“If this is about Mo, please refrain.” I held up my hand.
Tex grinned, but his eyes flashed. Damn, I needed to watch my back with that guy. He was too smart by half, and it pissed me off that he let people believe otherwise. It even made me drop my guard around him, and, because of his past, I knew that was the last thing I should do, especially since I was boss now.
“Call your dad.” I threw the phone back to Chase. “Tell him to throw De Lange a bone. I want to make a deal with them, a small deal. Give them some money and see if they use it for something.”
“Got it.” Chase sent off a quick text then groaned. “I freaking hate school.”
Rolling my eyes, I slapped him on the back. “And you think I like it?”
“Class losers.” Phoenix nodded to us from down the hall, “Let’s not be tardy…”
“Right.’ I snorted. “Because they could kick us out?”
“If only,” Tex agreed. “If only.”
My text alert went off on my cell phone. I was going to be late for class, and I’d very cheerfully told Professor Sanders that I’d take over his freshman poly-sci class.
It had been an asshole move. His mom had died, and I’d smiled — yup, freaking smiled — as I looked at the class list and saw Trace’s name. What better way to spy on the girl who didn’t belong than being her teacher? Damn, just thinking about bending her over a desk and — I shook my head. Not gonna happen. She was just another face, another girl.
Nothing special.
I stormed into the room and slammed the door. Most of the students were busy texting, flirting, going on with their lives like there wasn’t a Mafia war taking place in that very school — like their lives weren’t being protected every damn day because I made it so.
Irritated, I rolled my eyes and searched for Trace. The minute our gazes met, she averted hers and looked down at her desk. Red stained her cheeks. I grinned. Hell was coming for me, but wouldn’t it be so nice to take a ride with her on the way there?
“You all know me, and if you don’t, well then, ask someone next to you because I’m not repeating my name. Professor Sanders had a death in the family, and because I’m doing a business internship for him, he asked me to fill in. Many of you are seniors who have put off this class until the last year here. Welcome to Freshman Politics 101. This class is going to suck, it’s hard as hell, and if you don’t get a B, you basically flunk. But…”
I stepped around the desk and leaned against it, letting my words hang in the air as the class zeroed in. I had their focus, but not Trace’s. She seemed hell-bent on not making any sort of contact with my face. My shoes, she was staring at my shoes.
“If you listen, do your homework, and keep your head out of your ass long enough to pay attention, you may just learn something.”
Trace’s eyes met mine — finally. And she smiled.
That was all it took for my hands to grip the desk so hard I was afraid I’d made permanent marks. Her damn smile.
“Trace,” I barked out her name, a predatory smile forming across my lips at the way she straightened her skirt and stood next to her desk as was custom. At least Mo had told her to do that much.”
“Yes?”
“Name all the presidents of the United States. You have three minutes.”
The little girl smirked at me and started firing them off in rapid succession while the rest of the bright minds in the room gawked like she’d just solved world hunger wearing nothing but her underwear.
Wow! Bad, horrible thing to think about while trying to look authoritative. Trace’s voice echoed around the class, until finally she finished.
She sat down as I purposefully made my way toward her desk, impressed she’d done it, but even more impressed that she’d done it so fast. The sound of my boots hitting the floor was the only echo in the room.
Trace’s lips trembled as she lifted her eyes to meet mine.
I smiled.
I hadn’t planned on smiling, or even walking by her desk. I’d planned on making fun of her, but I couldn’t do it. I, Nixon Abandonato, chickened out, and instead said something so horribly stupid that I wanted to ram my face into the nearest wall. “Nice boots.”
The class started whispering among themselves as I made my way back to the front of the class and crossed my arms over my chest. “First person who does exactly what New Girl just did earns an A for the day.”
Hands shot up around the room. I called on several students over the course of the next hour — each of them tried and failed. Most of them messed up once they got past Hoover.
I dismissed class after giving them the homework that Professor Sanders had assigned and watched as students shuffled by. Trace tried to duck behind another student when I said loudly, “Are those Win’s?”