Ivy Series Teacher Student Romance - Boxed Set: Romance Boxed Sets for Kindle Unlimited (Ivy Series - Teacher Student Romance Book 7)

by Suzy K Quinn

  Dad gives an approving cough. ‘Yes. Well. Early days.’

  ‘Let’s have lunch,’ I say.

  Chapter 72

  Predictably, the men at the table eat hearty portions of the pie, while Genoveva picks at her piece and I only have a small slice. I’m too nervous to be hungry.

  I love watching Marc eat. There’s something about the measured, controlled way he uses his knife and fork that does things to me.

  ‘You made this?’ Marc whispers, on his second slice. ‘I can’t believe you’ve never cooked for me before.’ He gives me that playful half smile and slips his hand into mine.

  We drink wine, eat and Dad cross-examines Marc about everything, from his acting pedigree to why he formed the college.

  ‘I wanted to send the elevator down,’ says Marc, simply. ‘I wanted other young actors to have the chances I’ve had. Acting is my life. It’s what keeps me sane. And I know that’s true for a lot of young people, but many of them won’t ever have an acting career, no matter how talented they are. My goal is to help them into the profession.’

  ‘Very admirable,’ says Dad, taking a swig of wine.

  ‘And I had to save that building,’ Marc adds, glancing at me and smiling. ‘All that beautiful greenery in the middle of London. I couldn’t let it be destroyed.’

  By the end of the meal, I feel Dad has – if not thawed completely – grown a little warmer towards Marc.

  ‘Sophia, I have to leave,’ says Marc. ‘I have a meeting booked with my PR team.’

  I feel my stomach tighten. ‘Okay.’

  ‘Would you like me to take you back to college?’ Marc asks. ‘Or would you like more time with your family?’

  ‘I should head back,’ I say. ‘I have a singing class this afternoon, and I’d rather not miss it.’ I turn to Dad. ‘I’ll come back next weekend, okay?’

  I hurry upstairs to kiss a sleeping Samuel, and when I come back down, Marc and my dad are shaking hands again.

  ‘Perhaps you can come again sometime,’ Dad is saying. ‘And we’ll have a proper drink. None of this wine nonsense.’

  ‘I’d be delighted to,’ says Marc.

  We head outside, into the chilly autumn afternoon. There are orange and brown leaves all around.

  Marc sees the photographer before I do. I only see a bright white flash, and Marc pull me to him. He bundles me into the car, and I watch through the tinted window as Marc sprints down the country lane after a man in a denim jacket. Marc is fast, but the photographer has a head start, and I imagine terror must be putting a spring in his step.

  I hear the roar of a motorbike, and see Marc turn and bolt back towards the car. He’s barely out of breath as he leaps in the back.

  ‘Are you okay?’ he asks me.

  ‘I’m fine.’

  ‘I don’t want to chase him in the car. It’s too dangerous.’ He rolls his knuckles down the window. ‘Parasites. To come to your family home. They must have followed me here. I thought we were careful, but ... I’m so sorry.’

  ‘It’s okay. It was bound to happen sooner or later.’

  ‘They’ve got nothing,’ says Marc. ‘They don’t know anything about why I was visiting. But it forces our arm a little. It’s started. They’re not going to back off. Once they have an idea for a story, they won’t give up.’ He turns to me. ‘I’ll call you after my PR meeting, and we’ll figure out what’s going to happen. One thing’s for certain. Things can’t carry on as they are. We have to decide whether to jump or not. And soon.’

  ‘Right.’ I swallow. I feel scared. Uncertain.

  ‘Sophia, are you sure you really want to do this?’ Marc asks. ‘Your life will change forever. And you won’t be able to go back. There’s still time to change your mind.’

  I nod. ‘I feel like I’m about to leap off a cliff without a rope. But not to jump ... that doesn’t feel right either.’

  Marc takes my hand. ‘I’ll take care of you,’ he says. ‘I have things in place that can protect you. I’ll make it as easy as can be, but there will still be problems. Issues. If you’re ready for that, then we can do this. You should take some time to think.’

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘I’ll take you back to college. Go ahead with your class. Talk to Denise. Talk to your friends. I’ll be waiting.’

  Chapter 73

  In singing class, I can’t concentrate, and Denise has to call me by name a few times to make me pay attention.

  ‘You’re half asleep today, Ms Rose,’ she says, as the class filters out. ‘Anything you want to talk about?’

  I sigh. ‘Yes. So many things on my mind.’

  ‘Then let’s have a tea. I’ve made my own herbal brew today. Fancy a cup?’ She flicks the kettle on.

  ‘Yes please.’

  She throws a handful of dried fruit, berries and flowers into two mugs, pours boiling water and hands me mine. It’s bright pink and smells delicious – like strawberries and herbs.

  ‘Hibiscus flower,’ she says. ‘Good for problem solving. Now. What can I help you with today? You look like you’ve got the weight of the world on your shoulders.’

  ‘I have,’ I say. ‘I’ve got the biggest decision to make.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘Marc and I ... we’ve got closer. More serious. And I thought I wanted to have a proper relationship. A public relationship. Like normal people have. I knew it could never be truly normal, but I don’t want to sneak around. For everything to be hidden.’

  ‘Sounds perfectly reasonable,’ says Denise.

  ‘Marc never wanted things to be hidden, either,’ I say. ‘But he was worried about my reputation. How I’d be perceived if things got out.’

  ‘That’s just like Marc,’ says Denise, with a smile. ‘And I bet he doesn’t give two hoots about his reputation, does he?’

  ‘No, he doesn’t,’ I say. ‘He’s happy for us to go public. He’s talking to his PR team this afternoon about how best to do it. How to limit the damage, and not have me painted in a way that might hurt my career in future. But now it’s coming to it, I have to make sure it’s the right decision. Marc has warned me over and over again what might happen if our relationship gets out. And ... perhaps I’m not as ready to face all that as I thought.’

  Denise sighs. ‘It’s a difficult situation. I feel for you. I don’t know what I’d do if I were in your shoes. What does your heart tell you?’

  I take a sip of pink tea, and it tastes as delicious as it smells. ‘It tells me I want to be with Marc. It tells me that if we’re together, we can cope with anything. And it tells me if I walk away from him, I ... I don’t know if I could live.’

  ‘You could live,’ says Denise, putting her warm, white hands over mine. ‘I assure you of that. Many young women have walked away from the love of their life, and then found another love of their life a few months later.’

  ‘Do you think Marc and I ... do you think we stand a chance?’ I say.

  Denise looks at me for a moment. Then she nods slowly. ‘A chance, yes. Marc is crying out for a girl like you. Someone softer to bring out what he tries to hide. And I’ve never seen him fall like this for anyone before. If he takes this chance with you, he’ll never let you go unless you want him to. He’ll stand by you through thick and thin.’

  ‘I know that,’ I say. ‘I feel safe with him. Protected. I don’t feel he’d let me down. But it’s whether I can cope with things. That’s the question.’

  ‘And I think only you have the answer to that question,’ says Denise.

  ‘There’s something else, too,’ I say. ‘A photographer. He took our picture just now. Leaving my dad’s house.’

  ‘Right.’ Denise takes a long sip of tea. ‘That could be a tricky one. I’d imagine the tabloids will be falling over themselves, trying to prove a teacher student affair. It wasn’t an intimate picture, was it?’

  ‘No,’ I say. ‘Just the two of us leaving the house.’

  ‘They’ll be trying to make something of that, though,�
�� says Denise. ‘If you carry on seeing each other in secret, there’ll be more photos before you know it.’

  We talk for an hour, but I’m no closer to coming up with an answer. I’m walking through the college grounds, about to call Jen, when my phone rings. It’s Marc.

  ‘Hi,’ I say, kicking a pile of orange leaves. ‘How are you?’

  ‘It’s not good news Sophia.’ Trust Marc to get straight to the point. ‘The photo of us is already being auctioned to the newspapers. It’ll hit the stands tomorrow – probably in more than one tabloid.

  ‘My PR team are struggling to limit the damage. They can see the tabloids having a field day, and following you for months, maybe even years to come. Your reputation might be tainted if we stay together. If you won acting roles, it would be assumed that I’d pulled strings. I don’t know if I can let you go through that. Not for me.’

  ‘It’s not just for you,’ I whisper. ‘It’s for me too. But ... I hear what you’re saying. I know things will be hard. I need time to think, okay?’

  ‘Okay.’ I hear Marc breathing. ‘I wish I could be with you. I wish I could hold you.’

  I feel tears coming. ‘I wish I could be with you too.’

  ‘There are photographers all around the gates,’ says Marc, ‘but you’re safe inside – we have excellent security. Just don’t leave until I tell you to.’

  ‘Okay.’

  Chapter 74

  I eat dinner in the meal hall that night with Tom and Tanya, and tell them about the latest twist in my situation.

  ‘We know,’ Tanya says. ‘We both got contacted on Facebook this afternoon by reporters asking us to sell stories.’

  ‘Oh no.’ I put my head in my hands.

  ‘I take it that means you don’t want your apple crumble,’ says Tom.

  ‘Take it,’ I say.

  ‘Isn’t that a good thing, though?’ says Tom, spooning up my pudding. ‘I mean, don’t you want your relationship to be out in the open? And now it sort of forces the issue, don’t you think?’

  ‘Yes,’ I agree. ‘It does. It forces it one way or the other. Have a public relationship and be followed by reporters for my entire time at college. Maybe have my reputation ruined. Or walk away from Marc forever.’

  ‘Tough call,’ says Tanya. She looks over at Cecile and Ryan. ‘What are you two staring at?’

  They both smirk, and look back at their desserts.

  ‘I’m guessing reporters got in touch with them too,’ I say. ‘Oh, great.’

  ‘It’ll all come out in the wash, love,’ says Tom. ‘Tomorrow’s chip wrappings, isn’t that what they say?’

  ‘We don’t wrap chips in newspaper anymore,’ says Tanya. ‘It’s unhygienic.’

  ‘Yes, yes, but you know what I mean,’ says Tom. ‘Are you really going to walk away from someone you love, because you’re scared about what the public will say about you? This is your life, for Christ’s sake. You’re the only one living it, so who cares what people say?’

  ‘It’s not just that, though,’ says Tanya. ‘If she’s going to be an actress, her public profile is very important. Reputations are everything in this business. If people see her in a certain light, it might be difficult for her to get work.’

  ‘That works the other way, too,’ says Tom. ‘Notorious actors get more work than unknown ones. Anyway, I think it’ll all blow over. And Sophia’s such an amazing actress that when people see her perform, they’re not going to care about anything they’ve read.’

  ‘That’s if anyone will give her a part,’ Tanya points out.

  Chapter 75

  It turns very cold that evening, and I switch on all the radiators in my room and light a fire in the grate, burning logs and twigs I’ve found in the woods. It makes the room feel cosy, and I get into bed and watch the flames dancing in the darkness.

  My head hurts. There’s so much to think about, and the truth is, neither I nor anyone else has any definite answers.

  The worst of it right now is that I can’t see Marc. And that hurts. Being without him is painful.

  I watch the fire for a long time.

  Around midnight, I hear a tap on the French windows that makes me jump. I get up and go to the balcony. On the concrete, I see a white stone clatter to a stop. There’s another tap, and this time I see a stone hit the French window.

  I go to the balcony and open the glass doors. A rush of cold air comes in, and I shiver in my pyjamas. The college is dark and quiet, and smells like earth and trees.

  Down on the ground, I see a tall figure looking up at my window. His white face is alight in the moonlight, and his lips are red and bruised looking.

  ‘Marc?’ I whisper.

  ‘Sophia.’

  My heart shudders.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ I say. ‘How did you get in without being seen?’

  Marc smiles. ‘I have my ways. I’m coming up.’

  I throw my arms around myself to stop from shivering. ‘How can you? If I come down and let you in, some of the other students might hear.’

  ‘Stay where you are.’ Marc puts his foot to the wall and climbs the metal drainpipe. He jumps up each bracket until he’s inches away from the balcony. Then he springs across in one swift, easy movement, swinging himself over the rail.

  He’s wearing a black t-shirt, black cargo trousers and dark grey trainers, and his hair is flopping onto his forehead. I smell soap and cigarettes.

  ‘Romeo, Romeo,’ I say.

  ‘It is the east, and Juliet is the sun.’ Marc smiles, reaching out to stroke my cheek. His eyes are teasing, but intense. It feels like there’s no one but us in the whole world when he looks at me like that.

  ‘It’s too cold out here for you,’ says Marc, stoking hair from my face. He scoops me up and carries me inside, rubbing my arms and kicking the glass doors closed behind us.

  It’s dark in my room, but the fire embers create a warm glow. He holds me tight. ‘I missed you.’

  ‘I missed you too.’

  He rests me on the bed and lies beside me, propping himself up on his elbow.

  I rest my hand on my cheek.

  ‘Oh, that I were a glove upon that hand,’ says Marc, smiling that devilish Marc Blackwell smile. ‘That I might touch that cheek.’

  I grin back at him.

  ‘I thought if things are going to end,’ he says, ‘they couldn’t end without me seeing you one last time.’

  ‘Who says they’re going to end?’ I ask.

  ‘I just had a hunch,’ he says, ‘that you might decide the challenges aren’t worth it.’

  ‘Maybe it’s you who’s had enough of me.’

  ‘Never.’

  He kisses softly, feeling me with his lips. Then slowly he undresses me and himself, looking into my eyes the whole time. I put my arms around him, feeling his broad shoulders under my fingers.

  Effortlessly, he slides inside me, stroking my hair, running his fingertips down my neck and body. It’s Marc, but a new Marc. I’ve never felt him be this tender before. His eyes are wide, and the clearest blue I’ve ever seen them.

  ‘I want to let go now,’ he tells me, moving deeper. ‘I want to let go with you.’

  ‘You can,’ I say. ‘I want you to. It’s what I want more than anything.’

  He moves again, his blue eyes growing softer. He grips me tighter, and his breathing quickens.

  ‘Oh god,’ he says. ‘Oh god, Sophia. Yes. Oh yes.’

  I feel him come inside me.

  He looks right at me the whole time, his eyelids fluttering and his lips falling open.

  I don’t look away. I can’t. I feel like I’m seeing right into his soul. And it’s beautiful.

  I wrap my arms around him and pull him closer.

  Marc falls onto me, breathing hard against my neck. After a while, he pulls himself up and whispers, ‘I need to know. Are we going to do this? Or am I going to have to get over you?’

  I look into his blue eyes, so full of emotion – power, strengt
h and fear – and I know I made my decision months ago. ‘Yes,’ I say. ‘We’re going to do this.’

  ‘You’re sure?’ he asks.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I love you.’ He strokes my hair.

  ‘I love you, too.’

  ‘In the morning then,’ he says. ‘We’ll leave the college together. Hand in hand. Let them take their photographs.’

  ‘Okay,’ I say, feeling his arms slide around me. ‘Tomorrow. First thing.’

  We fall asleep wrapped in each other’s arms, our foreheads touching.

  Book II – Where the Ivy Grows

  1

  I hear a voice.

  ‘No. NO! Not this time.’

  It’s Marc. Shouting.

  My eyes flick open, and I feel Marc’s arms tighten around me. We’re in bed, facing each other, my naked body pressed against his bare chest. It’s dawn, and I see pink light glowing through the bedroom window.

  Marc’s eyes are screwed tightly shut, and he looks in pain.

  ‘Marc?’ I say.

  ‘Get away from her!’ he shouts, and his arms grip me tighter.

  I stare at Marc’s closed eyelids as they flicker over his beautiful blue eyes.

  Marc’s pale face glows in the breaking dawn. He’s suffering, and I can’t stand it.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ I whisper. ‘Marc? Are you okay?’

  Marc bolts upright, pulling me up with him. He looks bewildered. Confused – a little boy on the verge of tears.

  I stroke hair from his forehead. ‘Are you having a bad dream?’

  He opens his mouth and closes it again, then pulls me against his chest.