First to Fail: A Strictly Professional Romance (Unraveled Book 3)

by Marie Johnston

  Crap. Jaycee was calling. I couldn’t exactly ignore it.

  Natalia reclined back, leaving me half sitting up. “I’m guessing only the really special people in your life get that ring tone?”

  I chuckled and grabbed my phone off the table. My heart sank when I saw the screen. Collapsing into the opposite corner of the couch, I met Natalia’s gaze. “She wants to FaceTime.”

  A flash of panic passed through Natalia’s eyes. She pushed into a sitting position on the opposite end of the couch. Once she gave me a nod, I answered and Jaycee’s green goop-covered face filled the screen. No wonder she didn’t just call. She didn’t want to get her phone dirty, and she liked to try to shock me. This kind of startle I didn’t mind.

  “Hey, kiddo. What’s up?”

  It wasn’t unusual for Jaycee to call on the weekends she was gone. Her grandparents alternated between smothering her and neglecting her. And there was always the lunch with Cierra. I never knew how that’d sit with my daughter.

  I shifted into a more comfortable position. Once I’d seen my daughter’s name, all lust had vacated the premises.

  “Nothing. Nana has friends over. Some stupid work thing. Papa’s helping her out.” Nana and Papa had an aversion to the “grand” part of parenting. Nana had insisted Jaycee call her that since before she could talk. So to be devilish, Chris had always called them that, too.

  “Boring AF?” I used her father-approved substitute for as fuck.

  Jaycee smiled, lines forming in her face mud. “Boring AF.” She always got a kick out of me using her terminology. She’d deemed me “not that ancient” at the ripe old age of thirty-two.

  She leaned closer to the screen. “What’s up with your hair?’

  “Uh…” I used my free hand to brush it down. My gaze strayed to Natalia. She was pale, like she was slowly dying inside. Damn, I hoped this phone call didn’t ruin things between us. “I was lying on the couch watching a movie when you called.” Not a complete lie.

  “Wild, Dad. I can’t even with your Saturday nights.”

  I met Natalia’s wary brown gaze and looked back at the phone. “I was doing exactly what I wanted to. How was your day? How’s your mother?”

  My whole personal situation would be shittier if Cierra and I didn’t get along as well as we did. We weren’t buddies, but we didn’t hate each other. The first few years had been hard, and I couldn’t blame Cierra for being snippy while going to college and raising a kid. I’d been too hurt by her complete rejection. I’d been an okay rebellion, but she wasn’t going to get stuck with me for life. Her parents had nearly abandoned her but had been afraid it’d make them look bad. I’d done everything short of marrying her to help. She appreciated it now, somewhat. At the time, it had been a different story.

  “Mom’s Mom.” Jaycee’s typical answer. She looked to the side and her frown cracked the goop. “She’s engaged.”

  “What?” That was a surprise. Jaycee hadn’t mentioned her mother was seeing anyone. Neither had Nana and Papa.

  “Yeah. I wasn’t the only one shocked.” She jerked her head toward where the door must be. I didn’t spend a lot of time at her grandparents’ house.

  “Nana didn’t know?”

  “Nope.” Jaycee shoved a hand through her hair and folded the hand she held the phone with around her knees. Natalia had grabbed her own phone and was scrolling through it to give me a sense of privacy. We were both too afraid for her to move and make noise that’d clue Jaycee in that I wasn’t alone.

  “What do you think?” I asked.

  “Well, I haven’t met him.” Her tone was heavy with disappointment and betrayal. “I asked if she was going to have more kids.”

  I tensed. “What’d she say?”

  Jaycee ran her tongue in front of her teeth. Her mask was cracking further from her facial movements. “Probably, but”—Jaycee made air quotes with her free hand— “‘not in the near future.’”

  When she was grown and out of the picture, was that what she thought? And how hard would it be for her to watch the mother who’d dumped her on my doorstep have other kids and live happily ever after?

  “Having kids in your thirties is different than at eighteen.” Cierra and I hadn’t been much older than Jaycee when Cierra had gotten pregnant. My stomach soured. That time had gone by fast.

  “Right?” Jaycee gazed away from the screen, her expression sullen. “It’s not me, it’s her?”

  “Basically. But it doesn’t feel like it, huh?”

  Her eyes glistened, but she blinked it away. “Just in case she was thinking about having bouncing babies of joy, I told her I got detention this week.”

  I stiffened. Please don’t say anything about Ms. Shaw. The same Ms. Shaw who’d just orgasmed in my arms. I recovered and gave her a stern look. “Did you tell her it was over a boy?”

  “No, I told her it was over a feminist principal with something to prove. Maybe Nana needs to donate more so I can get out of detention like Dresden.”

  I should’ve been mortified, but I was triumphant over finally learning the other kid’s name. “Dresden Wentworth?”

  Could Jaycee have hooked up with a wealthier family? The Wentworths had adamantly opposed my run for state senate. Dresden’s dad had been a few years older than me, but he’d taken the bench on the basketball team when I had shown up.

  When I chanced a look at Natalia, she’d lowered her phone and her eyes were narrowed on mine. Had Dresden really gotten out of detention, or did Natalia not want him and Jaycee to know?

  “Busted,” Jaycee said. “I know you don’t care for his dad.”

  “I don’t give a crap about his dad, and he’s not a fan of mine.” It had been a good thing that Cierra’s baby belly hadn’t shown until after graduation, or the Wentworths would have caught wind of the scandal and gunned for me to lose my scholarship. Then I would’ve had less time and money to offer Cierra than I’d had.

  An alarm went off. I looked around, but it was coming from Jaycee’s end.

  “Gotta rinse, Dad. See ya tomorrow?”

  “Are you coming to the store?” She used to love Arcadia. But in the last year, she’d shunned all things in the geekdom.

  “I’ll probably just have them drop me off at home.” She palpated her face, squinting into the screen. I’d lost her to the face mask.

  “Call me when you get home. Love you, kiddo.”

  She disconnected and I tossed my phone to the table.

  “How much did you hear?” I joked.

  Natalia’s cheeks had lost their post-orgasm flush. I wanted to put it back, but she was in Ms. Shaw mode. “I can’t argue. I am a feminist principal with something to prove.”

  I chuckled and dropped my head back. “Couldn’t she have picked someone besides Frederick Wentworth’s son?”

  “It would’ve made life easier for both of us.” Natalia sat forward on the couch. I hated to see her leave. My real concern was whether she’d want to see me again. “And no, he didn’t get out of detention. You and his dad have a history?”

  “Remember that scholarship? I showed up sophomore year, and what should have been his year to shine was not. He rode the plank as a senior while I played.” We’d titled that year.

  “That’s too bad.”

  Something about her tone was off. I’d heard it before, from other students and their parents. “Too bad that he wasn’t a better player than me, or too bad I got the scholarship that made it an issue in the first place?”

  She pursed her lips, then rose. “I should go.”

  “Natalia…” Should I apologize? As if judgment throughout high school hadn’t been enough, I was still getting it from the principal. Only she was my date.

  Natalia straightened her clothing and crossed to the bar, where she’d left her shoes before we’d eaten on the couch. She shoved her feet into them and grabbed her tote.

  “Are you going to talk to me? What’s going on?” I couldn’t escape the feeling that if she left with on
ly a goodbye, I’d never see her other personalities beyond Ms. Shaw.

  “Jaycee’s call was a reminder of why I shouldn’t be dating parents.” She pushed her hair off her face and finally looked at me. “This really can’t happen again.”

  “I want it to.”

  Her gaze jerked away. “Me, too. But it can’t. I’ve worked too hard to get where I am and to get taken seriously as the founder’s— Well, my career and the school’s future is riding on my efforts. I can’t wipe them all out when someone sees me with you.”

  Natalia skirted around the bar to cruise through the kitchen. She paused at the picture on the fridge. Hadn’t she seen it before? It was a colored pencil sketch of Pegasus that Jaycee had drawn in blues and purples with a silver overlay. Her work was all over the house.

  “The artist is Jaycee,” I explained. “We joke that the house is her gallery. I used to rotate them, she worked so fast, but in the last year…” It was the same story with her behavior. I’d been saying “in the last year” a lot.

  “It’s stunning.” Natalia continued to the back door. “I just can’t risk my work at the school.”

  “I understand. But at the same time, I don’t envision the Ms. Shaw I met being a woman who’s pushed around by the other parents and their ignorant opinions.”

  Natalia’s shoulders stiffened. Her step faltered before she was back on track and beelining out the door. “Good night, Chris.”

  “Have a fun practice tomorrow.”

  Climbing into her car, she paused and looked up at me.

  “The poster,” I explained. “You have roller derby practice Sunday afternoons.”

  Only the corner of her mouth lifted, but the crease between her eyebrows didn’t promise another date. She got into her car and I hit the button to raise the door. She drove away, leaving our time on the couch behind us both.

  I had to see her again.

  What would it take to find myself in the principal’s office once more?

  Chapter 6

  Natalia

  Could someone get more professionally belligerent? As Frederick Wentworth droned on about his various contributions to the programs at Preston Academy, I let my mind drift. What was it like to work for him? Did his wife get her way or was he a tyrant at home, too? They had to have Dresden as a young couple, but I was sure Frederick finished his schooling while his wife probably had to drop out and raise Dresden.

  Dresden showed promise. He was walking in his daddy’s footsteps, but in a blink, I saw the kid underneath who wanted to shine for his own reasons, not the ones ordered by his father. But Dresden was a junior and by next year, the assimilation would be complete.

  Sometimes those cases were the hardest. How did I balance a kid’s best interests versus their parents’ wishes? How did I determine which was which?

  Either way, Dresden risked his position on the football team with one more failing grade. He’d grudgingly, and with great dramatics from his mother, served his detention. They’d stretched it into two after-school periods for maximum punishment for me.

  I wasn’t one to turn to drink after a hard day, but between those two evenings, I’d killed a bottle and a half of merlot. And I hated wine.

  I couldn’t wait until roller derby practice Sunday. The release of aggression couldn’t be beat.

  Uncrossing my legs, I switched ears. Why hadn’t I used my headset? Frederick Wentworth liked his own voice too much to keep the calls short. A message from Ms. Branson flashed on the computer screen.

  Jaycee Halliwell is in the office again.

  It was unusual for Ms. Branson to remain cryptic. I tuned back into the man spewing words on the other end of the line. Frederick had made it up to last year’s donations. Did he have an eidetic memory or was he keeping a running tab of all the checks he’d written to the school? Maybe he’d gotten the amounts tattooed on his wife’s ass so he could get a good look at them every other night.

  Natalia Shaw, behave. Threading the no-nonsense steel back into my spine hadn’t been easy since that night with Chris. His words about not letting myself be pushed around still rang in my head. They should give me more gumption, decrease my level of fucks to give, or increase the swagger I strutted around the academy with.

  Nope. I only played a ruthless assassin, and not even on TV.

  It was like those words had had the opposite effect. I had slunk into my office and slammed the door behind me, startling Ms. Branson, if the rattle of the woman’s coffee cup was any indication. After my own high school experience, Priscilla Wentworth’s snide and sometimes outright hostile comments after detention shouldn’t have affected me so badly. Yet I had driven home with my hands shaking on the wheel.

  Dresden’s mom was exactly like the girls I’d gone to school with who never let me forget for one millisecond that I got favorable treatment only because I was the owner’s daughter.

  Want on the cheer squad? You were so bad, not even your daddy could help you.

  I had begged my mother not to intervene.

  Ooh, look, you got first in debate. How much did that cost your daddy?

  As if my father had even known I was on the debate team.

  Aw, that’s horrible. Who threaded a tube through your locker slats and drained an entire liter of sports drink into your locker?

  Who exactly?

  People just like Frederick and Priscilla Wentworth.

  Memories of my epically shitty school experience hadn’t bothered me for years. Why in Minnesota?

  Because I had more to hide here. Not just being the granddaughter of Godfried Preston, the mighty founder of Preston Academy, but…Chris. Because all I wanted to do was don my mask and keep seeing him.

  But the number one reason I couldn’t was waiting outside my office. I didn’t bother messaging Ms. Branson back. My assistant must think the issue didn’t need an explanation.

  Students came first and that gave me enough titanium grit to cut off the speaker on the other end of the line. I rolled out my typical speech when dollar amounts were thrown in my face. “Mr. Wentworth, on behalf of Preston Academy, I can’t thank you enough for your generosity. As you know, the forms you sign when enrolling your child at the academy state that any and all contributions will be used to better the school and will be allocated at the discretion of the school board. As always, your child’s preparation for the future is our greatest responsibility. If you have any concerns, please check the website for the next school board meeting.”

  “Ms. Shaw—”

  “I’m terribly sorry, but there is a student here to see me. Send all further inquiries to the school board. Thank you for your time, Mr. Wentworth.” I hung up. The school board had hired me for this very reason. It had been a contentious decision, but the bottom line spoke louder than the dissenters. They wanted me to be their tool of change and save the school from financial ruin.

  Some of them didn’t know I was a Preston, either, which was a bonus. My history of molding academies back into shape had spoken for itself.

  I went to the door, using the opportunity to stretch my legs. Mr. Wentworth had kept me anchored to my desk for too long. Peeking my head out, my stomach sank to the rock bottom of my sensible pumps.

  Jaycee hadn’t noticed the open door yet and her head was turned as she stared mutinously out the main office window to the hallway. Her electric-blue hair had been neatly curled and hung over one shoulder. Fuchsia streaks topped the look and made Jaycee a beacon in the room. All the administrative assistants were purposely not looking at Jaycee or in my direction.

  I sucked in a fortifying breath. Ms. Branson glanced up from her computer screen. The gravity in her expression said enough. It didn’t matter how cute Jaycee’s new ’do was, it was against Preston Academy’s dress code to artificially color hair. Everyone knew it and it was oddly one of the rules that I had never had students butt up against. Most kids didn’t want to go through the effort and expense of dying hair only to be ordered to return it to its normal stat
e. The effect on the health of the hair was enough for children who’d grown up self-conscious about blending and achieving a standard.

  After Jaycee’s round of detention and counseling, she knew full well that something as drastic as blue hair would propel her to the next level of discipline.

  Suspension.

  Fuck it all, I didn’t want to deal with this today. I’d wanted nothing more than to hear Chris’s voice, but not like this.

  And I didn’t want this for Jaycee. Knowing the personal issues and self-doubt and low self-esteem the girl was dealing with, I didn’t want a setback like this for the girl. The mother who’d given the girl up was getting remarried and had mentioned starting a family.

  That had to be the motivation behind the blue hair.

  At the same time, I could throttle the girl. Did Jaycee know how hard her dad worked for her? How much he’d given up to spend quality time with her?

  Time to be the bad guy. “Jaycee. Come in, please.”

  The flare of anxiety in Jaycee’s gaze disappeared immediately. Rebellious obstinance was there to stay.

  I stepped aside and shut the door once Jaycee stalked past me. Jaycee wore khaki pants today with an emerald shirt. Was her choice deliberate? The color of green clashed outrageously with her cotton-candy-blue hair.

  Once we were settled in our seats like the first time, I gave the girl a hard stare. “Why’d you do it?”

  “It’s just hair dye.”

  “What’d your dad say?” Had Chris sent her to school, knowing this was going to happen? Didn’t he know he could call with concerns?

  Another reason why going home with him had negatively impacted my work. I couldn’t let my personal desires interfere again.

  “He didn’t even notice,” Jaycee said bitterly.

  I raised a brow. “Blue hair isn’t easy to overlook. You hid it from him.”

  A flash of guilt. Jaycee was an emotional girl trying to appear like an immovable mountain. “I wore a hat. It’s cold out.”