She's Too Young(13)

While the man begins his inevitable sputtering over my recognizable name, I watch Veda as she flits around the room, spinning around in the sunlight streaming in through the classroom windows. How can I be angry at someone who looks like a fragile fairy? I am, though. Or maybe angry isn’t the right word. Helpless. Anxious. An unacceptable state. I’ve been gripped by this possessiveness since she approached me on the ledge and it won’t let me go. I don’t want to be free, anyway. I just want to lose myself in it. In her. Every time she exploits my weakness—her—the impulse only glows hotter, like coals on a fire.

Veda…she fascinates people. Men. Always has.

The memory of Jack’s words isn’t welcome. My inner coals are already bright red with jealousy. Now I’m growing impatient with the imbecile professor as he roots through paperwork looking for something that gives me permission to take Mr. Rose’s place at the meeting. We both know it’s not there and I resent valuable minutes being wasted. “Please begin, Mr. Talvert. I only have a small window of time.”

Red splotches appear on his cheeks, but he sits across from me at his desk, casting a look rife with longing at a dancing Veda. “It’s not usual for the student to be present…a-and you’re not even her parent—”

“Veda is living with me in Mr. Rose’s absence.” Satisfaction snakes into my middle when his fidgeting movements still, his lips parting on a winded exhale. “And she stays. Begin,” I say, more firmly. “I’d hate to be denied the chance to further a student’s academic mind, especially after making such a sizable donation this morning to the school, in an effort to do just that for thousands of them.”

A cloud passes over the sun outside as tension infiltrates the classroom. In my periphery, I watch Veda cease her spinning, her blonde halo of hair floating down from above. Her scrutiny glides over my skin like a gloved hand, but I don’t break Talvert’s stare to look back, though I ache to get an eyeful. When she takes a seat to my right seconds later, it takes an effort to hide my shock.

“Very well,” Talvert croaks, splitting a harried glance between Veda and me. “Veda is…excelling in all areas of study. Apart from requiring some extra help in Advanced Calculus, she’s done incredibly well. Her SAT score has courted the interest of several universities, to whom I’ve written detailed recommendation letters.”

His smile is that of a lovesick puppy and my hands fist when Veda returns it in that dreamy, indulgent way, blue eyes sparkling. Sickening jealousy and the undeniable desire to put a claim on her has me reaching over to settle a hand on her knee. “I’m not surprised to hear she’s doing so well.” I let my touch slide higher, just an inch. Two inches. “She gets a lot of…extra attention at home.”

Veda’s head whips around and the flash of excitement I catch in her expression isn’t lost on me. If possible, it only stokes my anger, because this loss of composure from me is what she wanted. A worthy adversary, is she? We’ll find out exactly how far she’s willing to tangle with me as soon as this damnable meeting ends.

“Is there anything else, Mr. Talvert?” I ask, my lips barely able to move.

His attention is glued to my hand where it rests dangerously high on Veda’s thigh. God help me, I can’t tell if I want to clean his clock or slide my hand beneath her skirt to touch what is mine and will never be his.

“N-no,” the professor responds, his face covered in splotches. “That will be all.”

Without hesitation, I take Veda by the hand and propel her from the classroom, a flood of sound making me temporarily deaf.





Chapter Six





Veda and I are the recipients of several curious looks as we leave the school, her hand held firmly in mine. I see them wondering where I’m taking her in the middle of the school day. They’re doing the math as well, trying to figure out my age and who that number could possibly make me to Veda.

I care about none of them. My sole focus is getting her into my waiting stretch limousine and making contact. That’s as far as I’ve gotten. I need contact. Not only with her body, but her eyes. I need to look into them and hear words from her mouth. Words I imagine will not appease my anger in any way, but I’m desperate for them nonetheless. I want to crush the strands of her hair in my fists and press her down. Somewhere. Anywhere.

My driver opens the door for us and Veda ducks inside, throwing herself down on a seat and crossing her arms, leveling so much outrage at me, I laugh. I laugh because nothing—nothing—can dim her appeal. I want her angry, whimsical, sad, or excited. There’s nothing she can do to push me away, but she’s trying, isn’t she? Trying like a little, hissing kitten.