Lessons In Corruption: A Student/Teacher Romance (The Fallen Men Book 1)
Lessons In Corruption: Chapter 9

“Go out with me.”

It was a chilly but bright late winter day in Entrance. The sun filtered through the thin layer of clouds like silver, falling across the blossoms that burst forth early on the west coast, as soon as the last of the snow melted. The air was cold and clean, so fragrant I kept dragging in deep breaths that made my lungs tingle with cold. I was still bundled up in an old white suede coat with a fur collar that I’d bought at a vintage store in Vancouver for a steal, pale pink gloves on my hands and toque on my head. I was also holding a coffee from Honey Bear Café. It was a dirty Chai latte, my favorite. How King had known that, I couldn’t be sure, but it was sitting on my desk after third period, which I knew he had free (because I’d used my teacher’s authority unethically and printed off a copy of his schedule).

I knew it was from him because instead of my name written on the side of the cardboard, it said ‘babe.’

I hadn’t had any interactions with him outside of class and those crazy beautiful apple poems in two weeks and he was still trying to get to me. I was terrified that it was working.

“Cressida?”

I jerked out of my thoughts and finally tuned to Warren, who had been sitting beside me at the picnic table while we ate our lunches. Ostensibly, we were meant to keep an eye on the kids as they loitered about the soccer field, the tiny copse of trees to the left and the ultra-cool outdoor gym to the right. Many of the students lay on the grass drinking sodas and enjoying the sunshine even though it was still uncomfortably cold out.

At some point, Rainbow and Tay had been with us but evidently, they’d left sometime during my daydreams about King.

“Sorry,” I murmured. “What did you say?”

Warren smiled winningly at me, his Ken doll face fixing into a perfectly symmetrical grin. “Go out with me.”

“Oh.” I wasn’t surprised by the invitation; Warren hadn’t exactly been subtle in his admiration of me since he’d formally introduced himself two weeks ago. Still, I’d been dreading this moment, tried to delay it by being friendly but coolly disinterested in him. Maybe the Cressida I’d been at eighteen, desperate for love and completely naïve, would have enjoyed Warren’s attention. As it was now, I found him kind of annoying. He wore Axe body spray, for one. What grown man wore Axe body spray?

“Oh, yes, or oh, no?” Warren joked.

I opened my mouth to respond when I felt eyes on me. It didn’t make any sense but I knew the texture of the gaze, the way they fell hot on my skin then slid possessively through my hair over my cheeks and neck like a physical caress. There were words in that gaze, ones that spoke of deviant plans for my body, promises that they would one day come true.

King’s eyes on my skin spoke to me more eloquently than any man ever had before, excepting him. It made me wonder what his hands would say on my skin if given the chance.

Now, I could feel their jealousy heavy and hot as I leaned into Warren.

“Oh, no,” I said softly to my colleague. “I’m sorry, but I’m not even technically divorced yet. It’s too soon.”

Warren was already nodding, leaning towards me with an accepting smile. “Of course, I knew you’d say that. I can wait.”

“Really, I wouldn’t. I was married for eight years, it will take a while to get over that.”

His eyebrows shot up. “You’re not old enough to have been married that long.”

Irritation prickled through me. “Well, I was.”

“You must have been a child bride,” he joked. “No wonder it didn’t work out.

I winced because his words hit a little too close to home. Eighteen was too early to get married and my parents should have known that instead of cultivating it. They’d practically handed me over to William the minute the ink was dry on my high school diploma.

My phone pinged loudly in my pocket. I checked the screen, thankful for the reprieve until I saw the message there.

Lysander: In the parking lot.

Nothing good could come from my ex-con brother loitering at my place of employment, especially at a prep school like EBA where everyone was judged on their wealth and propriety.

“Excuse me, Warren,” I muttered without looking up as I slipped my phone in my pocket and sped-walked around the corner to the parking lot.

The U-shaped lot was mostly empty, students and faculty off-grounds for lunchtime, and I didn’t know if Sander had a car or not. I stood near the Science building, squinting into the sun trying to replace him when a large hand clamped down on my shoulder and dragged me behind the bushes.

I let out a loud squeak before I could control the reaction and then glared up at Sander once he had me settled between himself and the wall.

“What in the world are you doing here?” I hissed.

My big brother crossed his arms across his barrel chest and glowered down at me. I hadn’t seen him in three months but he wasn’t much changed. Prison had done that to him two years ago. He’d never been an upstanding citizen but after six years behind bars, he’d emerged tatted and roughed up in a way he’d never been before. There were scars on his hands, hands that I knew could make beautiful music, and harsh lines between his brows from a now permanent scowl. He was still beautiful to me and until I’d met King, I’d believed him to be the most handsome man in the world. What little girl doesn’t think her older brother is hero worthy? Especially when they very literally save your life?

His stern face broke into a small smile. “Good to see you too, princess.”

My heart broke open, crashing through my stupid anxiety at anyone seeing me with my thuggish looking brother. I threw my arms around his thick neck and peppered his face in kisses. His rumbling laugh worked through me as he wrapped me up in his bear hug.

“Missed you,” I whispered brokenly.

“Missed you too.”

We held each other for a long minute before he carefully placed me on the ground. I kept his hand in mine, rubbing the ridged calluses with my thumb.

“You look good,” he said. “Divorce never looked so good.”

“Thanks,” I beamed. “But not divorced yet. William still won’t sign the papers.”

Immediately Lysander’s face turned stony. “No fuckin’ way.”

“Sander, please,” I put my hand on his arm to calm him because there was no one more volatile than my brother. “Don’t worry about it. I’m doing really well.”

He stared hard at me for a second before nodding curtly. “Seems so. Got yourself a fancy teaching job at a fancy school. Thought you wanted to go back to school?”

“I need money for that. But I’m happy here for now, really. The other teachers have been really welcoming and the kids are good, really bright.”

“How you doin’ for money?” he asked, cutting right to the point of his visit.

I bit my lip. It was never easy to say, when Lysander brought up money, if he was going to ask for or offer it.

“Tell me,” he ordered.

“I’m fine, honey. I bought a tiny house by the water. It needs some fixing but it’s alright.”

“Got furniture?”

“A bit,” I assured him with a little shrug and a smile. “I pilfered some stuff from our storage unit before I moved up here.”

“Your mum and dad help?” It was always ‘your’ parents with him even though they were his as much as mine by blood. He hadn’t talked to them in years. The last time they did was seared on my brain, my father’s face as he shouted at Lysander for leading me down the wrong path right along with him and my mother’s wailing sobs. Now, they didn’t even mentioned Sander. He was worse than dead to them. It was as if he had never existed.

So, I got why he called them mine and not his.

I shrugged carefully because I didn’t want him to fly into a rage as I knew he would if he felt someone had wronged me, even if it was my own parents. “They aren’t very pleased with me right now. You know how much they love William.”

They still spent every Sunday night having dinner with him. Dad went fishing with him the first Saturday of every month just as they had done since before I hit puberty, and mum made him casseroles to keep in the fridge now that his (and I’m quoting her on this) ‘wife had abandoned him.’

I only spoke to my mother, and even then, only when she called me in an attempt to guilt trip or shame me into going back to William.

I didn’t say any of that because Lysander was unpredictable, loyal beyond belief to those he loved (only me, that I was aware of), and a little bit crazy.

“They should love you more,” Sander said.

I shrugged again. It hurt even though I wanted it not to. I was coming around to the fact that they weren’t great people, that very nearly gifting their daughter to their best friend who was nearly twenty years her senior was not okay, and that cutting her off without emotional or financial support when she finally left him was ridiculously cruel. But I wasn’t there yet.

“You love me enough for anyone,” I said, squeezing his hand. “And anyway, I’m making it work. It’s good for me to be on my own and struggle. I’ve never done that before.”

“Good,” he said, meaning it with all his heart even though he only gave me a brisk nod.

There was a little pause where I waited for him to tell me his real reason for ambushing me at my school and he pretended his only motivation was making sure I was all right.

“Need you to do something for me,” he finally grunted.

Damn.

“Okay, what do you need?” I asked as if it was no big deal.

And it wasn’t. Lysander never had much of a future. He hated our parents, began binge drinking and partying at the age of twelve and never turned back from a life of poor decisions. Our parents threw him out of the house when I was ten and he was fifteen but he’d still found ways to see me, to buy me little gifts and take me out to the movies. He was and always had been my little secret, my minor rebellion. I’d been giving him money since I was eleven, first from my allowance and then from my joint account with William. It wasn’t unusual for him to ask. He’d only had odd jobs before and now that he was an ex-con, it was even harder for him to replace work.

Only now, I didn’t have my parents or William’s money and I barely had any of my own.

So, I was hoping whatever he needed didn’t involve a whole bunch of zeroes.

“I heard you been spending some time with a brother from The Fallen MC,” he said, instead.

What?

I gaped at him as shock, horror and disbelief raged through me. How could Sander have possibly known that? I knew he liked to ‘keep an eye on me’ but how far did that extend, because he would have literally had to be stalking me to replace out about the minimal time I spent with King.

And if he knew, who else did?

I shuddered.

“How did you hear that?” I demanded, only it was too breathless to really be an order.

He crossed his arms again and stared at me, not willing to answer.

“For Pete’s sake, Sander, I spent like two days with the guy. How do you know about that?” I cried, heedless of keeping a low profile now that I was panicking.

People replaceing out I had an ex-convict as a brother was way lower on the totem pole than them replaceing out I’d made out with a student.

“Doesn’t matter. I need you to get me a job at Zeus Garro’s garage.”

“What?”

He repeated his statement then said, “I wouldn’t ask you if it wasn’t important, princess.”

I blew out a frustrated breath. “I don’t know where you heard I was hanging out with a biker but the fact is, I’m not. I ended it before it even started. I mean, come on, Sander, me with a man like that? I don’t think so.”

I laughed nervously because there was a large part of me that wanted to be the kind of girl who would attract and keep a man like that.

Sander raised a brow at me. “Don’t need to know the details. Don’t even need you to date the guy. Do need that job, Cressida. Like I said, wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t super important.”

It was easy to understand what he meant. He wouldn’t ask unless it meant the difference between staying out of jail or going back in, or maybe even the difference between life and death.

I wanted to be appalled, but even though Lysander had never asked me to personally extend a favor like this to him, I’d seen him do it to others before. This was the way of his outlaw life, favor exchanges, manipulations of people and laws, demands and acts that would make a normal human crumble. He thrived on them now, excelled at his criminal life.

I didn’t judge him for it. I’d helped buy it for him so I never judged him for it.

But he’d never asked me to take part in it.

“You can’t ask him yourself?” I ventured.

“Nope. Zeus Garro’s a smart guy, wouldn’t let someone on to that compound unless he was trusted.”

“I’m not trusted. I’ve never even met Zeus Garro.”

“This guy that you aren’t seein’ anymore. He go quietly when you cut him loose?” he asked, somewhat bizarrely.

“Ugh, not really,” I admitted.

He nodded. “Then I’m thinkin’ you’ll meet Zeus Garro sooner than you think. Gotta get goin’, text me when you’ve sealed the deal for me.”

“I really can’t promise anything,” I tried again, desperately. “I can’t see that guy again, Sander. And even if I did, I don’t think he’s the kinda guy to just blindly do what I ask.”

My brother hesitated then lifted his big, scarred hand to palm my cheek. I pressed myself into it, as always starved for affection.

“I need you to do it, you’ll do it. Best thing in my life, princess. I know you won’t let me down.”

I stared at him as he patted my cheek then turned and disappeared around the corner.

“Well, crap,” I huffed as I closed my eyes and hit my head against the wall.

When I opened them again, King was there.