Lessons in Sin - Pam Godwin Page 0,31
I thought about it, I’d never been this eager to converse with a student. Her rapid-fire quips and witty rejoinders kept me sharp and thinking on my toes. Given her test scores, it was no wonder. It would undoubtedly be a long year of stimulating conversation and verbal sparring.
She pivoted back toward my desk, her gaze drawing a path from my lips to my collar before darting to my eyes. “How long have you been a priest?”
“I was ordained four years ago.”
“So you haven’t had sex in four years?”
“Nine. I entered seminary and discernment nine years ago.”
“Nine years without sex?” Her eyebrows crawled to her hairline. “In all that time, you haven’t slipped up even once? Haven’t given in to the baser needs of human nature?”
“Not once.”
This line of questioning was nothing new. It’d been asked by hundreds of curious students and parents before her. So when she voiced the next question, I was ready for it.
“Why did you become a priest? And don’t give me a canned response. I already know you were a self-made billionaire and New York’s most eligible bachelor.”
All common knowledge. She only needed to put my name in an internet browser to learn the highlights of my illustrious career. I had no secrets, save one, and that lay buried beyond anyone’s reach.
“Before I chose this path, I was a wealthy businessman. I was raised Catholic, went to Catholic school, and endowed this boarding school with a lot of money because I have a personal connection here.”
“What personal connection?”
“Father Crisanto has been my best friend since childhood.”
“So he suckered you into a life of celibacy?”
“Do I look suckered, Miss Constantine?”
“Good point.” She pursed her lips. “But you have had sex, right? You’re not a virgin?”
“I’m not a virgin. When I reached my thirties, I made a conscious decision to do more with my life, to be more.”
“And you thought, Hey, why don’t I become a penniless, sexless, heartless teacher?”
“I donated my wealth and my life to this school because I wanted to become a shepherd.”
“And we’re your sheep.” She slowly inhaled through her nose and chewed on the inside of her cheek.
The answers I gave were honest, with one crucial omission. The secret I would take to my grave.
“That’s very noble of you, Father Magnus. I suppose you’re a better human than me.” She planted her hands on the desk and leaned in. “But that doesn’t mean you’re better at making decisions regarding my life. What becomes of me here, this year, impacts my entire future. Look at me.” She pointed at her face. “Look closely at my eyes, my expression. You’re staring at a woman who longs for one great passion, and always it lies beyond the next asshole.”
“If you’re calling me an asshole—”
“You’re the biggest one yet. But guess what?” She bared her teeth. “I want this more than you do.”
“You want what exactly? What is this one great passion?”
“Anything. Everything. Independence, self-discovery, romantic love, spiritual or professional fulfillment—whatever it is, it’s mine.” Her rasping breaths fell in a beguiling tumble of sounds, striking the air with tenacity. “The passion is in pursuing the life I want, and no one is going to take that from me.”
“Very well.” I gathered the papers on my desk and opened my laptop. “You can long for your one great passion while you’re on hands and knees scrubbing the floor of my classroom.”
“What? Why?”
“Zero tolerance, Miss Constantine.”
“Zero tolerance for what?” She gripped the edge of the desk. “Was it the asshole comment?”
“The comment, the attitude, the blatant disrespect.” I kept my gaze on the screen, dismissing her. “You know where to find the bucket and cleaning supplies.”
“Disrespect?” She laughed mockingly. “It’s called a backbone, and it’s pronounced, Go fuck yourself.” She spun away and stormed toward the door. “Scrub your own goddamn floors.”
I was out of the chair before the last part left her mouth. My longer strides beat her to the door, and as she reached for the latch, my hand was already on the wood, holding it closed.
Her breath caught audibly, and she slowly turned her neck. Her gaze landed on my legs and inched upward, sneaked a drive-by glance at my groin, and skated to my chest. The narrow gap between us forced her head to tip back, back, back, until a constellation of dainty, bewitching features filled my horizon.
The air buzzed with tension and animosity.
Then, with a twitch of her lashes, those blue eyes, both hot and fearful, locked on to mine. “Either send