Bringing my hands to her face, I cup her cheeks and keep my eyes locked with her. “It will never get out.”
“But Grayson –” she begins to argue, but I cut her off.
“Don’t worry about Grayson. I’ll take care of him. I know it’s hard right now but try to trust me.”
After a couple of seconds, she wets her lips, then says, “I’ll only consent to photos if they’re taken with my phone and I keep them. I’m sorry, I need to know no one else has access to them.”
I look at Mr. Cutler to see what he thinks but instead of arguing with Layla, he adds, “Gather every leaf and place it in a bag with everything you’re wearing right now.”
“Okay,” Layla answers quickly, relief softening the lines on her forehead.
Taking a deep breath, Mr. Cutler begins to walk toward the door. “Let’s go deal with Mr. Stateman.” He suddenly stops and looks back to Layla. “Unfortunately, life is filled with degenerates like Grayson. I apologize that this happened to you at Trinity Academy.”
I give Layla’s shoulder a squeeze then pick up the keycard from the coffee table. “I’m taking the card. I’ll be back as soon as the problem is taken care off.”
“Thank you.” The words are soft, but the grateful look on Layla’s face makes every unpleasant moment worth it.Walking into the suite I share with Mason and Lake, my eyes burn a hole through Grayson where he’s sitting on the couch. When he sees Mr. Cutler, he quickly gets up.
“Mr. Stateman,” Mr. Cutler says, his voice thick with disapproval. He walks over to the dining table and places his briefcase on it then opens it. “Come have a seat.”
While Grayson does as he’s instructed, Mr. Cutler looks at Lake. “Are you alright, my boy?”
Lake looks down at the blood splatters on his hands and shoving them behind his back, he nods. “Thank you for coming, Dad.”
Mr. Cutler glances at Mason.
“For a change, I’m the good one,” Mason jokes which has me shaking my head. Trust Mason to say something like that at a time like this.
“Hell will freeze over, and I was hoping to retire in a warm place, so let’s not horse around about you being good,” Mr. Cutler jokes back, and it helps to ease the tension in the room.
Clearing his throat, Grayson brings the attention back to himself. “Mr. Cutler, I know this looks bad, but I’d appreciate it if you could hear my side of the story.”
Mr. Cutler takes a document from his briefcase and sets it down in front of Grayson. “Mr. Stateman, if you wish to have legal representation present, then I recommend you call them now.”
“Legal representation?” Grayson asks, and his eyes dart down to the document. “Non-disclosure agreement?”
I go to stand next to Mr. Cutler, so the table is between Grayson and me because it’s hard talking to the bastard and not being able to kill him.
“After signing the NDA, you will leave the campus immediately and never set foot here again.” It’s the only option I’m giving him.
Grayson shoots up out of the chair but flinches in pain as he grabs his side. “Why should I be the one to leave?”
“If you don’t, I’ll leak your dirty little secret to every media house in this country,” I threaten. The footage I have of Grayson doing drugs with an underaged girl will be enough to damage his family name, if not ruin it.
“No one is going to bother to hear my side of the story? You’re all just going to believe whatever she said?”
The offended look on Grayson’s face has me grinding my teeth as I lean forward. Placing my hands on the table, I don’t hide my hatred for the bastard.
“This isn’t a hearing, and I’m not a judge. I don’t care about your side. Sign the form and get off our property before I lose the little patience I have left.”
“Wow.” Giving me a dark glare, Grayson holds his hand out. “Give me a pen.”
Mr. Cutler takes a pen from the inside pocket of his jacket, and as he places it on Grayson’s palm, he says, “I’m not sure what the boys have on you, but like Falcon stated; this isn’t a hearing. Be forewarned, Mr. Stateman. One wrong move on your part and we’ll have our next meeting in court.”
Grayson at least has the decency to look chastised, but then he knows he doesn’t stand a chance against us. He signs the document before dropping the pen on it.
“If I leave, I want the video,” he dares to demand of me.
“You’re in no position to make demands,” I cut him off. Picking up the document, I hand it to Mr. Cutler. “Thank you so much for coming. Let me walk you out.”
“My boy, give your mom a call. She’ll only stop worrying once she hears from you,” Mr. Cutler says to Lake as he closes his briefcase.