44. Back To School

Chapter 44

Back To School

Megan

W hen I walk into the fine arts building of my university, I enter the halls a different student. A different woman.

It’s been a few weeks since the incident at the art show, and I haven’t spoken to anyone in the art department since my abduction. I didn’t really have to because Hunter spoke to everyone who mattered, letting them know I was safe and apologizing for any drama he may have indirectly caused at the event.

Now, things can get back to normal. Well, besides the fact that I’m pregnant and that I still have a security detail sitting in a black town car outside, looking conspicuous as hell.

There are just some things that are non-negotiable in Hunter Middleton’s world, and I’m just going to have to learn how to live with it.

So will Lena.

“Hi, Megan,” a girl from my sketch class approaches me as I take my normal seat, pulling out my supplies. “Glad to see you back.”

Marta Nunez is not someone who spoke much to me before I became the most famous student in the program for all the wrong reasons, but I don’t fault her for it. It’s just human nature for some.

“Hey, Marta. Thanks so much,” I reply, offering her a warm smile. I’m determined not to let this incident and people’s reactions because of it define me.

Marta hesitates for a moment, her dark eyes searching mine. “I know it might be... weird to talk about it. But I wanted you to know that we, the class, were really worried about you. Not just because of the drama at the show, but genuinely concerned for your well-being.”

A hint of tears gathers in the corners of my eyes, touched by what I believe is actual sincerity in her words. I hadn’t expected this level of compassion from someone I barely knew. Someone who has probably said only about five complete sentences to me since I joined this class.

“Thank you, Marta. That means a lot.”

She gives a nod, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. “You’re strong, Megan. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

Just then, our sketch instructor, Professor Whitman, enters the room, bringing with her a rush of cold air and a powerful aura of authority. She glances around, her sharp eyes eventually landing on me. “Megan,” she calls out in her firm tone. “A moment, please?”

I gulp, packing away the slight relief I’d felt just moments ago from Marta’s kind words. Rising from my seat, I approach the front of the class, and Marta sends me an encouraging nod as I pass her.

“I’m glad to see you back,” Professor Whitman starts, her tone softer than usual. “We’ve missed your talent in this room.”

“I appreciate that, Professor,” I say, taken aback.

“I’ve pulled you aside like this because the Dean asked me to. He’s on his way and wanted to speak with you privately before class starts.”

“Oh.”

Dean Darwin walks with purpose down the marbled hall in his off-the-rack tan suit and brown sensible shoes. Usually, when I’ve seen him in the past, he was busy talking to another professor or staff member, never having much time for us students–except for his favorites, of course. This time his gaze seems focused straight ahead and on me. I grow tense, wondering what he’s going to say.

“I’ll leave you to it,” Professor Whitman says. “Come back in when you’re ready.”

“Hello, Miss Taylor.” the Dean greets me cordially, although his posture looks slightly uncomfortable.

“Hello, Dean Darwin.”

“While I had a brief discussion with Mr. Middleton about your immediate welfare right after the incident at the showing, it’s good to actually see you in the flesh. You don’t look any worse for wear.”

What an odd thing to say to a woman who’s just been traumatized at a school-sponsored event.

“Yes, well, thanks to Mr. Middleton, I was found safe and sound.”

“Right.” He shuffles weight between both of his feet. “I just wanted to apologize for that. For not ensuring more security at the event. We never imagined something like that could happen, but nevertheless, we should have been more prepared.”

Something about his apology feels forced and disingenuous. A part of me wonders if Hunter put him up to it.

“It’s not your fault,” I assure him. “No one could have foreseen something like that happening. I just hope it didn’t ruin the showing for the rest of the students.”

I have to admit that I’m being a little disingenuous myself. I already knew that only a few people who were paying attention realized anything was going on that evening. For the most part, the drama unfolding was kept under wraps from the rest of the guests while Hunter’s security searched for me. No one was the wiser until someone reported the faint sound of gunshots, and soon after, they found me. By that time, most of the student pieces had been sold, including mine.

He nods, exhaling deeply. “I assure you it ruined nothing, and I want you to know that the college is here to support you in any way you need. Take things at your own pace.”

While the Dean’s sudden support of me is eyebrow-raising, it almost doesn’t matter why he’s doing it; I just accept that he is.

He sees me.

For the first time since the twisted triangle I’ve been stuck in with Ashley and Ricky, I feel a glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, things can truly be normal for me.

“Thank you, Dean. I appreciate the kind words. It’s been a challenging time, but I’m very excited to get back to work and finish my courses.”

“Speaking of your work, Megan, the Turlington Gallery was very interested in a few of your pieces. Unfortunately for them, they were already sold.”

I gasp with excitement.

The Turlington Gallery is a prestigious art gallery located in the Beverly Hills section of the city. They tend to feature local artists but established ones. The fact that they were at our showcase is already exciting, but they liked one of my pieces. That’s extraordinary.

“I’m sorry I missed meeting the curator,” I say, for the first time feeling the sting of what I actually missed out on when I was tied up in a basement.

“That’s okay because they want to commission a piece.”

“I’m sorry?” I ask, swallowing thickly.

“The gallery wants to commission a work from you. I don’t know all the details, but that’s what you’ll meet with them to find out. Of course, you can bring any professor of your choosing to the meeting just so you’re not in over your head. But I guarantee you this, Megan. This commission will be life-changing for you. You will end up being one of the most successful graduates of the university if this happens. Kudos to you.”

I try not to cry, at least not in front of the Dean.

“Thank you, Dean.”

Once he turns away, I pull my cell phone out of the side pocket of my cargo jeans and call the one person I think about when I’m this excited about anything.

“What’s wrong?” Hunter answers grimly.

“Nothing.”

“Then why are you calling me in the middle of class?”

“Hunter–”

“Speak, Megan, or I’m going to break the legs of your security detail.” His voice tightens. “Is something wrong?”

“Stop threatening to do things I know you’d never do.”

“You clearly don’t know me,” he growls.

“I’m calling to tell you something exciting.”

“What is it?” His voice suddenly smooths out.

The Turlington Gallery wants to commission a piece from me.

“Congratulations.”

“It’s a big deal, Hunter,” I say, wondering why he’s not more excited for me, although excitement is not a common emotion I’ve ever seen from him.

“I know.”

I pause for a moment.

“You had nothing to do with it, did you?”

“I’m good at a lot of things, Megan, but believe it or not, I’m not all-powerful. You secured the commission all on your own.”

“I better have.”

“Believe in your talent.”

“I do! I just also believe in your need to control everything.” I think about my exchange with the Dean.

“I’ve got a meeting in fifteen minutes. I’ll see you later at the club.”

“Okay.” I smile. Happy that Hunter has changed his tune about me still working at the Blue Whiskey until I physically can’t.

“And Megan?”

“Yes?”

“I’m proud of you, baby.”