Page 2 of Brat Baby (Sugar Life #1, #3)

Derek

This is Dylan all over again. The lies. The denial. But it’s worse. So much fucking worse.

Blood thunders through my veins as I surge up the few paved steps into the Department of Mathematics building, the gothic architecture, with its crisp green ivory, not bringing me the joy and sense of purpose it normally does.

A fucking student.

She is a fucking student at my fucking university.

The area is teeming with universities and colleges, so sure, it is possible she could have been a student.

And I do admit, there had been a niggling thought in the back of my head that her age puts her in the prime age range for higher education.

However, that would mean she lied on the goddamn contract that she signed less than twenty-four hours ago.

The lure of the enormous gift we proposed was a little too much for dear little Emery, it would seem.

Not asking her in person is on us. But Emery committing contractual fraud is another ballgame entirely.

As I storm through the pointed archway of the entry into the building, I can feel the presence of the others following me.

None of us have said a word, and the silence continues as we stride across the foyer toward the wooden switchback staircase, quickly ascending until we are on the second floor of the four-story building.

For the first time ever, I am irritated with the fact that I have the corner office that overlooks the university’s main quad.

As amazing as the room and its view is, the lack of proximity from the staircase is causing my blood pressure to increase, only deepening the hue of the thunderclouds that surround us.

My fury needs an outlet.

How could she do this to us?

Pangs of disappointment flood my chest as her hazel eyes flash in my mind.

She is everything we have ever looked for. Did we show our cards too soon? Did she pick up on how desperate we are to find someone for all of us? Did she think the clause in the six-month contract about being a student was just so we knew her occupation? Did she just skip that section?

How the fuck did we get here?

A door opens farther down the hall, and a group of laughing students step out in front of us. One of my PhD students sees me and starts to wave, but his arm barely even rises before he drops it to the side and urges his friends out of our path.

The way they scuttle to the side has my inner beast sneering, rattling at the cage door that I lock it behind when I’m out in the real world.

I fight a snarl at the notion that the ridiculous rumors that surround the four of us will only be reinforced by this one moment in front of these twenty-somethings.

Emery wouldn’t cower as we approached, even with this darkness surrounding us. She’d stand strong and raise her chin, not allowing any one of us to get beneath her skin. Her inner fire would blaze against ours, neither party caving to the other.

And fuck, that thought enrages me even more, because she is perfect for us. Absolute perfection. She isn’t afraid of us and the things we want. And she has the steel to stand up for herself when it really matters.

Is that why she did this? Because she isn’t scared? Is it all a game to her? Are we just toys for her to play with? To explore her sexual fantasies with? Is she not worried that all of us could lose everything? Her included?

Whatever her plans are for her future, if it’s discovered that she is having an illicit affair with not one, but four, of the teaching staff at her school, she’ll be expelled and will make acceptance into another university a difficult process.

Even if it all started before any of us knew of our professional link to her.

I reach into my pocket and withdraw a security pass, which doubles as the key to my office, from the pocket of my slacks. The panel turns green after only a second of the card resting against it, and I immediately shove into the office.

Light from the window that overlooks the quad streams across my cherry-oak desk in the middle of the room.

I bypass the couch that sits to the side of the door and stride past the table and chairs against the far wall that I use for student office hours.

As I hear the door snick shut after the others enter, I go to the coat and hat stand in the corner behind my desk where my leather satchel hangs.

The same satchel that holds the signed copy of the contract.

“What the fuck just happened?” Hudson asks, his voice slicing through the silence like a machete. “A student? She’s a student? How?”

The fury and pain in his voice causes a deep echo within me, and I have to clench my jaw against the wave of emotion. I riffle through the satchel until I find the correct folder and pull it free.

“She can’t be. The contract clearly states she had to tell us if she’s a student and what school she attends so that we could assess the situation,” Darcy replies as he flops into one of the cushioned leather accent chairs on the visitor side of my desk.

“We specifically have that section in there to avoid this exact situation. How could she ignore that section? I watched her read the contract, she read every single line.”

I take a seat in my own chair and open the folder as Hudson and Darcy continue discussing how we got here. Setting the Friday and weekend contracts to the side, as well as the reward chart, I go straight for the long-term contract, specifically the last section on the first page.

The most fucking important section.

My gaze scans down the paper: Dominants, submissive, exclusivity. Fridays to Sundays. Safe words. Aftercare. Club Obsession. Then—

Nothing.

I flip to the next page, and there is the list of sexual acts we’d like to do with her, but there is nothing about her status as a student. My throat tightens as I flip to the last page that has the term and gift for this contract and all our signatures.

I stare uncomprehendingly at Emery’s signature.

It’s right there, in black ink. Her signature on a contract that does not contain a section requiring her to state if she is a student and at what institution.

She didn’t lie. She didn’t commit contractual fraud. She was our perfect girl, just as we thought. This isn’t Emery’s fault. No. This is ours. We fucked up.

I think back to signing the contract yesterday.

The contract was waiting for me—all of us—on the coffee table, open to the signature page.

Xavier had already signed and dated it. I didn’t think anything of it and simply signed and dated it as well.

His signature was a sign to me that the contract was good to go.

My brain jams on that thought.

“No need. Already done.”

Those were Xavier’s words from yesterday when I had suggested asking Hudson and Darcy to bring a copy of the contract back with them.

Xavier supplied the contract. He printed it off. He had already signed it, giving it a level of authority—of surety—that everything was okay.

The jammed thought slowly works itself free.

I drag my gaze from the contract, across the polished finish of my desk, over the empty space to where Xavier leans against the wall, one shoulder pressed against the slate gray, ankles crossed.

His face is blank as he watches the other two, and it occurs to me—he hasn’t said a fucking word since we spotted Emery at the coffee shop.

I focus back on the contract. I’ve always known he doesn’t give two fucks about teaching. It’s had the feel of a backup option for him. Almost like this role was selected for him, not by him.

But why would he tamper with the contract?

Why would he do this to us? Why would he jeopardize our careers, our futures?

Her future? She’ll be brought up before the ethics committee for being with us.

And from what we have learned about her so far, she must be here on scholarship. Probably more than one.

She’s going to lose all of that.

This is going to strip away her security.

Why would he have her sign a contract that would jeopardize all of that?

“I’m keeping her.”

That cunt. That selfish fucking cunt.

He knew. That is the only reason he would do this. He knew she was a fucking student before he signed the contract. That fucker knew before his scene with her. He modified the contract before his scene. He must have printed it earlier that day, which explains what he’d been doing Sunday morning.

He fucked her, carved up her ass cheek, and had all of us sign a fucking sixty-thousand-dollar contract with her, all while knowing she was a goddamn student.

The fury bubbling in my veins turns to white-hot rage, boiling the blood in my veins as I shoot to standing so suddenly that my chair skids out and crashes into the wall.

The conversation ends abruptly, and I barely notice Hudson and Darcy staring at me as I charge Xavier. The fucking asshole doesn’t even flinch when he sees me coming. Doesn’t even try to defend himself when I know he can. Taking two fistfuls of his shirt, I shove him against the wall.

“Derek,” Hudson cautions, but I ignore it, too locked in on my target.

Heat pours off me in waves and my knuckles ache to crack into the smug look on the fucker’s face. “How long?” I drag him forward and shove him back against the wall, and he barely resists. “How fucking long have you known that she’s a student at Newton?”

The smirk doesn’t drop from his face as the silence from behind us turns from shocked to charged. “Sunday morning.”

The words don’t even finish leaving his mouth before my knuckles are filled with pain and hands are gripping my shoulders and arms, holding me back as I struggle to get another punch in. “You fucking bastard! You selfish asshole. How could you?”

Xavier straightens, thumbing at the split on his lip. He doesn’t say anything as he rubs his index finger against his thumb, examining his own blood.

The hands holding on to me shove me away from him, and I land against my desk.

“What the hell is going?” Darcy demands, breathing heavily as he puts himself between the two of us.

I flick a hand toward Xavier. “He knew she was a student. The contract we all signed? It doesn’t have the Student Declaration section we all agreed on. Emery did nothing wrong.”

As the words drain the fight from me, the memory of her face as I told her we aren’t her daddies anymore smashes into me. Devastation had filled her eyes and drained away the flush of her skin. The way she flinched when Darcy moved suddenly. Heartbreak and confusion. The fear. The pain.

My chest is pierced with an ache so violent, I can barely breathe.

What did I do?

“Wait… so, hold on,” Darcy starts, but swings away from me and turns to Xavier. “You changed the contract? Why?”

I look up in time to see Xavier give Darcy a flat stare before he answers. “Because she’s perfect.”

Three fucking words that couldn’t be more true.

Hudson turns away from the three of us, pacing toward the couch before jerking to a stop and flinging his arms out as he faces us once again, face hard, eyes like ice.

“So, what? You took it upon yourself to steal our choices from us? We could have had this conversation with her, we could have figured something out. But now? You’ve backed us into a fucking corner! This can’t be salvaged!”

Xavier shrugs and leans back against the wall. “I’m going to quit. This job is nothing compared to her. You should too.”

I glare at him. It’s not that fucking simple. He hasn’t given decades of his life to this career, nor does he have plans to move beyond being a lecturer. I fucking do. As does Hudson.

“You’ve known her for three days. Three days, Xav.

That is nowhere near long enough to know she is who you want her to be.

To toss away your career like that. That’s what the six months was supposed to be about,” Hudson argues, slashing his arm down in front of himself.

“But now, that’s gone. Because of you. We can’t be caught even talking to her.

She’s officially off-limits to all four of us. ”

“I’m not leaving her.” Xavier’s words are calm, even, like he is commenting on the color of the carpet, not talking about breaking the code of conduct for the university. “She’s mine. I’m keeping her. The three of you can do whatever the fuck you like.”

With those final words, he straightens and exits the room, the rest of us in too much shock to stop him from leaving.

As soon as the door shuts behind him, Darcy and Hudson turn to face me.

“What the hell are we going to do?” Darcy asks, eyes cutting to the door and back to me.

There is a trill from my pocket as the alarm on my phone chimes. A second phone starts to chime as well. I close my eyes, my eyelids actually aching, and take a deep breath before fishing my phone out of my pocket and canceling the alarm I’d set to make sure I wasn’t late to my first class.

“We’ll discuss this tonight. Meet at my place at seven. But for now, we need to get on with our days. Young minds to mold and all that.”

For a whole minute, we stand silently in the room, staring at each other and at nothing, trying to process everything that happened. But then Hudson straightens and walks out in silence, Darcy trailing out a few moments later.

I drag my fingers over the sheets of paper until the very last page is displayed.

Her artwork stares back up at me, mockingly. I had everything I ever wanted in the palm of my hand, and this drawing is all I will ever have to show for it.

I’ve worked too damn hard to be where I am now. I’m tenured, head of the math department, with my aim at the dean’s office. As much as I want Emery in my life, my bedroom, and under my floggers, I can’t allow things to progress any further.

I have to save the rest of us.

I have to keep Emery safe.

And maybe, just maybe, I can find us a way out of this mess.