Chapter 11

Dominic had appeared at the back door of the classroom.

He walked in without expression. Natasha recovered and stepped toward him, voice softening. "Mr. Kingsley—what are you doing here?"

He looked at her once. "Didn't you say you wanted to see me?"

She blinked. "How did you know I was here?"

He didn't answer her. He walked past her, came to stand beside me, and settled one arm loosely around my shoulders.

"Who were you threatening?"

He was backing me up.

Natasha's face went through something complicated—disbelief, then fury, then something close to panic. Her words came out scrambled. "You two—how did you—so she's the new one? You—Vivian, you stole him from me. How could you—"

"I don't owe you an explanation."

She wanted to come at me, but with Dominic standing there, she had nowhere to go. The energy collapsed inward.

"Mr. Kingsley, she deceived you. She's married."

He didn't blink. "I'm aware."

He walked with me to the door, then stopped and turned back.

"Take a medical leave for the next few days. Then find a reason to withdraw. Don't come back."

He let the weight of it land. "You know what happens if you don't handle this properly."

Dominic had come to take me to dinner.

"Thank you. For stepping in."

If he hadn't shown up, I would have given in to Natasha. Gone along with whatever she wanted.

I hadn't wanted to. I would rather have looked like I was in something improper with Dominic than back down to her threats. So his being there—that meant everything.

He was still unhurried. Unbothered.

"It's the least I could do. If I hadn't cut things off the way I did on my end, she wouldn't have cornered Elliot into this mess."

I laughed despite myself.

A week later, Natasha had completed her withdrawal.

She came to find me in person. A different person.

She asked me not to expose her to Elliot—not to tell him about her history with Dominic. In return, she promised to keep her mouth shut about me and Dominic.

"Your private life is none of my business. And I don't need you covering for me."

"Vivian—what happened between us before was a misunderstanding. Now that you have Mr. Kingsley, there's no conflict between us. Even if you can't stand me—you'll still get divorced, won't you? For his sake?"

She looked at me, hopeful. When I didn't answer, her eyes began to fill.

"I know I wronged you. But I genuinely care about Elliot. I lied about who I was—but my feelings were real. I gave up a man like Dominic for him. You don't know how much that cost me. I put everything I had into keeping my promises to him—including every cent of the settlement Dominic gave me..."

Natasha left.

After her withdrawal, the students started whispering—apparently she'd been performing wealth the entire time, the villa was rented, the designer bag was a fake.

Even the department head joined the speculation, asking what connection this girl had to us.

I waved it off. "Just a friend's niece. We weren't close."

"She was quite pretty," the department head said absently. "I assumed she was a relative of yours—you two both—" She stopped herself. "Anyway."

I felt like I'd surfaced from something.

Then the department head said, almost in passing: "How do you know the CEO of Kingsley Group?"

I looked at her blankly. "Who?"

"Dominic Kingsley—he said you introduced him to the department. He's personally donating the naming rights for three academic buildings. The dedication ceremony is in a few days. He'd like you there."

"...What?"

What was he thinking.

At the ceremony, I was called to the stage to present the official thank-you. Dominic accepted the flowers, shook my hand, pulled me into a brief side-hug. Everything about him was composed and official—except the cologne, which was completely inappropriate for the occasion.

The deputy dean happened to have mild hay fever, couldn't suppress a sneeze, and then felt obliged to compliment Dominic on being "very modern." I almost lost control of my expression.

The administration was giving speeches at the podium.

Dominic and I were seated next to each other below, and I leaned in. "Why did you donate the buildings?"

He leaned down too, voice low enough not to carry. "They said they'd put my name on the doors. Everyone who comes through—students, faculty—they'd see it every day. I wanted you to see it."

I was quiet for a moment.

"Seeing your name makes me eat better?"

"No."

He glanced around like a man doing something he shouldn't be, then leaned close. "It's so you remember to get divorced."

"..."