Dark Notes(118)

My insides harden into fiery embers, hissing steam through my veins. If Beverly’s gaze wasn’t burning into me, if the consequences of this video weren’t boiling me into combustible rage, I would watch the remainder of it with a stiff cock and a hungry smile. Instead, I force myself to watch it as the man Beverly thought she hired. A jaded, insensitive teacher who only cares about his own agenda.

I pace my breathing and mask my expression, elbow on the arm rest, chin resting on a loosely fisted hand. I would turn off the video, but I need to know if the camera angle captured me when I exited.

The footage shows an indistinguishable hand in Ivory’s hair and her head bobbing up and down in a lap. It ends with her following an obscure silhouette into the dark.

Nothing on the video incriminates me. Hard to find relief in that when Ivory’s been kicked out of school three weeks before her f*cking graduation.

Beverly studies my face, her mouth pinched in a line. She’s looking for a reaction from me. It takes every ounce of control I have to not give her one as a rapid-fire of questions riddle my thoughts with bleeding holes.

I’m not Ivory’s only teacher, but I bet I’m the only one Beverly called in for a video viewing. What does she know? The footage is five months old. How long has she been sitting on it? Why is she just now using it?

Some of those answers might reveal themselves if I understood how and why the theater was equipped with a live camera.

I cock my head. “Signed parental consent is required by law to photograph or film a student, especially when it invades her privacy. What are you thinking? You know those laws are there specifically to protect student misconduct from public attention.”

She turns her glare to the tablet in front of me. “The school didn’t place the camera. It was someone’s personal device.”

There we go. That someone is either Andrea Augustin or Prescott. Both knew I moved Ivory’s lessons to the theater, and both have a reason to f*ck me over. But if they set me up, they would know it was me in the footage.

My pulse hurtles as I push a dispassionate tone through my voice. “Did you interrogate Miss Westbrook before you sent her home?”

“Yes, of course. She refused to…participate.”

“Explain.”

“She didn’t say a word after I showed her the video.” She shrugs. “It’s her funeral.”

Christ, Ivory must be freaking the f*ck out right now. Why hasn’t she called me?

My temperature rises, but I maintain a cool fa?ade. “She wouldn’t tell you the identity of the boy in the video?”

Beverly huffs. “She wouldn’t answer any of my questions.”

In a student-teacher affair, the student is a victim and therefore immune to school punishment or criminal action. All Ivory had to do was say my name, and she would’ve been exonerated.

Instead, she let Beverly assume her sexual misconduct was with another student, knowing it would result in her own expulsion. Four years at Le Moyne, and she gave up her high school diploma. A Le Moyne diploma. One that her father sacrificed everything for her to receive.

And she walked away from it.

To protect me.

I’ll rectify that right now.

“That’s me.” I tap the video screen.

Beverly blinks. “Mr. Marceaux—”

“Surely you figured that out based on the substantial size of the cock.” I grin. “I can pull it out if you need proof.”

She looks like she’s going to throw up, but beneath the disgust, there isn’t a hint of shock. “I don’t know what you’re up to, but I don’t believe for a minute you intend to ruin your career and go to jail for that…that…” She winces at my murderous glare. “Girl.”

The evidence of how deep I will go for Ivory is rotting at the bottom of a Louisiana swamp.

I pull the phone from my pocket and call her.

Beverly stretches an arm across the desk. “What are you doing?”

“Emeric.” The sound of Ivory’s tear-soaked voice makes my chest cave in.

I press the phone tighter to my ear. “Where are you?”

“Sitting in the parking lot.” Her tone rises an octave. “Oh God, Emeric. I wanted to call you, but I was afraid you would be with the dean and—”

“I’m with her now.” I smile at the sight of Beverly viciously grinding her jaw. “Come back inside.”

“But I’m—”

“You’re not expelled. Go directly to her office.” I end the call.

Beverly jerks forward, hands fisted on the desk and eyes hard and tapered. “I’m going to turn you in to the authorities.”

Except she hasn’t made the call yet.

Because she still needs my referral for Prescott. And because misconduct between a student and teacher would be bad publicity for Le Moyne.

“Let’s get to the point, Beverly.” I set the phone on my knee and drum my fingers against it. “It’s clear you pulled this video out of your arsenal to get rid of Ivory. Tell me why you chose today, of all days, to do it.”

She straightens and draws in a deep breath. “I received a disturbing call last night.” An angry flush rises up her neck. “You took her to Leopold. For an audition.”

My assumptions were right about her double-dealing connections. “Who called you?”