My Professor(35)

Immediately, my hackles go up, and before I know it, I’ve spoken.

“And what would a student have to do to gain your attention? Bow down at your feet?”

The air in the vehicle suddenly feels like it’s sparking with electricity when Professor Barclay slowly turns to look back at me over his shoulder.

I forgot just how blue his eyes can be. Glacier blue. Unfeeling blue. Tear-you-in-two blue.

I barely manage to hide my gulp.

What have I done firing off a statement like that?

One of his dark brows barely rises, and yet my gaze hits the floor, all that strength gone instantly.

Zach laughs awkwardly and scoots a little closer to me, as if trying to protect me from our boss. “She was just kidding.”

Mr. Banks laughs. “She’s right, you know. Your god complex is showing.”

I don’t say another word for the remainder of the trip, which is blessedly short.

We arrive outside the Belle Haven Estate to find it’s a property rimmed with overgrown hedges. A security guard waves us past a rusty wrought iron gate. Its intricate design arches toward the sky, and it’s clear a craftsman—or team of craftsmen—put a great deal of effort into the showpiece. I lament the fact that it’s been so poorly looked after all these years, then I remind myself of where I am. Everything about this estate is going to be decaying and old and in poor condition. That’s why we’re here.

It’s immediately obvious that the property stands apart from others in the area. For one, it spans almost five acres, a good swath of which is waterfront and has direct access to Long Island Sound. Once we’re past the gate, we wind through dense forest that was never cleared, even when work was underway on the estate in the early 1900s. The forest is the main reason the home was never discovered before now. Even using drones to capture aerial views of the land, it would have been impossible to make out the road and estate buried beneath the canopy of trees.

I know from the briefing we had at the office yesterday that the home was still nearing completion when funding ran out. The scaffolding on the porte cochère’s dormers where carved ornament was being finished still remains, though a good deal of it has collapsed in on itself. The right side of the esplanade had been cleared and graded, and excavation of the front fountain had begun but was never completed. Stone carvers were midway through work on the ornamentation of the exterior walls on the grand staircase, and carpentry and cabinetry were going to be among the final touches.

Even the work that was completed is likely in a bad state because of the unfinished roof that runs down the center of the estate. Without proper care and protection from the elements, everything will have sustained some amount of damage. Today, we’ll discover the extent of it.

The SUV pulls up through a break in the trees, and I see the house for the first time.

Like other famed Gilded Age mansions, this one was designed and modeled on the richly ornamented style of the French Renaissance. Many of the details have been adapted from famous early-16th-century chateaux, specifically the steeply pitched roof, limestone facade, symmetrical turrets on each of the four corners, and arched entryways and windows. In short, it looks like a castle that should be nestled on a European countryside.

My heart quickens as I lean closer and peer through the window. I ignore the debris and wreckage, the leftover scaffolding and pallets of forgotten stone and wood. I see the home for what it was intended to be and am nothing short of awestruck.

It’s magnificent.

We park and start to unload. Zach holds out his hand for me as I try to climb out of the back seat. It’s a chivalrous act that I don’t feel like turning down. I smile and thank him and try to ignore the fact that Professor Barclay has chosen this moment to look over at me.

He’s paused nearby while everyone else has started to convene in a clearing directly in front of the estate. I start to join them until his voice captures my attention.

“I’d like a moment.”

Oh, now he wants a word? He had all the time in the world to speak to me while we were in the SUV, but apparently now is better. Now is on his terms. How convenient.

Zach shoots me a sympathetic look. He knows I’m in trouble, but there’s nothing he can do about it. Even Mr. Banks walks off, leaving me in the clutches of his ogre of a partner.

Professor Barclay keeps a healthy distance, and I don’t look at him even as he says my name.

“Emelia.”

I bristle at his harsh tone. “Professor.”

“I should have you call me Mr. Barclay.”

He should, but he doesn’t.

He lets that statement linger between us as the group starts to head for the front of the estate, leaving us behind. Before, it would have been difficult for them to hear our quiet voices, but now there’s absolutely no chance our conversation will be overheard.

“Why have you come to work for my firm?”

I stare at the sprawling estate in front of me. Isn’t it obvious? “To help restore the Belle Haven Estate. It’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”

Why does that suddenly feel like a lie?

“Look at me.”

My gaze sweeps to him instantly. My body is such a traitor where he’s concerned.

“The mistakes of the past…” He sniffs and looks away as if disgusted by himself. “They will not be repeated.”