Chapter Three: Caught

Nancy's POV 

We stepped into Elliot’s office about an hour before our class. Pamela rubbed both her palms together like a fly pitching for good food. But for me, I wanted an explanation.

I found the door was already locked from the inside, so I knocked softly, just once. The lock clicked open right away. Great; Pamela had already announced our coming. I rolled my eyes at her before stepping in first.

Elliot was in a good mood today. I could tell the moment I saw his face. His eyes were brighter than usual, the corners of his mouth turned up in a half-smile. How could I not notice this smile; the one from the club?

“Good. Good. Good girl. Pamela honey, you’ve done a great job. A deal is a deal.” Even though he was serious with his praises, I still saw the cunning man that he was.

“Thank you, Uncle… I should leave now…” she chirped. It was clear they were both planning my demise, and I would handle Pamela later. I immediately heard the locks clack from Pamela’s exit. I crossed my arms. My chest tightened from hatred.

“A deal? What do you want?” I reached for the chair to sit. At this point, he was clearly a client, not my professor. My nails clawed into my bag as I held it firmly to my chest.

“You,” he said. He was blunt, his face gentler, recognizable.

That night was a mistake; how hard was that to understand? Indeed, he was an old fool. I wondered if he knew that; knew what Pamela called him behind his back. He touched his sleeked black hair as if waiting for me to speak.

And I did. “Me? Why?”

“Don’t act stupid. I sent a specific message to you through my niece.”

There. There you have it. I wished I had recorded him saying that. I would have sent it to Nath right away, and then the school would have been in a fight. An imaginary giggle filled my stomach while I kept a straight face.

“My services ended after that night…”

“And what if I want it again?” he begged. This version of him was different. Now I giggled shamelessly. NANCY BROOKE, this man is head over heels for you. I knew my body would take me where my brain wouldn’t; Mother had always said the reverse version instead.

But no. As much as Pamela was a moron, I wouldn’t fuck her uncle. Besides, Nath would disown me.

“Again…?” I queried, almost curious. A part of me liked this; being the center of attraction, being needed.

“Constant, even.” This was a plea. He moved from where he sat and I stood up immediately in defense; the easiest move to run away if things got out of hand.

“Is that all? Because I am still yet to understand what you want, Elliot.”

He moved closer to where I stood, leaving no space between us. He placed his hands on my face, soft and rough. “You. Listen, Nancy, at sixteen, I lost my mother to cancer. She was the epitome of love, and I see that same love in you; pure and gentle.” His hands brushed my lower lip, and I knew I wanted it, maybe just one last time. My stomach was filled with butterflies.

Then he continued, “I worked to this position. I never bought it. And I swear that I would get your heart without buying it too. After that night, I haven’t been myself. I fear I have fallen for you.”

His lips met mine, but I broke off. In my head, I should run away, but my legs were cemented to the ground.

“Just give me a chance. I promise to be there. You don’t have to work in that club again. No more men. You would be free… as you are now… free to decide to love me or not.” He pulled me in again and planted a longer kiss.

His hands were all over me, sliding under my shirt and caressing my nipples, warm palms against my skin. His mouth soon found my neck, his breath hot and steady against my sweet spot. I dropped my bag somewhere near the desk and let him push me backward until my hips met the edge of the wooden surface. Papers shifted under me, and I think a pen rolled off and clattered to the floor, but I didn’t care.

His fingers traced patterns on my back, then moved lower. His mouth followed, pressing open kisses along my collarbone. I closed my eyes and let him take control as my body responded to him.

The crooked noise from the door interrupted us.

To Elliot, it was as if someone had interrupted a minor meeting instead of walking in on something that could destroy both of us. I pushed myself up from the desk on shaking arms.

Pamela’s mother stood in the doorway.

We knew each other. Funny how the innocent girl was fucking her brother now. She held a spare key in her hand. Her expression shifted from shock to recognition as her gaze landed on me.

I couldn’t move. My shirt was almost rucked up, my pants loosened, and heat flooded my face as I prayed for an earthquake to occur and instantly swallow me into the ground.

Her eyes moved from me to Elliot and back again. She tilted her head slightly and said in an almost gentle tone, “Are you the new toy he was telling me about?”

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. I looked at Elliot, waiting for him to say something; anything. To tell her she was wrong. To tell her to give me some privacy to change. To defend me in even the smallest way.

But he said nothing.

He simply reached for the unnoticed glass of water on the corner of his desk, took a slow sip, and set it back down. His face was neutral, almost bored, as if we were discussing a minor disagreement over grading curves.

Pamela’s mum stepped further into the room and closed the door behind her with a soft click. She looked at me again, her voice still precise, still calm.

“Whatever he’s told you in private,” she said, “you should know he is dangerous, and God loves you.”

She moved closer to me, held both my hands, and uttered bluntly with so much concern, “You’re a fuck buddy to him. Well, those were the exact words he uses. I’ve heard it before, child. Different faces, same story.”

She wasn’t being cruel. There was no venom in her tone. If anything, she sounded tired, like she had delivered this speech too many times already.

“I’m not telling you this to hurt you,” she continued. “I’m telling you because I love you as a child, since you were little. And I don’t want to watch it end the same way; ”

“That's enough, Renata,” Elliot snapped.

My chest felt tight and all I could do was give a small nod. Every word she spoke dug and twisted the knife deeper into my chest. I kept waiting for Elliot to interrupt, to say something meaningful. But he stayed silent. He leaned against the edge of the desk, arms crossed loosely, watching the exchange like a spectator.

I turned to him again. “Elliot?”

My voice came out small and pathetic, and I hated the way I sounded like a spineless coward.

He met my eyes. For a long moment, he just looked at me. Then he gave the smallest shrug, barely visible. “Renata, this isn’t the time for your crazy preaching.”

That was all he said.

Renata let out a short, humorless laugh. “It never is the time with you, is it?”

She turned back to me. “Listen to me carefully. He will keep you around as long as you’re convenient. As long as you don’t ask for more. The moment you do, the warmth disappears. Tell her, Elliot. Tell her about Mary, Paul, Daisy, Juliet, Evan. Tell her.”

I felt my stomach twist. Had any of it been real? Or had I been building an entire story in my head that Elliot had never agreed to write?

Elliot still said nothing.

I couldn’t breathe properly. My hands shook as I pulled my clothes back into place, fingers fumbling with buttons and zippers.

Renata watched me for a moment longer, then sighed. “You seem like a decent kid. Walk away now, before it gets worse. I'll call Pamela; you can pray together.”

I didn’t answer her. I grabbed my bag from the floor, slung it over my shoulder, and moved toward the door. My legs felt like stone as I struggled to walk.

Elliot finally spoke again, but only to his sister. “Renata, we’ll talk later.”

She didn’t respond to him. Her eyes stayed on me until I reached the door. I stepped into the corridor without looking back.