Savage Heir by Jagger Cole
28
I goa week without a single instance of Ilya in my life.
Well, almost.
By day, I have nothing to do with him. I have no classes with him, I have no intention of going to a party at Lordship Manor, and I’m obviously done tutoring him. That’s the daylight hours. Those are the easy ones.
Nighttime is a whole lot harder. Or just outright impossible. Because at night, he is all I know.
Every freaking night, my dreams are nothing but endless replays of his hands and his mouth on me. It’s like a broken record playing on repeat. Every morning, and sometimes in the middle of the night, I wake gasping, panting, and wet.
But I refuse to let myself dwell on any of that, or to overthink it. The longer I go with Ilya out of my waking life, the sooner I can rid myself of even the dreams.
I startlemid-study session in my cottage living room when my airpods switch from Nathaniel Rateliff to the sound of my phone ringing. With a frown, I pull the pods out of my ear and answer the phone from a local number I don’t recognize.
“Hello?”
“Miss Chambers?” A crisply British, somewhat familiar man’s voice says.
“Speaking?”
“Miss Chambers, this is Dean Farnworth?”
My face pales. Dean Farnworth, as in the Dean of Oxford Hills Academy Dean Farnworth.
“I believe we’ve met.”
“Yes!” I blurt. “Yes, sir, of course. What can I do for you?”
“Term going well for you, Miss Chambers?”
“Uh, yes, it is, thank you. I’m really loving it here.”
“Ahh, well, we always love to hear that from prestigious students such as yourself.”
I can almost hear the “with fathers like yours” part.
“Listen, Miss Chambers, I’m sorry to call like this—”
“Oh, no, please,” I laugh nervously. “No trouble at all.”
“It’s about the tutoring program you’re enrolled in, you see.”
I stiffen. My lips purse.
That fucker.
I shake my head, anger starting to swell. I’ve just sort of assumed that Ilya wasn’t an asshole enough to go report me for us no longer doing our tutoring. Apparently, I assumed far too much.
“Sir—”
“Well, it’s been referred to our offices that you missed your last tutoring appointment?”
I glare at my class notes.
“Yes, sir,” I say with a frown. “I’ve just been so involved with my own work, and with all the things with my father, and Patrick’s father—”
“Ahh yes!” He chuckles. “Our White House couple!”
I roll my eyes. “Well, it’s just... It’s been a lot.”
“Of course, of course, Miss Chambers.” He clears his throat. “Though you must be aware that many of our students have big, world-stage things happening back home. Given who their families are.”
“Yes, of course, sir,” I croak. “I understand.” I take a breath. “I’ve been thinking about taking the dropped course mark for the program, as I am no longer able to—”
“Miss Chambers, before you say anything else, I feel that I must tell you about a recent change to our guidelines.”
My brow furrows. “Sorry, what change?”
“Well, we actually had a board meeting just two days ago where the issue of dropping student services programs was brought to the table by a concerned party. And I’m afraid the board and I have decided to alter the wording as it pertains to consequences of dropping the tutoring, or any student services, program.”
My heart sinks as a cold feeling creeps over me.
“I’m not sure I follow,” I say quietly.
“Yes, I’m afraid leaving a commitment to a student services program after a certain period of time has passed will no longer result in a ‘dropped’ mark. Now, it’ll be reflected as a fail.”
My jaw drops.
Holy shit.
“And that cutoff time is—”
“Last week.”
My face goes numb.
“Sir—”
“Now, I should add that the board decided to allot for one ’skip’ as it were, per term.” He chuckles. “So, you’re in the clear, Miss Chambers!”
“I…right, yes,” I mumble. My head feels like it’s spinning.
“So long as you continue to attend the tutoring sessions that you did sign up for, you’ll be just fine, with no failed classes on your record.”
I nod, dazed. “Right… okay…”
“It does look like your next tutoring session is—”
Today.
“Today,” I say icily.
“Indeed, Miss Chambers. Indeed.” He sighs. “I can assume after this courtesy call that you will not be leaving the program?”
Not unless I want to tank my future with a failed class at Oxford Hills during my final year.
“No, sir, I’d be more than happy to continue with the program.”
“Excellent!” He chuckles good-naturedly. “Well, lovely speaking with you Miss—”
“Who was the interested party?” I say icily.
“Pardon?”
“Sorry, sir. It’s just that you mentioned that this matter about the student services courses were brought to the board by an interested party?”
Dean Farnworth clears his throat awkwardly.
I’m goingto fucking kill him.
I storm across campus like a hurricane. I’m gritting my teeth, seeing red as I walk up to the front door of Lordship Manor and hammer on the door. When no answers, I just barge in and start stomping up the stairs towards Ilya’s room.
I’ve been cursing his name the whole walk over. But I’m about to rip him apart.
How fucking dare he?
I don’t knock. I just shoulder my way into his room with a snarl on my lips.
“You fucking sociopathic ass—”
I stutter to a stop. Blood rushes into my face as my heart stutters and then drops.
Ilya is not alone.
He’s shirtless, lounging back on one of his couches, with a joint between his lips. But my eyes quickly slide to narrow on the girl sitting on the couch across from him—the blonde with the short skirt and the top that hugs her gravity-defying tits. My jaw grits as I realize we’ve met before.
She’s the bitch who told Ilya I wanted to screw him that first day I came to tutor him.
“Um, knocking is a thing?” She sneers at me. I ignore her, turning my gaze back to Ilya.
He shrugs with a thin smile on his perfect lips.
“Knocking is a—”
“Are you fucking psychotic?!” I snap. “What did you, bribe the whole fucking board?!”
The blonde glances at him. “Yikes,” she says with a bored tone.
Yeah, not today, bitch.
“Get out,” I snap at her. “Now.”
Her brows arch. “Excuse me?”
“Get the fuck out. Ilya and I have a very specifically scheduled time for our tutoring session.” I smile thinly. “Wouldn’t want to start late, you know.” I turn my furious gaze to him. “Since it might ruin my entire future and all,” I say icily.
He just grins that thin wolf smile at me.
“Um, Ilya…”
“You should leave.”
The girl scowls. “Okay, well, are we going to hang out later—”
“Probably not,” he says, still looking right at me with a fierce, heated gaze.
The girl purses her lips. She sneers at me as she gets up, grabs her bag, and shoulders her way past me.
“You are un-fucking-believable,” I hiss dangerously.
“No, I’m a concerned member of the student body who just wants to make sure there aren’t any loopholes that allow those struggling with their academics to fall through the—”
“This is my life that you are fucking with!” I scream. “This is my future, Ilya!”
“You’re right, it is,” he says pointedly. His lips curl. “Shall we begin?”
I glare at him. “Fine.”
I storm over and sit on the couch across from him. I yank my books out and glare at him. “Well?”
“Well, what?”
I grit my teeth as my eyes roll. “Get your shit out, Ilya. You want me to tutor you? You want me here, wasting my fucking time for your amusement, because you’re a sick psychopath? Fine, I’m here. So let’s do this.”
He nods slowly at me as he leans back, lacing his hands behind his head.
“Are you curious about my night?” He smiles. “Or my guest?”
“No,” I hiss, heat surging through my veins. I’m barely hanging on. I’m barely keeping myself from exploding, because the idea of Ilya having had that girl here overnight makes me want to scream until my voice gives out.
“You don’t want the detail—”
“Fuck you, Ilya,” I hiss.
He shrugs. Something in me snaps.
“Did you bribe the entire fucking school board to change the rules on tutoring, just so you could get me back here, just so you could play parade that fucking girl in front of me?”
“And if I did?” He says coldly.
I see red.
“Mind games?!” I bellow. “You did all that for fucking mind games?!”
I stand abruptly, slamming the books down on the coffee table. Fury swirls around me like a black storm front.
“I do not play fucking mind games!” I scream.
Ilya frowns as the room goes silent.
“You know what?” I seethe, shaking my head at him. “Fuck this. I’m done.”
“No, you—”
“I am done, Ilya!” I roar. “Flunk out for all I care.”
His eyes narrow dangerously. “I won’t be the one with a fucking fail mark on my—”
“Ilya?”
My eyes burn into him, my jaw tight.
“Go to hell and stay the fuck out of my life.”
I turn and storm away, slamming the door behind me.
