Ruthless In A Suit(42)

“You’ve been in my office more than any other student and now you’re going to tell me to let go? Emily, don’t be that girl.” He tightens his grip and then pushes his body up against mine, pinning me to the wall.

“Stop it, Brent,” I say, the panic in my voice rising.

His face is a tight, angry ball of madness like I’ve never seen. Squirrely little Brent is scaring the hell out of me.

I have the absurd thought that maybe I’m misreading him. And he’s my T.A.—I could get in trouble or at the very least, he can make my life in class hell.

But his grip is not loosening and the more I struggle the tighter he holds and the more frightened I become. Tears are forming in my eyes because shit I can’t believe this is happening.

I have to get away from him. Why won’t he stop?

“Let go of her,” a deep, ferociously growling voice commands. I look over and see Jackson, looking as tightly wound as a ship’s knot, his hands balled into fists at his side, his eyes blazing anger at Brent. “Don’t make me say it again.”

Brent steps back slowly, but the look on his face says that he’s nervous. He was not expecting Jackson Croft to appear. “Hey, man. We were having a moment here, if you don’t mind.”

“I do mind,” Jackson says, keeping his eyes level on Brent. “And I told you to step away from her. Now.”

Brent’s eyes dart from me to Jackson. He straightens his back and says, “Look. Everything’s fine. Why don’t you go back inside and enjoy the lunch?”

With long, stalking strides, Jackson moves toward Brent, who takes a couple of steps back, his palms up in front of him, bracing for impact. But Jackson doesn’t actually lay a finger on him. He leans in close to Brent and says, “If you ever touch or even bother Emily again, I will not think twice about breaking every single bone in that wormy little body of yours. Do we understand each other?”

Brent doesn’t move. The guy is drained of color and totally paralyzed by fear.

Jackson shakes his head slightly, then speaks again. “Tell me you understand or there’s going to be a real problem.”

“I…I understand,” Brent stutters.

“Good. Now get the hell out of my sight.”

Brent immediately starts walking, looking as if his buttocks are clenched, half waddling, half speed-walking down the hall. He shoots one nervous glance back at Jackson and then starts running.

Soon he’s gone.

I fall back against the wall and cover my face with my hands. Holy crap, what just happened?

“Emily,” Jackson says, his voice now soft. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

I shake my head no.

“It’s okay,” Jackson says. His hands lightly touch my shoulders.

“It’s not okay,” I say.

He drops his hands. “You’re right,” he says. “It’s not.”

“Goddamn it,” I say. My hands are shaking, my insides are boiling, and my brain is scrambled. “What the hell was that? I never even…why did he…”

“It’s not your fault,” he says. “And I’ll gladly go hunt him down right now and really take care of him, if you’d like.”

I shake my head and give a muted laugh. “I think you scared him enough,” I say. I try to gather myself by taking a deep breath. Finally I look up at him. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I was invited,” he says.

“What are you doing to me?” I clarify.

Jackson runs his hands through his hair—a move I’m already seeing as a tick he does when he’s thinking. He leans his shoulder against the wall next to me. My back is still against it and although he’s so close to me, I’m not looking at him directly.

“I mean, it’s fine,” I say. “We had one dinner and that was it. You’re not legally required to ever speak to me after that. But why did you have to show up here? Because I know you hate this stuff and if it really was important to your precious business then you would have sent someone more junior to do the whole photo op thing. So why?” I look over at him. “Why are you doing this?”

“Emily.” He says my name so softly. He drops his head against the wall. “I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Finally I do turn my head to look at him. I’m shocked he said these words. I’m even more shocked at the tone of his voice—so unlike him. So vulnerable. So real.

His eyes meet mine, and I’ve never seen such sweetness from a man looking at me. And it’s Jackson Croft, of all people. The serial business crusher. He moves his hand as if he’s going to touch me, but stops short. “I tried to forget, but it’s impossible. I finally realized I couldn’t stay away from you any longer. When I got the invitation, I used it as my chance to see you. I don’t know what you’ve done to me,” he says with a smile, “but it’s deep, and it’s bad.”