First to Fail (Unraveled #3) - Marie Johnston Page 0,11

use it to…” He gave a helpless shrug and shot her a small smile. “She’s third generation at Preston Academy.”

Was it bad that it showed? In my experience, the kids whose families had a history with the school had what I’d come to call “entitlement syndrome.” They should’ve tried growing up the kid of the school’s founders. That sense of entitlement would’ve been knocked right out of them by the other students.

“It’s clear she’s working through stuff. I don’t want to expel her.”

“I know.” He rubbed his eyes and sighed. “Did you buy that at Arcadia?”

A burst of alarm went through me when he pointed to her prism. “Yes, actually. Wasn’t that the booth you were working at?” My cheeks flooded with heat at the reminder of our kiss.

“Yes. I work at Arcadia.”

I cocked my head. How did a guy who worked at a comic book shop afford private school tuition? Preston Academy didn’t do scholarships for students who couldn’t propel them toward sports championships—and wouldn’t as long as my father had a say.

He gave me a wry grin. “How does a single dad who isn’t a lawyer, bank president, or international something or other send his daughter to school here?”

I chuckled. “Yes, I was wondering that.”

“Her grandparents foot the bill. It was a concession they made when her mother gave up on raising her. I agree to send her here and they cover tuition and won’t fight me for custody.”

“But you’re her father.”

“Yep. But they’re loaded and I was too naïve when I was younger. Look, I know I’m not winning Dad of the Year, but Jaycee would have free rein at their place. She’d have the same personality as her mother and lack the character to follow through with challenges when the going gets tough.”

And if she got kicked out, they’d fight him and he wouldn’t be able to keep Jaycee. Wouldn’t that mess with her head more? To feel like her dad had given up on her, too?

“I’m sorry, Chris. I really am. We’ve been going through some growing pains. The schools have been successful, and they don’t always attract the people with the best morals to run them. I’m the one they bring in to clean the place up. Part of that is assuring our standards are maintained. That includes discipline.”

He watched me for a heartbeat. I shifted in my seat. His intense scrutiny created another flush under my collar that went south. How could I be getting turned on just from him looking at me—in my office!

“Natalia—Ms. Shaw.” He said my first name like a caress. Did I look as panicked as I felt? “Can you let me know immediately if Jaycee even seems like she’s going to have more problems? I really need to avoid a legal battle with her grandparents until she’s graduated.”

No favoritism. But instead of a rejection, I said, “Sure.”

Was he my kryptonite? Seven years of strict ethics and I was caving to one plea from a guy who’d made my toes curl with a kiss.

Not that it could ever happen again. Some days, I hated my job.

Most days.

I glanced at the prism. “Um, Chris. People here don’t know about my hobby.”

“Cosplay?”

I adjusted my shoulders and my gaze darted to the door. “I’d like to keep it private. It’s hard to be the boss when they think—”

“—you’re a geek?”

Geez, that felt so wrong to admit. But I wasn’t known to dress up for Halloween anymore. I did, Halloween or not. But no one knew about it.

“Yeah, I get that. You notice Jaycee wasn’t at the convention helping me work the booth?”

“I’m surprised. With all the blockbusters, it’s not as if being a fangirl or boy is the kiss of social death it used to be.”

“My guess is that the boy making her late for class isn’t into it.”

Ah yes. At least he wasn’t totally ignorant about the factors affecting her behavior.

He straightened, a mix of defeat and determination on his face. “I’d better get back. Mara’s covering for me and we start getting busy once school lets out.” His wry smile reminded me of Saturday when we’d chatted over gyros. “Not all kids are ashamed of their interests.”

I squashed my dismay down and stood up. I was an adult who kept more secrets than an undercover agent, but he wasn’t the type to slip a subtle dig in when I’d asked him to keep my secret. But then, how would I know? Talking to him for an hour and making out