DAHLIA ALDRIDGE
There was nervous energy under my skin as I stood outside of the classroom, hesitating to go in, my fingers tightening on my camera bag as Dermot’s fingers smoothed over my back. I turned into him, letting out a startled squeak as someone walked past us. Dermot’s gaze tracked their movement before looking back down at me with affection. There was so much heat there as well that it actually had my heart stuttering, my brain still finding it a bit impossible that someone like Dermot—heck, any of my boys—were into me.
“Maybe this isn’t a good idea.” I inhaled sharply. I knew why I was nervous, and it had nothing to do with class. No, this purely had to do with the fear that someone would bring up the social media incident, and honestly? It wouldn’t surprise me. We had caused quite the scene this morning alone when we’d arrived on campus.
We weren’t exactly being subtle.
“Baby girl,” Dermot spoke softly, “you have no reason to be afraid. I am right outside this door. This building is surrounded by FBI agents and our security team, and every person in your class, down to the teacher, has been through a full review. I promise you that no one is going to cause an issue. Just go in there and enjoy learning about photography, and when you’re done we can go home and I’ll distract you more.”
“Distract me?”
He stepped into me, and I leaned against the wall outside of the classroom, looking up at him. His fingers ran over my waist and played with the edge of my skirt as he bent down to brush his nose against my own.
“Oh yes.” He pressed his lips against mine gently as my body broke into a flush.
“Dermot.” My voice was breathy. “You can’t—”
“Can’t what, baby girl? Appreciate this fucking skirt you decided to wear? Have been all morning.”
Lord. I could not handle Dermot when he was like this, his full attention completely on me and his energy focused on turning me into a puddle of need.
“I can’t go into class if you keep doing this. My face is literally pink!” I murmured as he looked over my face, his eyes filling with pleasure.
“Good.” He leaned forward again and molded his lips to mine. There were three security guards in this hallway alone, and I knew there were at least ten outside. Overkill? Yeah, probably. I mean, we had literally driven to school in a freakin’ motorcade of dark SUVs.
Then again, I had a hit out on my head, so I couldn’t blame them completely. I had offered to not go to class to make it easier on them, and they insisted it would be fine, but I still felt guilty. I felt like I was somehow making it harder on them.
Maybe after this, I would stick to online classes… At least until the hit was no longer an issue. Or maybe just my photography classes? It would only be twice a week, anyway.
“Dahlia, breathe.” Dermot was watching me as he pulled back from the kiss. “I can feel how tense you are. I don’t want you to overthink this, okay? I promise you that you’re safe.”
“I feel guilty, I feel like I’m making things more difficult—”
“No.” He shook his head. “Hiding away won’t stop these people. I don’t want you to live your life in fear. It’s our job to worry about that shit, okay? Let us do that.”
“Okay,” I whispered.
“Ms. Aldridge?” A feminine voice had me turning to find a woman, maybe in her mid-forties, with bright red hair, offering me a soft smile. “If you are ready, I would love to start class.”
Dermot spoke before I could answer. “You’ve been made aware of this situation, I assume?”
The woman looked at Dermot, wide-eyed, and nodded, paleing slightly. “Yes.”
“Fantastic.” Dermot nodded and looked down at me. “Go into class, baby girl. I will see you in an hour or so.”
I went on my toes and kissed him, following the teacher in, before looking back and seeing the dark and possessive look that flashed across Dermot’s face. My skin broke out into shivers, but I looked around the large classroom with massive windows that I entered.
I could see the men dressed in black suits standing around the building, and I nearly groaned, noticing that the other students, around ten in total, were staring at me with varying expressions. Mostly curiosity, but I saw annoyance there as well.
Wonderful. That was all I needed.
“Feel free to sit wherever you want, Dahlia. My name is Ms. Dempsey, let me know directly if you have any issues,” she insisted as I sat down at the closest seat available, next to a blonde woman around my age. Instead of giving me a weird look, she just offered me a small smile.
When the instructor started talking at the front of the classroom, I felt a streak of excitement go through me. The syllabus was being passed out, and I put my brown leather camera bag on the desk before taking out a notebook, cursing slightly that I didn’t have a pencil.
“Need a pen?” the woman next to me asked.
I had a feeling that she wasn’t from around here, and not just because of her northern accent. She was wearing a hoodie with leggings, and her hair up in this sporty ponytail. It wasn’t really my style, but it was super laid back, and honestly very refreshing since everyone looked like a clone around here. Really pretty, expensive, put-together clones… But still clones.