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

by Suzy K Quinn

  ‘A calculated risk.’ Marc puts a hand to my cheek. ‘You’re not letting this go, are you?’

  ‘No.’ I give him a determined stare. ‘Not until you’re fair to your brother.’

  Marc smiles. ‘You think of me as so unfair?’

  ‘In this case, yes. I think you’re holding onto past fears. And what about Ivy? Are you going to deprive her of a loving uncle because you’re afraid?’

  The frown appears again. ‘This has nothing to do with being afraid.’

  ‘It does,’ I say, my fingers finding Marc’s frown lines and smoothing them away. ‘Please, Marc. Just give Michael a chance. When we get back to England, will you let him visit? And take it from there?’

  ‘One visit?’ says Marc.

  ‘That’s all I ask.’

  ‘I can do that.’

  ‘Thank you.’ I can’t help grinning, because one visit will become more. I’m sure of it. As soon as Marc sees how Michael is with Ivy, all his trust issues will be gone.

  48

  After a morning of rehearsals, Marc and I have a quick lunch on our private sun deck. We eat Serrano ham, Manchego cheese and salsa potatoes, washed down with ice-cold Coca Cola.

  Ivy lies beside us on a nest of blankets, drinking milk and watching the blue sky.

  Tanya insists on being around to help with Ivy, rushing out every five minutes to apply sun cream and adjust Ivy’s umbrella.

  ‘Sorry, sorry,’ she says each time. ‘Don’t mean to interrupt.’

  ‘It’s really fine,’ I tell her, the third time she comes out. ‘Honestly. Come join us.’

  ‘Oh, I wouldn’t want to intrude,’ she says.

  ‘You’ll come back out in five minutes anyway,’ I point out.

  ‘Oh … okay.’ Tanya plops herself on a chair beside me, her eyes fixed on Tanya. ‘So what’s happening this afternoon?’

  ‘I have a rehearsal with Benjamin,’ I say, handing Tanya an icy cold can of Coca Cola.

  ‘Benjamin. Ooo,’ Tanya teases, cracking open her can.

  Beside me, I sense Marc stiffen.

  ‘Are you nervous?’ Tanya asks. ‘He’s a big star.’

  ‘A little nervous,’ I admit. ‘I mean … it’s all new.’

  ‘Where are you meeting him?’

  ‘In the show theatre,’ I say. ‘On the fourth deck. It’ll just be the two of us.’

  Marc bangs his water bottle down and gets to his feet, stalking to the deck rail and staring out to sea.

  ‘If it were me, I’d be bricking it,’ says Tanya, barely noticing Marc’s anger. ‘I mean – Benjamin Van Rosen. I know everyone says he’s a dickhead, but he is amazing. He’s in two of my top ten favourite films. And he’s fucking gorgeous. He’s—’ She glances at Marc. ‘I mean, he’s supposed to be a bit of a ladies man, isn’t he? Lucky Marc’s here. So he knows you’re off limits.’

  ‘Um …’ I glance at Marc too. ‘Yes.’

  The show theatre is still and quiet when I arrive.

  I love that about theatres – the way they sleep and wake up.

  At first, I think I’m all alone. But then I see Benjamin by the stage in a white polo shirt and cream-coloured shorts.

  He’s watching me, hands in pockets, pale blue eyes on me like a laser.

  I try for a smile. ‘Nice choice of venue.’

  ‘You like it?’ Benjamin watches me, the predatory look still in his eyes.

  ‘I love empty theatres.’ I walk down the steps towards him.

  ‘Me too.’ Benjamin pats the edge of the stage. ‘Sometimes, I wish I could go back to those days. When I acted in theatres and no one knew who I was.’

  ‘Really?’ I reach him. ‘You strike me as someone who enjoys being famous.’

  ‘Not at all.’ He smiles. ‘Be careful what you wish for. Fame is a deal with the devil. You can never go back.’ He gestures to the stage. ‘Theatre is where my heart is. I was discovered in a theatre. In New York.’

  ‘New York? Really? Is that where you’re from?’ I ask.

  ‘Brooklyn. Once upon a time.’ He offers me his hand. ‘Shall we?’

  I hesitate. ‘Where’s best? On stage?’

  ‘Of course on stage.’

  When I don’t take his hand, he gestures to the steps. ‘Okay. After you then.’

  I climb the steps, and Benjamin hops up after me.

  ‘Where do you want to start?’ he asks, when we’re both on stage.

  ‘Um … how about the fight scene?’ I suggest.

  ‘With you?’ He raises a blond eyebrow. ‘I’d rather save that for Marc.’

  Oh god. ‘Benjamin—’

  ‘Joke, joke.’ Benjamin holds up his hands. ‘So you’re ready for a fight, are you?’

  I laugh. ‘Definitely.’

  49

  I shake my arms out and roll my head around my shoulders.

  ‘Jonathan,’ I begin, my words faltering. ‘You’re … here.’

  ‘Where else did you expect me to be?’ says Benjamin.

  ‘With the men. Playing cards.’

  ‘I have a better question,’ Benjamin demands. ‘Where were you?’

  ‘My dance lesson overran, is all,’ I say, acting flustered. ‘Dorothy had lots of extra steps—’

  ‘That’s a damned lie.’ Benjamin circles me. ‘You were with him. Now you listen here.’ He wags his finger. ‘I’m your fiancé. You will do as I tell you. There will be no more dancing—’

  ‘Jonathan, please.’

  ‘It’s utterly ridiculous,’ Benjamin shouts. ‘And you look ridiculous. No wife of mine will behave this way, Violet. If you ever do anything like this again, God help me …’ He balls up his fists.

  I take a deep breath. ‘Jonathan, I don’t love you anymore.’

  Benjamin runs a hand through blond hair. ‘What does love have to do with anything?’

  ‘I can’t marry you,’ I blurt out.

  Benjamin grabs my arm. ‘Violet, don’t be so stupid. You don’t know what you’re saying. Think of everything you’d be throwing away.’

  ‘Let go of me!’ I pretend to struggle. His grasp looks hard, but it’s an actor’s hold and doesn’t hurt.

  ‘Damnation, Violet! What is all this for? Some stray dog dancer who’ll be gone in a week.’

  ‘Please.’ I whirl around. ‘Jonathan, let go.’

  ‘You will marry me Violet,’ Benjamin insists. ‘And you will behave like my fiancée.’ He pushes his lips against mine, and I struggle against him. Really struggle, actually.

  I push him away and stumble back. ‘Benjamin.’ I shake my head, breathless. ‘That wasn’t in the script.’

  ‘So?’ He shrugs. ‘Go with what works. You can’t tell me a kiss doesn’t add drama.’

  I hesitate, playing out the scene in my mind.

  He sort of has a point.

  ‘What’s the problem?’ Benjamin asks. ‘Mr Marc Blackwell won’t like it?’

  ‘It’s not that …’ I insist.

  ‘Isn’t it?’

  I think about that. Maybe I am worrying about Marc. I’m certainly very aware of Benjamin’s reputation.

  ‘Sophia.’ Benjamin puts a hand on my shoulder. ‘Give me a chance, okay? I want to make the best movie. Think about it. That scene will work so much better if I kiss you. Play it out with me, honey. Please—’

  ‘I’m not your honey.’

  ‘Okay, okay. Would baby be better?’ He gives me a cute boy band smile, all dimples and smouldering eyebrows.

  I laugh.

  ‘Come on.’ Benjamin gestures me towards him. ‘Let’s act the shit out of this scene. Look, I’m an idiot, okay. Everyone knows it. But I sure can act. I know what I’m doing. Trust me. Okay honey baby?’

  I roll my eyes, but I’m smiling.

  Benjamin laughs. ‘That’s better. Things got a little serious there. Hey listen. How about we make our own scene where Violet hits Jonathan on the nose. Would that work for you right now?’

  ‘Yes. Definitely.’

  �
�Just go easy on me.’ Benjamin shakes out his arms. ‘I guess being with someone like Marc—’ He stops himself. ‘I mean … just don’t punch me too hard. This face has got to stay pretty.’

  I smooth my hair down and loosen my body. ‘Shall we start again?’

  ‘Sure. From where we left off?’ Benjamin asks.

  I nod, launching straight into it. ‘Jonathan, how dare you kiss me like that! We’re not even married—’

  ‘You’re my fiancée,’ Benjamin shouts. ‘You let that mongrel put his hands all over you—’

  ‘How did you know, Jonathan?’ I shout back. ‘That I was with Nicky? You tell me that.’

  ‘I had you followed. I don’t apologise for it.’

  ‘Spying on me?’ I yell. ‘You had no right—’

  ‘Oh I had every right.’ Benjamin puts his hands on his hips.

  ‘We were dancing,’ I insist. ‘That’s all.’

  ‘Is that the name for it?’ Benjamin growls. ‘You know Violet, I swear you’re the best call girl on the block.’

  I slap him around the face – an actor’s slap, and he reacts convincingly, turning away, hand springing to his cheek.

  ‘Do that again,’ his voice is menacing, ‘and I’ll forget you’re a lady and fight you like a man.’ He rubs his skin. ‘I saw plenty today. You with your leg over his shoulder. Being dragged across the dance floor.’

  ‘Jonathan—’

  ‘Enough.’ He grabs my shoulders, shaking me a little. ‘This ends today. Do you hear me? This nonsense ends. You are not a dancer. You never will be a dancer. You will be my wife and behave with decency.’

  I feel tears in my eyes. ‘I’ve never felt so alive as—’

  ‘As what?’ He stops shaking me, his eyes boring down.

  I turn away from him. ‘When I’m dancing. I feel alive.’

  ‘That’s not what you were going to say.’ His hands drop from my shoulders. ‘You were going to say you’ve never felt so alive as when you’re with him! That gutter rat. Do you love him?’

  ‘Jonathan, don’t …’ I look to the floor.

  ‘Tell me the truth.’ Benjamin grabs my arm.

  ‘This is a ridiculous conversation.’ I try to pull back from him.

  ‘Answer me.’ Benjamin pulls me closer.

  ‘Jonathan, stop!’

  He raises a hand and I cower, sobbing.

  In the script, the scene ends there. And I run away to Nicky, covered in bruises.

  I wipe my eyes and stand up straight, a little shy to find myself under Benjamin’s soft gaze.

  ‘Are you okay?’

  I nod, feeling damp on the backs of my hand.

  ‘Seriously?’

  ‘Fine.’ Although in truth, I’m still getting my feelings together. Not everyone acts like I do, by feeling every single thing. But it’s the only way I know how to do it.

  ‘Hey, come here.’ He opens his arms.

  I shake my head. ‘Honestly. I’m fine. Just give me a minute.’

  ‘You’re not fine. I act the same way you do. With feelings. To tell the truth, I still feel pretty angry at you.’ He grins, and I see his perfect white canines.

  ‘Oh come on,’ I say, picking up on his humour. ‘It’s not my fault I’m in love with somebody else.’

  ‘That guy doesn’t deserve someone as perfect as you.’ Benjamin is still grinning. ‘And speaking of which, how did Marc Blackwell win you over?’

  I feel my features soften. ‘By being the most amazing man I’ve ever met.’

  ‘Amazing. Really? You know, I read the newspapers, same as everybody else.’

  ‘Newspapers are full of rubbish,’ I say, hoping to change the subject.

  ‘Sometimes,’ says Benjamin. ‘But usually there’s a grain of truth in there. I sure have heard about Marc on the grapevine. He likes to be in charge.’

  I shrug. ‘I like that he knows his own mind.’

  ‘Really? Because the way I heard it, he wasn’t even in this movie when we started out. He jumped onboard when he discovered you were taking the role. Sounds a little jealous to me. And controlling.’

  ‘He … he’s protective,’ I admit.

  Benjamin grins. ‘Am I being an idiot again?’

  ‘A little bit.’

  ‘See? I’m learning?’ He puts a friendly arm around my shoulder. ‘Hey, how about we take a break together tonight? There’s a movie theatre onboard. We could watch a black-and-white classic. I promise I won’t try and steal your popcorn.’

  I duck out from under his arm. ‘Maybe another time.’

  ‘Won’t daddy let you stay out late?’

  ‘It’s not like that. I have a baby.’ I check my watch. ‘She’ll wake up soon.’

  ‘And she has a nanny, right? I’ve seen her. Red hair. Nice ass.’ Benjamin winks. ‘Come spend time with me. A movie works best when the cast get along.’

  ‘We can get along without spending time together.’

  50

  Marc is working at his desk when I get back to our suite, dressed in his black suit, tieless with his shirt collar open.

  I put my arms around his shoulders. ‘Where’s Ivy?’

  ‘Still with Tanya.’ Marc frowns at his laptop. ‘She’s taken her swimming in one of the many pools.’

  ‘Everything okay?’

  He turns to me, frown softening. ‘A dispute over planning permission in London. It’s … frustrating. But nothing that can’t be fixed.’ Pulling me onto his lap, he says, ‘How was the rehearsal?’

  ‘Emotional,’ I admit. ‘But good.’

  ‘Not too emotional I hope?’

  ‘How could it not be?’ I enjoy the warmth of Marc’s body. ‘Acting is all about emotion.’

  ‘And control.’ His arms tighten around me. ‘Don’t forget the control.’

  I smile. ‘How could I when you’re around?’

  ‘Are you calling me controlling, Mrs Blackwell?’

  ‘I wasn’t. Someone else did.’ I regret the words as soon as they come out of my mouth.

  ‘Let me guess.’ Marc’s eyebrows pull together again. ‘Benjamin.’

  ‘He was just joking,’ I say.

  ‘I’m failing to see the funny side.’ Marc slots his fingers into my hair. ‘Control is a very serious matter. What man wouldn’t want to protect someone as beautiful as you?’

  ‘You know, some people would say that control and protection are two different things.’ I let my head follow his fingers. ‘You don’t control me. You do realise that, don’t you?’

  Marc is smiling now, still running fingers throw my hair. ‘And I wouldn’t even try.’

  I move so I’m straddling him, looking into his intense blue eyes.

  Marc spins the computer chair around, so my back is against the hard edge of the desk. He closes his laptop, pushes it to one side and says, ‘Once upon a time, the law said a husband owned his wife.’

  ‘Thank goodness that law has changed,’ I say, my hands reaching up to find Marc’s thick, brown hair.

  ‘A husband ruled the household,’ says Marc, pushing my summer dress up my hips and over my head. ‘And his wife would obey his every command. And if she didn’t, he’d punish her.’

  ‘I don’t want you to control me,’ I murmur.

  Marc’s blue eyes are on fire, as he lays me back on the desk. ‘You’re quite sure?’

  I nod, my head bumping hard wood.

  ‘Because I’m certain that you do,’ says Marc. ‘Absolutely certain.’

  ‘You’re wrong.’ I look up at him.

  ‘Am I?’ He pulls my legs around his hips.

  I can feel his hardness pressing against me, and give a little moan.

  ‘We don’t have long,’ I whisper. ‘Tanya could be back any minute.’

  Marc nods, his eyes holding mine. His hands leave my hips for a moment, and I hear the zip of his trousers. Then he slides inside me, and I let out a cry.

  ‘Oh Marc.’

  He begins to move, slow and steady, one hand pre
ssing firmly between my breasts, pinning me to the table.

  I soften beneath him, hearing ocean spray as the ship ploughs through the water, and feel the whip of sea breeze from the sun deck.

  My eyes squeeze shut as I feel and enjoy Marc thrusting his hips back and forth with unrelenting precision and focus.

  He’s not usually this kind to me. He hardly ever enters me straight away.

  I feel warmth growing, as his firm hand keeps pressure on my body.

  Then, as suddenly as he started, he pulls back.

  ‘Don’t stop! Please,’ I beg.

  ‘So who is in control in this scenario?’ Marc asks.

  Oh god. I swallow.

  ‘Sophia?’ he demands. ‘I asked you a question.’

  This again?

  ‘Please Marc,’ I say. ‘I don’t want you to stop.’

  ‘You don’t sound very in control.’

  ‘Can’t we just—’

  Marc gives me a sharp smack between my legs, and I yelp. ‘You, Mrs Blackwell, will learn self control if it kills me.’

  He pushes himself back into his trousers.

  I sit up on the desk. ‘Marc. You can’t just … this isn’t fair!’

  ‘It’s perfectly fair. And a valuable lesson. If I can control myself, why can’t you?’

  ‘You’re … you’re you,’ I say. ‘You’re not like other people.’

  ‘Anyone can learn self-control,’ says Marc. ‘As long as the mind is willing, the body will follow. But your mind isn’t willing.’

  ‘You never said that you were going to—’

  He frowns at me. ‘Do you think real life comes with warnings? Will you always know what the other actor is going to do?’

  I think of Benjamin earlier, and that unexpected kiss.

  ‘Okay, okay. I get it,’ I say. ‘But for today, can’t we just—’

  ‘No Sophia, we cannot.’ Marc pulls a script from his inside suit pocket. ‘Time to rehearse.’

  ‘What?’ I sit bolt upright.

  ‘Hurry up.’ He taps the script on the desk. ‘Do you remember page 51? Quickly now.’

  ‘I can’t rehearse now,’ I say. ‘I’m all … well … you know.’ I redden.

  ‘Well Mrs Blackwell. Let’s see what we can do to distract you. Remember the script. And say your line. Here. Maybe this will help.’ He throws my dress at me.