Page 118 of Point of Contention

“Me?” I gasped, feigning innocence.

Cabot opened the door, then turned back to me. “Thank you for coming.”

I licked my lips, then looked up at him through my eyelashes. “Well, I haven’t yet…sir.”

Cabot’s eyes closed and he clenched his jaw, his face pained. “Not helping.”

I giggled, then covered my mouth.

When he opened his eyes again, his struggle was evident in the frustration creasing the space between his brows and the spark of fire in his dark eyes. “Cole will take you home. Pack up. I’m going to collect you and your things this evening.”

He stepped out of his office and I pushed off the desk. I poked my head out the door and yelled, “Tonight? That’s too soon. I haven’t even—”

“It’s not a discussion, Ms. Blake.” He didn’t even look back over his shoulder as he strode down the hall with purpose. “Seven o’clock. End of story.” He paused at the door to the conference room, his hand on the sleek metal handle, then looked down the hall at me. “Good luck with your interview this afternoon. Not that you need it.” He winked, then disappeared into the conference room and I slunk back into his office, eyes wide and a wild grin splitting my face.

I was moving in with himtonight.

Tomorrow morning, I’d wake up beside him in oursharedbed.

Butterflies kicked to life in my stomach. I bit down on my bottom lip as I imagined a future of waking up with himeverymorning, ass bruised, pussy sore, and

Positively

Fucking

Blessed.

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Rylan

Cabot’s driver ferried me back to Park Slope, and even though my heart was lighter than it had been in weeks, my chest was heavy, my nerves frazzled. I had my second interview at Turn the Paige this afternoon, but that wasn’t what had me so worried.

That shit was in the bag.

I looked at Cole as he waited by the car. “Want to come in?”

His brow furrowed.

I sighed. “Yeah, you’re right. I have to deal with this on my own.”

Cole’s eyes narrowed. “Everything alright, Ms. Blake?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine.”I laid this bed…

After a long moment, he gave a curt nod and left me to face my mom and Greer alone, the bastard.

I was as sure of my decision to move in with Cabot as I was sure that they would not approve. The trepidation of their reaction had my stomach in knots as I stepped inside.

The house was quiet, and my habit of glancing into the study as I entered the foyer was met with disappointment. I wasn’t greeted with the Professor’s warm smile. He wasn’t sitting in his favorite chair, reading his favorite book, or hunched over his old typewriter.

He didn’t doze quietly on the couch.

His absence was a heavy presence in this place, and it added another layer to my reasons for wanting to leave.

I didn’t want to live where he had died.

Some people might be able to go on like normal, but I wasn’t one of them. To me, that chair would always have a slight impression of his body, and my mind would always see him there, cold and lifeless.