Savage Grace

13 - Grace

"Grace," a man called out when I stepped inside. His hair was thick and chocolate colored, the same as his eyes. He looked too young to be staff, but too old to be a student. "Grace Savage, correct?"

My brows pinched in confusion, and he held out his hand for me to shake. "I'm William Madden, guidance counselor. You're sponsored by Enzo Ransom. He's a good friend of our school."

"Y-yes."

"What brings you to my office? Been finding your way around okay?"

"Um, yeah. I just... I got sent to see the principal by the teacher."

"You don't peg me for a troublemaker." There was a glint in his deep coffee eyes.

I laughed, "I'm not. I swear. Trouble seems to find me."

He eyed me for a moment. "Want to talk about it? Principal Sanders is in a meeting, so he won't be able to see you." He took a step back, holding out his arm, showing me the way into his personal office. "I was meaning to meet with you soon. Introduce myself." I stepped inside the space, my eyes dancing around the room as he entered behind me, closing the door and muting the chatter of the secretaries.

"Please, have a seat," he offered as he circled his desk and sank down into his own tufted wingback chair.

I sank down in the seat, folding my hands together in my lap, my mouth feeling dry.

"What's going on?"

My eyes danced over the pictures on his desk, one of him in his graduation gown, another with what I assumed was his mother. And one of him on the beach with a woman. The surfboard in the image was propped against the wall behind him. "Someone sent me a message."

"Okay," his thick brows drew together as he leaned back in his seat, stretching his legs under his desk.

"It was... inappropriate, to say the least. But I was surprised and dropped my phone. So, it continued to play." I could feel my face burning, my eyes dancing everywhere but to him. "In front of everyone."

Mr. Madden rubbed his fingers along his tanned stubbled jaw. "Do you know who sent it to you?"

My eyes snapped to his before I sat up straighter, shaking my head. His gaze narrowed slightly.

"Grace, I'm well aware that some of the students here can be intense and even act like their wealth or power puts them above others. But it doesn't."

"I know it doesn't."

"But I can't help you if I don't know who they are."

I reached to my chest, fumbling with the necklace as silence stretched between us.

"Let me see it."

"What?"

"Let me see the message." He held out his large palm over the desk between us.

"I-I'm not sure you want to –"

"Grace, I promise you it's nothing I haven't seen before. And what we talk about in here is just between us."

I inhaled, my head feeling dizzy as I fumbled with my phone, pulling up the messages and placing it in his hand. His eyes flicked to me before he held the device up and clicked play. Immediately the sounds of moans filled the small space.

"Jesus Christ," he muttered, turning down the volume. His eyes met mine and I wanted to melt into a puddle on the floor. "That's not you, is it?" he asked. Then I saw his finger slide up, and I remembered the image of my ass as I was struggling to pick up the phone. His eyebrow rose.

I swallowed against the lump in my throat and shook my head as I took the device back from him. "Definitely not."

"So, I take it the..." he cleared his throat. "The male in the video is the person who sent it to you."

I shrugged.

"Your file shows the Ransom estate as your home of record. Why is that? No fixed address?"

"You've seen my file?"

He nodded, leaning back in his seat again. "You're the first student Enzo Ransom has ever sponsored. It piqued my curiosity."

"I live there."

"You live with Ryatt Ransom," he replied, not hiding the surprise from his voice.

"Oh good. You've heard of him," I deadpanned, causing the side of his mouth to curl up and a dimple to push deep into his cheek.

"That's very interesting," he replied.

"That's not the word I would use to describe it, Mr. Madden. Am I going to get in trouble for the video?"

"No," he shook his head, running his fingers through his hair that was a few inches long on top, and looked like it had been styled by the ocean breeze. "But you should delete it. If the other... participant is underage, you could get in trouble for having it."

"Oh, right," I started tapping on my screen, causing the video to autoplay again.

Mr. Madden rounded his desk, plucking it from my hand and quickly deleting it before handing it back to me and shoving his hands into the pockets of his slacks. He leaned back against the edge of his desk, next to my chair, looking down at me.

"How is it here? Besides the video," he asked.

"It's okay," I replied with a shrug, causing him to chuckle.

"That's not very convincing."

"It's just... different. I'm not used to this lifestyle."

"Well, look. I know I'm older, but I didn't grow up in this kind of place either. So, I mean it when I say I'm here to talk. There are also a few other sponsored students here that can relate to your experience."

"You're not that much older," I observed. "To be honest I thought maybe you were a student who failed a couple years."

That caused him to chuckle. "So, I look stupid. Great. I'm actually twenty-six, but thanks, I guess."

"I didn't mean it in a bad way."

"I know. It's not a big deal. I actually stopped shaving so people would take me seriously around here. To be fair, you don't look your age either."

"Really?" I asked, scrunching up my nose. "Compared to the other girls around here, I thought I looked like a little kid."

His eyes dipped below my face before locking back on mine. "Definitely not. And too smart to be hanging out with someone like Ryatt Ransom."

"It's not like I have a choice."

"Like I said, I'm here if you need to talk."

***