administrative building, which you had to pass on your way to the amphitheatre. A big, four story Art Deco monstrosity.

I'd only been in there twice before this. Once to straighten out my grant stuff, and again to meet Peabody for his congratulations on winning said grant.

The place smelled like an old library. Which wasn't surprising, given that many of the rooms I passed contained fancy, glass-faced bookcases that often went floor to ceiling.

Peabody's office was on the top floor. I took the stairs instead of the elevator, hoping that the effort of climbing them might help get rid of the nervous shakes and chills running through me.

His secretary sat behind a mahogany desk, one of those green-shaded accountant's laps on it shining light down onto her keyboard. "Allison Chambers?" When I nodded, she said, "Mr. Peabody will see you right away."

If the secretary's desk was large, Peabody's was enormous. Enough mahogany real estate to warrant a land deed. And quite spare. A tiffany lamp, an old-fashioned inkwell with what looked like an honest-to-God quill sticking out of it, and a small pad of paper.

No computer. Computers didn't belong in a space like this, which reminded me of an old-timey lawyer's study.

It also smelled of books, which I attributed to the bookcases flanking the window.

The man himself stood when I came in, reaching a hand out across that expanse of desk which I also had to stretch across to shake, our palms meeting near that tiffany lamp.

"Miss Chambers, won't you have a seat?" he said, pulling his hand from mine and then motioning towards the low-backed chair I stood next to.

I sat, letting my messenger bag lean against a chair leg. He sat as well.

"Is everything okay?" I said.

The light from the window kept catching on his scalp, pulling my eyes away from his.

"I was just about to ask you the same thing." He smiled at me, head tilted the barest amount. I knew that look. He considered me. For what?

"I'm sorry, I don't understand?"

"I had the registrar pull your transcript. Excellent work, I have to say. Especially given someone of your... background."

That got a reaction. My
background
? Did he mean someone from such a poor family? He did. I wanted to let him know what I thought about that, but I didn't.

I didn't because I got that same feeling as when I'd been at Owen's cottage. That feeling of standing on rotten ice, the slightest wrong movement apt to shatter the whole thing and send me down.

"Thanks," I said, almost choking on the word.

Peabody smiled as though to say,
Good girl
.

"Is there something wrong with my transcript?" I said, hazarding a guess at the reason for my summons.

"Nothing. Nothing at all. Not yet, at least." He held up a hand as though to silence my reply. I hadn't tried to make one. "I've received several disturbing reports. Disturbing, that is to say, for someone who managed to receive the Duvall Grant."

"I'm not sure I follow," I said. Some people experience an acute terror on a rollercoaster at that moment when the balance shifts and you go down that first steep incline. I didn't need a rollercoaster to experience it there, at the other side of Peabody's desk.

"There are certain standards we expect to be maintained by someone in your position. A certain level of excellence, you might say. I've spoken with several of your professors, and they all note the same thing. Distraction. Lack of participation in discussions. An overall decline in your performance, you might say."

He looked at me across the desk, waiting for a reply. I swallowed hard. The momentum of my inner rollercoaster shifted and I began the descent. "I've been a little distracted lately is all. I'll turn it around."

He acted as though I hadn't spoken. "I started this little investigation this morning when security decided to show me footage from early this morning. Quite early this morning, actually," he pressed his fingertips together into a steeple and gave me the most condescending smile in my tenure at SNYUC. "I hope that you aren't going to try and refute what I'm saying. I really do not like having to wheel one of those TV carts in here to show you. The cables are always so disorganized and unsightly. You aren't, are you?"

I hadn't been caught by the security patrols last night, but they didn't need to catch me. In my excitement to get out and see Owen, I hadn't thought at all about video surveillance.

And I was the one who decided to call him at three in the morning.
Stupid, stupid.

"I see you are familiar with what I'm speaking about. Good. As you know, we have rather strict rules of decorum here, as befitting an institution of this caliber.

"I know, Miss Chambers, I used to be young, too, believe it or not. You think rules can be bent or broken. Especially where certain, shall we say matters of the heart are concerned. I have to say, that fancy sports car must have been a fun ride."

This was unfamiliar territory for me. I may be a bit of a smart mouth, but until my outburst at the speech I had managed pretty successfully to keep it under control. Always mindful of how much trouble it could get me in.

Except for this time. This is what I got for letting my feelings and my desires get the best of me.

I blinked against the wetness in my eyes, forcing it away. "What happens now?"

"Ah, direct and to the point. The right question to ask, too. The answer depends upon your degree of cooperation."

"What do I need to do?" I said, leaning forward in my chair. Anything to stop this nightmare from unfolding any further.

"Oh, this is a first infraction, so the disciplinary measures are relatively light. Suspension of off-campus privileges for one month. Not so bad, is it?" He smiled like a doctor holding a large-gauge needle, the words
This won't hurt a bit
fresh from his lips.

"What else?" I said, sensing from his tone that there was more.

"It is only a little thing. Such a very tiny thing, I'm sure you'll laugh at how small, I'm certain of it." Yes of course it won't hurt. Not even a little. The slightest pinch is all, and then a lollipop.

"What?" I said, struggling to keep my tone under control.

He took his fancy quill pen from its inkwell, the tip poised over that fresh pad of paper. "The name of the other occupant of the sports car.
His
name, I believe I can venture to say. Apparently, our security camera in that back lot is not quite sharp enough to catch the license plate number at that distance. We'd like to pass the information on to the police so they can issue a trespassing charge."

"Are you serious?" I said.

"We are always serious here, Miss Chambers. The name, if you would be so accommodating?"

I wondered then about fault. I wanted to blame Owen, except I couldn't. Not entirely. I was the one who decided to open her mouth at the keynote, thus putting myself on both Peabody's radar and Owen's.

I was the one who called. I was the one on the recording. And to think, I doubt Peabody or anyone else would have recognized me from any other student if I hadn't incited the whole thing.

It could drive me crazy, trying to figure out where everything lay.

"Oh, does this amuse you?" Peabody said.

"No, not at all," I said, forcing my lips back down into a neutral expression. I couldn't help but find the whole thing funny though. I had to, or it would swallow me up.

"The name, then?"

"What if I don't give it to you?" I said, that note of defiance coming up again. That, and this strange desire to protect Owen.
Like I owe him anything
.

He laid the pen down on the paper. The pen looked heavy and expensive and totally lacking in the utility offered by your bog standard ballpoint.

"Well, that would count as a second infraction. That means academic probation, as well as a suspension of any financial aid past the current semester."

My insides turned into ice. I was surprised that when I breathed it wasn't a cloud of mist. "You can't do that."

"I can, actually." The glint in his eyes told me he was serious. And that he might also take some pleasure in doing so.

Again, that clash of my old dreams against the new ones. Ever since Owen came into my life it was choice after choice.

Even so, this sliver of my initial attraction to him remained. I didn't know how he could make me feel this way.

Of course, faced with the prospect of losing everything I'd worked so hard and long for left me pale and numb. They say that change is good, but I disagree. Change is terrifying.

"I take it that you are willing to cooperate?" Peabody said, taking his pen up.

"Owen. His name is Owen," I said, surprised at how difficult that was to say, and how it gave me a shot in the gut like I'd just betrayed someone.

Peabody's pen scratched against the pad of paper, leaving a looping, graceful longhand word behind. "Owen what?"

"I don't know."
See? You don't even know his last name! How serious can it be if you don't even know his last name?

Peabody sighed as though he expected as much. I thought he might even throw in an exasperated, patronizing shake of his shiny head but he restrained himself.

"You mean to tell me that you had a late night rendezvous with a young man, and please pardon me for that assumption but I believe it is correct, and you don't even know his family's name?"

"Yes, that's right," I said.

For once, someone's low estimation of my character helped instead of hurt.

"That is... disappointing. If you see this Owen again, please get that information from him and pass it along. Although seeing him again is not something I recommend."
I don't recommend it but I doubt you can control yourself, you mean
, I thought.

"Sure thing," I replied. My little interrogation winding down, I reached down for my messenger bag.

"And please let Owen know that he is forbidden from entering the campus again,"

I looked down at my bag and bit my cheek, forcing the grin away from my lips.
Oh, the irony!
"I will."

"And remember that you're on thin ice. Your funding requires you to maintain certain standards."

"I'm painfully aware of that, thanks. Speaking of that, I have a class coming up. Do you mind?"

"No, of course not. Please show yourself out." He didn't stand when I did, and when I left his office I got them impression that I remained in his thoughts about as long as a gossip headline at the convenience store checkout.

I went outside, the need to be alone overwhelming and immediate. Except it was between classes and even though the school didn't have many students it seemed every single one of them wandered around on the concrete paths between the buildings.

I went around to the back of the administration building and leaned against the brick facade, rubbing at my eyes with the heels of my palms while my breaths shuddered in and out of me.

It had to end. No matter what I thought I might feel for Owen, it had to end. We were poison to each other. Or at least he was to me.

I swallowed hard and looked out across the area. It was a back parking lot, like many of the buildings had. A couple BMW sedans and a solitary Jaguar occupied it. Beyond that, one of the campus's many rolling meadows cut by a road.

The breeze caught against the wall, whistling.

Why was I so upset? I wanted this, wanted rid of him. It should have been easy, but it wasn't. But the other half of me still wanted him. And I think it was the louder half.

And I couldn't deny or ignore the jolt of warmth in my stomach at the thought of seeing him again.

No one had ever messed with my mind the way he did. What was worse was that I liked it. I didn't want it to stop.

I
finished class for the day and went straight back to my dorm apartment. There, I slammed out most of my essay.

It was amazing what you could do if you focused all your emotions, if you honed them to a sharp edge and used them to cut through whatever obstacle tried blocking your way.

By the time I finished, I was pleased with myself.
This is right, this is good
, I thought. And it was a good paper. Solid arguments laid out in logical order, my findings irrefutable.

I am good at this. This is what I should be doing.

Yet it still seemed hollow. What did it matter if Keynesian economics was ultimately short-sighted and thus shouldn't be considered a viable economic system in today's climate
to me?
It didn't. No matter how many sources I backed my conclusions with.

No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't make it matter, either.

Then the phone rang. I jerked at the unexpected noise, stunned for a moment. Knowing I should stay in my seat and proofread, I stood and went over to the phone.

It rang twice more in the space between my standing and my reaching it.
Private caller
, the display listed.

Owen. It had to be Owen.

Don't answer. Let the machine take it and then delete the message.
I could go to the bathroom and turn on the vent fan so that I couldn't hear the message recording, either.

I could have done all those things, except I also couldn't deny the spark of excitement arcing up through my stomach at the thought of hearing his voice again.

So I answered.

"Hi," I said.

"I need to see you again. Same place, 45 minutes. And don't tell me you have class because I know you don't." Was that a touch of desire making his voice husky and a little ragged around the edges?
I hope so
, I thought before I could catch myself.

"Wait!" I said before he could hang up.

"Yes?"

"You've been... umm, how do I say this? You've been banned from the campus."