Saviors: A Reverse Harem Bully Romance (Pawns of Patience Book 4)

by Cassie James

  “Juliet?”

  There’s a long pause before he tries again.

  “Juliet?”

  I whip my head around, looking back at the man sitting across the desk from me. There are things you notice about a person when you spend enough time trying to ignore them. In this case—it’s the suit. Everyone in Patience is well-dressed, to the point I’ve learned to recognize a well-tailored suit with barely a second look.

  Which is why it stands out so much that Dr. Peterson’s suit is so ill fitting. The sleeves are too tight. The pant legs too long. The professors at The Patience School manage to afford to dress well, so why wouldn’t he dress well, too? Something’s seriously off.

  “It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about your loss. There are other things we could talk about. Your classes. Your friends. Dating.” Dr. Peterson would be terrible at poker. His voice raises just slightly at the end. Jax’s words haunt me all these months later. “Peterson isn’t trustworthy, and everyone besides you already knows it.” He couldn’t give me any reason other than that everyone gets a weird feeling about the guy. But the longer I sit here with him, morning after morning for the past six school days, I start to understand. I get a weird feeling about the guy, too. There’s just something… off about him. Like he’s trying too hard, but maybe not trying hard enough all at once.

  “I didn’t realize you found teenage girls’ dating lives so fascinating.” I raise a challenging eyebrow that makes him shift uncomfortably in his seat. After a week of these mandatory counseling sessions, I’ve gotten good at figuring out how to throw him off his game. He balks at any insinuation of impropriety. Like he only has the most tenuous control over his position at the school, like any insinuation of wrong-doing will be his undoing.

  It was Sadie that gave me the head’s up. She’d been released from her own mandatory sessions after one well-placed comment asking Dr. Peterson if all his interest in the specifics of her partying habits was intended to make her relapse. The guy might be careful about not doing anything that could be deemed too inappropriate, but he’s suspiciously interested in our lives. It makes me uneasy, and I want out of these counseling sessions. Nothing’s worked yet, though, despite my best efforts over the past few sessions.

  Dr. Peterson clears his throat and tries again. “I’m here to talk about whatever you need to talk about, even if it’s not about your aunt’s passing. We can talk about the way school’s going, or how you’re interacting with your peers if that’s what you need. That’s all I’m trying to say, Miss Lexington.”

  He shifts in his chair to reach for my file positioned carefully at the edge of his desk. Another bad poker move. He thinks reaching for my file is going to be intimidating, but all it tells me is that he’s grasping at straws. I’m sure he thought I’d give in and tell him something by now. I’m not sure if I have Patience or Nikon Park to thank, but a few days with a man in a bad suit aren’t enough to make me crack. I don’t want to tell this guy anything, I wouldn’t even if I hadn’t gotten that warning from Jax last year or the ones I got from the guys this morning when I couldn’t manage to convince Headmaster Dupont to let me off the hook.

  He flips through my file as if there’s actually anything to see there. Thanks to Patrick, I know there isn’t. Aside from the attendance issues in Nikon Park, my files are completely clean. I’ve been careful since I’ve been here. At first I just didn’t want to disappoint Pearl, and even though she’s gone now, something about upholding the Lexington legacy for her sticks with me. I’m not going to give anyone a chance to question my place—and if that means sticking around The Patience School while Dr. Peterson tries to get me to talk about my grief, then so be it. But I’m not going to make it easy for him.

  “What about your parents? Do you want to talk about them?” I thought his file looked a little bigger than it should have. He probably has news articles galore stuffed in there. What the hell is wrong with this guy, seriously?

  I point to my unimpressed face. “Does it look like I want to talk about my parents?” I nod to the wall behind him where his diplomas are hanging. “Maybe we can talk about why a man with a doctorate in psychology from one of the best universities in the country would decide to work as a high school counselor.”

  His shoulders stiffen just slightly, but I’ve been watching closely enough that I notice. There’s something else I notice, too. For just a split second, his eyes drift toward the bookshelf in the corner. There’s nothing particularly noteworthy about it—just a bunch of psychological workbooks and other bullshit that I’m sure he thinks makes him look smarter. My eyes drift down, taking stock again in case I missed anything the last five consecutive sessions I’ve had in here. The only things that stand out are the binders. There’s one for every year he’s been here. I didn’t think anything of it before because every other teacher in this building has a similar system. The Patience School might be top notch, but it’s also traditional enough that there are still plenty of things here that haven’t been digitized just yet.

  I can’t imagine what kind of paperwork he’d be keeping that I would care about. Unless maybe it’s about Cece. Or the boys. I study him, waiting to see if he’ll give anything else away, but his face is completely blank now, and he only looks straight ahead at me.

  “I didn’t come from money, Miss Lexington,” Dr. Peterson divulges. “A place like this,” he gestures around him, “would never have welcomed me with open arms when I was your age. So I guess, in a way, I had something to prove as an adult. That I belonged here as much as anyone, and now here I am.” If he’s looking for sympathy, he won’t find it here. Every word comes out over-pronounced, as if he’d practiced this short speech in front of the mirror. Like he was expecting to eventually have to justify himself to someone—or maybe just to me.

  I purse my lips for a moment as I consider his words. “Sounds like you’ve got something to prove.” Even if his practiced words are the truth, it doesn’t quite explain why he’s so overly invested in the lives of the students he meets with. Something just doesn’t add up. The uneasy feeling flares back to life in my gut, and I fight the urge to twist in my seat. The last thing I’m going to do is let him see me sweat.

  He seems uncomfortable as he shoves my folder aside again and pushes his chair back to stand. “Since we don’t seem to be getting anywhere today, Miss Lexington, I think we’ll call it a day.” Dr. Peterson pauses just long enough that I start to get my hopes up that he’s going to put an end to these sessions for good. Instead he tacks on, “But I’ll see you again tomorrow, same time.” I grumble under my breath as he says some dumb slogan about choosing what kind of day I have.

  Normal people would just say goodbye.

  Dr. Peterson is trying way too hard.

  A weight is lifted off my shoulders as I shove out of the counseling office door into the main hallway. I’ve survived another day with the odd man without giving anything away. I start down the hallway as Jax pushes off the opposite wall and falls into step beside me. “How’d you get cut loose early?”

  I glance behind us as we keep walking, leaning against Jax to let him guide my steps. At the opposite end of the hall, Dr. Peterson is standing outside his office, arms crossed as he watches us walk away. He sees me notice him, though, and turns to go back inside his office.

  “I was the better poker player,” I belatedly answer Jax’s question.

  “What?” He looks at me like I’ve lost my mind, but I just smile and wave his questions off. Things have been slightly off with us still after the confrontation about Jake’s role in my life. I keep trying to let things go back to normal, but that feeling we had before, where Jax and I just somehow seemed to travel on the same wavelength, it just isn’t there now. I know it’s my fault, because I keep getting caught up on every little thing, afraid that things will fall apart again the second I do something else that bothers him.

  It’s making things weird between us, and I know he notices it, too. Which is why I’m
not surprised when he tugs me into a side hallway and puts my back against the wall.

  “You’re mad at me.” I shake my head. “Juliet…”

  “I’m not mad, Jax. I swear. It’s just been a long couple of weeks and I’m all out of sorts. Things will be back to normal in no time.” I rise to my toes to kiss him, wrapping an arm around his neck so I can get fully into it. If there’s one thing that’s good no matter how bad everything else is—it’s this. My body was made for him in the worst kind of way.

  Someone whistles, breaking the spell between us. Jax pulls away with a ragged breath and buries his face in my neck instead. He nibbles gently at the skin for a second before I push him away, knowing that if I let him keep going he’s definitely going to end up leaving a mark that I’ve got no way of hiding. He grins with mischief written all over his face, and even though it tells me he knew exactly what he was doing, the smile is infectious.

  He whispers into my ear, “Maybe we could sneak away at lunchtime, make up for all the missed time we’ve had recently.” I’ll admit he’s not the only one thinking about how long it’s been since we last had sex. It doesn’t help that I can feel him half-hard already as he leans into me.

  “We’re at school, Jax. I wouldn’t exactly consider this place a beacon of privacy.” Despite how many times Jax has tried to push the limits here, I don’t actually want to get caught having sex in the middle of a school day. That’s one kind of mortification that I definitely don’t need.

  “Patrick has keys to the building.” Jax raises his eyebrows suggestively. “I could pinch them, lock ourselves into a utility closet for a quickie.” I laugh at the suggestion even though I have no doubt he’d really do it if he thought I would actually go along with it.

  I shake my head. “It’s definitely a no. I’m not having sex with you in this building. Not ever.” I mean it, too. There’s no way in hell I’m risking it with Jax, but it does give me a whole other idea. Patrick raised a private concern when we were hanging out yesterday, and now I know exactly what to do to fix it.

  Chapter Six

  “What are we doing here?” Patrick asks, his eyes scanning the front of the building and then glancing back at the road behind us. We’re not really supposed to be here. The building is closed for the break and there’s nothing going on to warrant us being here. Especially not this late in the evening.

  “You’ll see.” I bite my bottom lip to stop from laughing as a look of concern crosses over his face. I know he’s worried about getting in trouble, but that’s half the fun. “A little birdie told me your dad gave you a set of keys for the building so you could stay late to work on the yearbook.”

  “Yeah,” he says slowly as he draws his keys out of his pocket. “But I’m not supposed to have anyone here with me.”

  I tilt my head and offer him a soft smile. “You know what I’ve always thought was weird? That my school in Nikon Park had security cameras all over the place, but a school like this? Where there’s actually stuff worth stealing? Not a one.” I pointedly gesture up at the building where cameras would be if they had any.

  Patrick laughs. “No one in Patience would ever...” He pauses, catching on. “Oh.” He hands his keys over to me. I give him a funny look and he smirks. “If we get caught, I want to be able to blame you for everything.” He laughs as I roll my eyes at how dramatic he’s being. It’s not like we’re here to wreak havoc. With what I have planned, I have a feeling getting caught would be more embarrassing than trouble-inducing. Still, I skip the rest of the way from our front row parking spot to the front doors with his keys in hand.

  He moves a little slower, and I’m not sure why until he steps behind me and skims his hands along the back of my legs and the hem of my skirt. “Your skipping just gave me quite the view,” he teases as he brushes my hair aside to kiss the back of my neck. I know that the panties I’m wearing barely cover my ass—I did that on purpose.

  “At least let us make it into the building before you start getting fresh with me,” I joke. “What kind of girl do you think I am?”

  The mood somehow turns serious for a second as I unlock the front door and Patrick pulls the handle to hold it open for me. “You’re playful today,” he notes. He doesn’t seem like he’s complaining, but he does seem surprised. After all the dark clouds we’ve dealt with these past weeks, it feels so fucking good for things to be a little lighter.

  “I’m just happy,” I admit. “And a lot of that is thanks to you. You were the one person ready to support me when it felt like things were falling apart again, and even though I didn’t exactly show my appreciation in the moment, I’m ready to show my appreciation now.”

  He looks at me with soft eyes as he takes my hand while I lead the way to the front office, and then through the front office to his father’s office door. He hesitates for only a second before I’m pushing the door open, leading a suddenly much more reluctant Patrick as if he’s transformed into a lamb heading to slaughter. “I’m happy, too,” he responds to my statement from a moment ago, but he looks anything but at the moment.

  He doesn’t look thrilled about our surroundings as I take my time drinking it all in. Headmaster Dupont’s office is so tidy it could pass for a doctor’s office if it wasn’t for the big wooden desk in the center of the room. I’ve barely spent any time in here, and I feel like I’m seeing it with fresh eyes anyway, now that I’m fully intending to have sex with the headmaster’s son in this very office.

  “Here? Really?” He glances around like he’s expecting to get caught any second.

  I nod, trailing my fingers over the buttons of his shirt. “You wanted to go somewhere I’d never go with anyone else. I can’t imagine the other guys have a key to the headmaster’s office.”

  “Don’t act like I’m the only one that made that request. What were your exact words again? Oh right, ‘Tell me all the places you haven’t whored yourself out around here.’ Wasn’t that it?” He grins but takes another look around the enclosed space. He might actually be more nervous in here than he was when we were doing the actual breaking in. Though, I’m not sure if it can be counted as breaking in when you have a key.

  “I was joking!” He raises an eyebrow that makes me concede with a smirk, “Mostly.”

  He chuckles low in his throat as his eyes skim down over my outfit. I’m wearing my school uniform even though it’s a Saturday—just trying to commit to the fantasy. “Are you sure this is a good idea?” he asks for what feels like the millionth time.

  “Are you trying to scare me off? Afraid you won’t be able to get the job done?” I raise an eyebrow in challenge. I didn’t realize he would be so nervous about all of this. He reaches over to pinch me.

  “I’ll admit, I have a tendency to overthink things. But I don’t want to fuck anything up. You don’t have to do this for me.” His words make me laugh. He’s crazy if he really thinks my motivations here are anything but selfish. I would go anywhere in the world right now if it meant we’d finally take this next step together. Patrick eyes his dad’s workspace with a sudden hesitation. “Maybe we should discuss some ground rules, at least,” he suggests.

  “Okay, I’m listening,” I say mostly just to appease him. I have no intention of following any rules that keep me from getting what I’m here for. As far as I’m concerned, my formal corruption of Patrick Dupont began the second I talked him into breaking the rules by handing over his keys.

  “I am not doing anything in my dad’s chair. So if you’re harboring some weird, secret fetish for my father, I should warn you now that I’m not falling for it.” He glances over to the chair again like he thinks it’s going to attack him or something.

  I walk around the desk and put a hand on each of the chair’s armrests. Patrick frowns at me, honey eyes narrowing as I bend over, purposely wiggling my ass towards him. “Don’t worry,” I say, giving the chair a good shove so that it goes spinning on its wheels to the opposite side of the room. “I’ve got plenty of ideas that don’t i
nvolve that chair.”

  I hold eye contact as I slip up onto the edge of the desk, parting my legs in what I hope Patrick realizes is an invitation. This certainly isn’t his first rodeo, though at this particular moment he doesn’t look at all like the playboy I know he was before I came along and changed everything.

  He slowly inches toward me, but his eyes aren’t focused on me. I follow his gaze to a picture frame sitting up on the edge of the desk. It’s an old photo of him as a kid with his parents. “That’s sweet,” I comment, being genuine. I certainly didn’t grow up with parents that did that kind of thing. I can’t help but giggle a little when he shoots me a pinched look, obviously put off all over again to see that picture there.

  “Ugh.” He reaches over and slams the frame down flat on the desk—which only makes me giggle harder.

  “Patrick, come here.” I put my hands out to him and wiggle my fingers until he comes close enough to take my hands into his. “You’re focusing on the little details instead of seeing the bigger picture.” I watch his eyes dart around and realize he’s taken me literally and is looking for an actual bigger picture. I roll my eyes discreetly as I explain, “I mean me. I’m the bigger picture.”

  His eyes soften and come to rest on me again as he seems to realize just how weird he’s being about all of this. He ducks his head as he rubs the back of his neck.

  “I just want things to be perfect,” he admits. “This feels like maybe a cheesy mistake, coming here. I’ve fucked around in strange places before but... I don’t want to disrespect you, Juliet. You’re more than a quick hook-up. Maybe we should do this right. In a bed with candles and shit.”

  His words knock me down a peg, reminding me all about how sensitive Patrick has been about his reputation ever since things got serious with us. I didn’t miss the way he snapped at people who reminisced about his playboy ways at first even once we’d gotten together. I guess I just assumed because I hadn’t dwelled on that, that he hadn’t either. It’s so easy sometimes to get so wrapped up in my emotions that I forget the guys all have real feelings and insecurities of their own.