Page 14 of Run For Me (Until You’re Mine Duet #1)

Chapter Fourteen

Him

I slip into the tall-back leather chair and open the laptop in front of me, sighing when I’m prompted to put in a passcode.

Of course there’s a passcode, idiot. Why wouldn’t there be?

I drum my fingers on the desk as I try to figure out what it could be. I glance around the office, browsing the books lining the shelves, the awards hanging on the wall, and the gaudy thick red velvet curtains. He couldn’t have chosen a better color? Christ.

The cursor blinks, waiting for text. A small i icon to the right flashes yellow, and I hover over it. A small bubble pops up.

Hint: High school

“Hmmm…” I think out loud, looking around the office again for something to jog my memory, and when I see the diploma hanging on the wall, I got it.

I type in the high school name and year of graduation.

I’m elated when the loading symbol pops up, swirling for a few seconds before the home screen shows.

“What an idiot,” I mutter.

I navigate to the student directory. There are way too many students to go through, but I’m hoping there’s a filter to narrow it down.

Glancing at my watch, I note it’s already 4:50. I have ten minutes until the meeting ends, so maybe fifteen total to get out of here without getting caught. Breaking into the Dean’s office is enough to get myself expelled, never mind hacking into his laptop.

The program loads up, and I click the icon labeled students. The list loads in alphabetical order, and when I see a “filter” option, I click on it.

“Fucking jackpot,” I mumble to myself with a smirk.

There is a list of filters, but gender and enrollment year are what I’m after.

That should narrow it down enough where I may be able to get through the entire list. Though I still have no idea if it’ll be any good, considering that profile picture on Surge could be a fantasy and not what she really looks like, but something tells me it’s accurate.

Something tells me she hides behind her phone or a computer, but deep down, she wants to be seen for who she truly is. She wants someone to find her. No one likes hiding in the dark. Everyone wants to be seen, wants to be wanted.

I squint and lean in close, trying to see the small photos of the women enrolled here for this semester. I breeze by all the dark-haired girls, paying special attention to anyone who is blonde, but looking more specifically for someone with blonde and pink hair—since that’s what is on her profile.

I get only a third of the way before the office door opens. I freeze for a split second before snapping the laptop shut.

The Dean walks in, freezing with his hand on the knob as his eyes settle on me.

He sighs and shakes his head, slipping into the room and shutting the door behind him.

“Damnit, what have I told you about doing this shit?” he growls as he moves closer, placing his briefcase beside the desk. “Are you trying to get us both killed?”

“Hello to you too, Father.”

“Don’t be smart with me, son. Get up.” He jerks his hand at me, and I spin in the chair before getting up and moving around the desk to sit in the plush chair. “Do I even want to know what you were doing this time?” he asks as he sits in the seat I just vacated.

“Probably not,” I admit.

He shakes his head again, pinching the bridge of his nose. “If I had known how much trouble you’d be here, I never would have talked you out of going to California.”

Guess my presence isn’t worth his need for company then.

“Well, Mom wanted me close, so…”

He pins me with a glare before deflating and nodding. That’s not even remotely close to why I stayed. In fact, it’s the reason I wanted to go in the first place.

“That she did.”

“And to be fair,” I say, folding my hands and placing them on my lap. “You left your meeting early.”

“Don’t pin this on me. You know damn well you should not be going through private stuff.” He grits his teeth. “They put me in this position, not you.”

I grit my teeth. “Obviously.”

“I can never tell whose side you’re on,” he complains.

“Why do I have to be on anyone’s side?”

“Don’t give me that shit,” he hisses. “You know that’s how it goes. I’m on the outside; your mother is on the inside. Stop doing things to piss her off or we’ll both be in deep shit.”

I huff a laugh and get to my feet, turning to browse the books on the shelf.

“Something tells me I’d get away with it.”

“Don’t trust that bitch. I’ve already told you this.”

My mother is ruthless. Doesn’t care about anyone but herself, and I knew that from the moment I was expelled from her ice-cold womb.

I’m not much different from her, but I do have bits of my father here and there.

Despite him being a pussy, he has a few acceptable qualities that he passed down to me.

Like loyalty and a moral compass, though that’s being tested more each passing day.

I have no idea how he ended up married to her, the head of an empire that rivals the mafia.

A syndicate that never once had a female leader, not until she came into the picture.

I know the bare bones of what she’s involved in.

I’m not part of it—never have been. She’s been trying to pull me in since I turned eighteen, but I won’t be her pawn.

Not more than I already am, anyway. I’d rather watch from the sidelines while she begs for my help and pretend like I haven’t already made up my mind.

My father, though? He was booted out on his ass when he pissed her off.

Not sure what he did, but I do know the only reason she hasn’t had him killed yet is because he’s the Dean here at the college.

The other families involved with my mother have assurance that their kids will attend, thanks to that, and I guess it’s payment enough for whatever he did.

“Don’t you have a class?” my father grunts.

“Not till six.” I smile at him over my shoulder.

“I just don’t understand why you have to test me!”

Ah, there’s the anger. The man, my father, has had these sudden mood swings for years. Even worse since he and my mother split four years ago—good fucking riddance, though. At least now I don’t have to spend so much time with her.

One minute he’s feeling bad, the next he’s angry, and then he’s apologizing again, asking me how he can help me do better.

As if I’m over here stealing his shit to get drugs or something.

If he’d just give me what I want, I wouldn’t have to take it.

But he’s trying to be a good man these days. Good luck with that, I say.

Though, to be fair, this isn’t the first time he’s caught me going through his computer.

The last time was for a very different reason.

It was nothing personal, just helping out a friend, to which I succeeded.

This time, of course I’d get caught before I got what I needed because it was something I wanted.

The only reason he found out last time was because the idiot I helped went and snitched on me when he blabbed to his girlfriend about how I changed his grade in the system.

See, that was a big deal that required my father to cover it up and make it look like a system glitch.

I mean, it really wasn’t a big deal. What’s the problem with changing one little grade in a class that, in the grand scheme of things, doesn’t even matter?

Where is The History of Films going to get someone who’s in Media Design?

The guy won’t be using any silent films for his work, so I just don’t see the problem.

“Why?” he growls, his face turning a deep shade of purple. “Why do you have to do this to me?”

I stare at him, clenching my jaw and noting how much we don’t look alike. Thank fuck for that. My mother was the looker, and as much as I can’t stand the bitch, I’m glad I ended up being a good-looking guy.

“I hate to break it to you, but not everything is about you,” I snap, snatching up my bag to leave his office.

I’m annoyed with him, but even more so that I’m leaving empty-handed.

That was probably the only chance I had.

At this rate, he’s going to take his laptop with him everywhere he goes. He’ll definitely change his password.

No one else on staff has full access. The teachers only have access to the students who are in their classes, so going through any of their files or computers won’t help.

Not that I know any of them well enough to even guess what their passwords would be.

Sure, I could figure out who she is by being patient and waiting until our next class together—it’s clear we have a class together since I found her journal when I was leaving.

But I’m a lot of things, and patient is not one of them. I need an answer now.

I storm out of the office, turn the corner, and run into Mindy. Good gods, of all people—

“Hey, baby,” she coos, stepping in front of me and raising her hand toward my face. I duck away.

“Not now,” I growl, and go to move around her, but she side steps me.

“Someone’s grumpy today. What’s wrong? Phone sex not enough? You can fuck me in the bathroom, if you want.” She runs her tongue along her top lip, and I gag. “I don’t have any panties on today.”

I look down at her white miniskirt, wondering how many guys have already had their cocks up there today. I step closer to her, so her tits are against my chest. Something that I would normally like, but right now, is only pissing me off.

“Nothing with you will ever be enough. When are you going to get that through your head? Is the lip filler going to your fucking brain?”

Her jaw drops and a tiny squeak escapes. She’s so shocked, I’m able to get around her without issue and continue down the hall.

She doesn’t follow. Thank fuck for that.

I make it to the library with no further issue and head to the back corner, where I sit and stew when I’m in a foul mood.

Only this time, when I get there, someone else is sitting in my chair.

I’m frozen for a moment, rendered speechless.

Hell, I can barely breathe. When I get my shit together, I take a few steps back to hide between the stacks of books so I can’t be seen—and watch her.

No one ever sits here.

It’s dark, a bit dirty, way too dusty, and completely isolated.

Hell, it’s even colder than the rest of the library.

They used to have it set up as a comfort area, with sofas and shit, but when kids were caught fucking, thanks to it being tucked away in the history section of the library, they took it all away, leaving just the one chair. And today, it isn’t empty.

Today, she is here.