“She is a crazy-ass ex,” Dominic corrected, looking at the floor. “No need to beat around the bush.”
Shaking my head, I brought the phone back to my face. “I don’t have your fucking sweater.”
Veronica was quiet for a moment. “Well, maybe I could come over and double-check.”
God, she was really trying it, wasn’t she?“There’s nothing to double-check.”
“I would really appreciate it if you let me do this,” she pressed.
“You’re more than welcome to ask Monty if it's in lost and found, but that’s all I can do for you,” I told her, voice hard. Monty was my former doorman. He was also the one to tell me the man in my bed was also a resident.
The annoying sound of her snobby scoff filled my ear once again, and I was seconds away from hanging up the phone.“Why would it be in lost and found when I last saw it in your apartment?”
“I no longer have an apartment there,” I pushed out. “Lost and found is your best bet. Call Monty.” As I pulled the phone away, she frantically called out my name. I bit down, my jaw popping. “What?” I barked.
“You—you don’t live in the Westchester anymore?” she asked, stumbling over her own disbelief.
I grinned, finally finding something I loved about Portland. It was nowhere near Veronica or her manipulations. “V, I don’t live in North Carolina. Hope you find your precious sweater.”
I gently put the phone back on the receiver and turned to the boys. “I’m done for the day.”
Dominic studied me. “We’re not going to have the debrief, are we?”
“Nope.”
Chapter Three
Margo
Two weeks later.
“No.”
“What do you mean no?” My question, laced with anxiety, filled the small space of my professor’s office as a chill slid down my spine.
Had I bombed the mid-term?
Why was she staring at me that way?
Was I not—did I not study enough?
Had I overlooked something in the last segment? Read the questions too quickly?
My mind began replaying that last two and a half hours in my head on a loop, trying to find the exact point I fucked up. I’d gotten to the exam room early—twenty minutes early, to be exact—I’d taken my seat in the fourth row, three spots away from the left, and reviewed my study notes one more time. As my eyes scanned over my scribbles, the room began filling with my classmates, most of them nearly a decade younger than me. I remember not being able to focus due to the pair behind me gossiping about somebody they’d fucked the night prior. Professor Ashley arrived just five minutes before the start time and instructed us to clear our desks. I did, and even made sure to have three number two pencils out instead of my usual two. Just in case.
I’d been ready for this exam, and during it, I was sure of my answers. There had been just ten minutes left when I finished, and I used that time to double-check all my answers.
But then Professor Ashley asked me to hang back until the room was cleared. I did. Then, as she had gathered up all the exams, she’d asked me to follow her to her office.
Which brought me to now.
In my lap, I twisted my hands, feeling a cold sweat coating my palms.
Professor Mandy Ashley was someone I’d come to idolize over the last few semesters. She was also somewhat of a legend at Albers Business School. She had a plaque in the main hall.She had been the first female professor here and had spent the majority of the early 2000s paving the way for countless women to enter the business realm. This was my third class with her, and honestly, I couldn’t complain. Her teaching style was brilliant, and I never felt lost during her lectures. Even her syllabus was astounding. I was contemplating framing the damn thing.
“Margo, you’re pale,” she noted, leaning forward to grab her teacup.
I tried swallowing the lump in my throat as my eyes tracked her every move. From the way her fingers cradled the bottom of the fine china to the way her lips pinched as she took a small sip and the way the steam from the hot liquid hit her nose.