Lessons in Sin - Pam Godwin Page 0,9

the chair.

“That”—I motioned at her ramrod position—“is the posture I expect in my classroom. I’ll deal with your other transgressions later.”

Frozen in shock, her lips formed a pouty O.

Her hair, the palest shade of gold, reached nearly to her waist, fading to the color of cultured pearls as if naturally whitened by the sun. Long lashes swept outward from extraordinary wraparound eyes that were wide, light blue, and unduly striking. Add to that her small, pointed nose and delicate bone structure and she had a distinct elven look. A purebred beauty with a face that unveiled magic whenever she was provoked.

In thirty years, she would be exquisite beyond compare. The kind of allure that elicited intense reactions from the beholder.

Most men would find her desirable now, but I was one of the unconventional few who had a strong aversion to teenagers. Even when I was a teenager, I sought older women. An obsession that ultimately became my destruction.

I hadn’t been called to be a priest. Nine years ago, I chose this life as my penance. Celibacy confined the darkness inside me, and placing myself in a boarding school kept my cravings in check.

The faculty was comprised of priests, retired professors, elderly widows, and a few devout married couples. I surrounded myself with zero temptations.

Best decision I’d ever made, and perhaps, the only noble thing I’d ever done.

I wasn’t a kind priest. But I was an accomplished leader. Running this school allowed me to retain the one thing I needed above all else.

Control.

This small, sequestered corner of the world was my kingdom, and I knew how to deal with its wealthy, powerful families.

Like the one sitting before me.

“I agreed to your rules.” I stood directly in front of Caroline, forcing her to look up at me. “Because they are my rules. Every stipulation you put forth is written in the school’s handbook. You would know this had you bothered to read it.”

“Don’t you dare—”

“Read it. Acquaint yourself with how things are run here. I don’t care what your last name is or how you do business in your world, but you will not come into mine and make threats again. This is my domain, and the decisions I make are in the best interest of the students. I will not cater to the demands of the Constantines. Not mother nor daughter nor any of the assistants, lawyers, bodyguards, or other minions you send my way.” I clasped my hands behind me, relishing the stiffness in Caroline’s shoulders. “If you have a problem with that, show yourself out and take your daughter with you.”

They could stay or go. It made no difference to me. My class load was light this year. Either I would have a lot of free time on my hands or the bulk of my days would be allocated to Tinsley Constantine.

No question the girl would be a full-time job.

And no surprise she had something to say about it. “Are the bars on the windows in the best interest of your students? Do you provide straitjackets, too, so we can’t stab out our hearts in misery?”

I didn’t acknowledge her, didn’t so much as glance her way. I held Caroline’s gaze, waiting for her decision.

“I was right about you.” She gathered her purse and phone and stood, facing me toe-to-toe. “Hard and uncompromising. Exactly what my daughter needs.”

Translation: I won’t go easy on the girl.

She was right about that.

“Tinsley.” Her tone announced her departure, cold and dismissive, as she strode to the door. “I expect a satisfactory report from Father Magnus.”

There was no farewell. No glance back at the child she’d brought into the world. Just the rapid staccato of heels on polished boards fading down the hall.

The sound of tough love.

It wasn’t a bad parenting approach and definitely had its place. But if tough love was all a child received, it didn’t work.

I turned my attention to the girl, her posture stick-straight and head angled away from the door. I didn’t need to see her eyes to know they were blinking back tears.

Sadness, anxiety, fear. In about three seconds, she was going to channel all that into anger and direct it at me.

Three.

Her breathing quickened.

Two.

She clenched her hands.

One.

“Send me home.” She twisted to face me, her words rushing out. “I don’t belong here. I’ll never believe in your outdated religion or follow your stupid rules. You’ll regret every second that I’m here. So tell her you changed your mind. Go before she leaves. Tell her I’m not a good