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Jenny nodded, and quietly—almost imperceptibly—said “yes.” She was nervous about meeting my dad, but even so she seemed incredibly out of it right now.

“And you went to Harvard University?” Jenny nodded again. “Most impressive. What did you major in?” 

Jenny looked up at my dad, but didn’t speak. I didn’t understand the look on her face. It was almost like she was angry with him for prying into her life, but that didn’t make a lot of sense. He was only asking basic questions to be polite. He already knew what she majored in because I’d told him at the bar, but it was his way of starting a conversation.

“Social studies,” Jenny replied, quickly looking back down at her plate.

I knew she’d been for a few drinks with Aaron, but I was starting to wonder how many she’d had. Usually after one or two drinks I couldn’t shut her up, but right now she looked like she just wanted to crawl into bed and go to sleep.

“She also took courses relating to international affairs,” I said. “Dad’s area of expertise is similar. Did you take any courses on cross-border business and corruption? Dad’s kind of the expert in that field.”

“No,” Jenny said. “Nothing like that.” 

Apparently she was going to be curt with me as well. Had I done anything wrong recently to upset her? Last time we’d spoken had been when we’d left the penthouse yesterday afternoon. I’d told her I needed today to myself because of the medication, but she’d always been okay with that. She wouldn’t be mad at me for anything relating to the illness, so it had to be something else.

Sheridan asked my Dad a question about his work and I used the opportunity to lean over and ask Jenny if everything was okay.

“Fine,” she replied.

“Clearly it isn’t,” I snapped, trying to keep a smile on my face in case Dad or Sheridan looked in our direction. “If I’ve done something wrong then we can talk about it later.”

“You haven’t done anything wrong,” she said. 

“Did Aaron have bad news?” I asked. Aaron was one of those guys who was so positive it was hard not to feel happy in his company. She usually had a great time with him and wouldn’t come back in a bad mood.

“No,” she snapped. “I told you, there’s nothing wrong.”

“Then can you please make a bit of effort.” I looked over at my Dad and saw him still engaged in conversation with Sheridan. “Dad’s come a long way for this dinner and you’re being rude.”

“Excuse me,” Jenny said, loud enough for everyone to hear. “I just need to go and get a glass of water.”

Jenny disappeared from the table and once she had left the room I told Dad that she was just having a tough time dealing with my illness and that’s why she wasn’t in a talkative mood.

“She’s always been a little quiet around strangers,” Sheridan added. He’d obviously noted her mood as well. “But I thought she’d moved past that after college.”

“That’s fine,” Dad said. “This whole situation is tough for everyone. Her reaction is completely understandable. Hell, I’m acting differently as well. I don’t usually drink over dinner, but I’m worried what will happen if I stop to let everything sink in. I know I’ll have to at some point, but if my son can handle what’s happening to him then I damn well should be able to as well.”

“I’m going to be fine, Dad,” I insisted. “In a couple of months this will all be over and we can carry on with our lives as normal.”

“I can drink to that,” Dad said, raising his glass. I raised my glass of water and tapped it against Dad’s and Sheridan’s. “Cheers.” 

Jenny came back into the room with a glass of water. She looked uncomfortably hot, even though the house was well air-conditioned. 

“Are you interested in soccer, Jenny?” Dad asked. “I imagine it’s tough to work for a soccer club if you don’t have a passion for the game.”

“It’s okay,” Jenny said. 

Dad waited a few seconds expecting Jenny to elaborate on her answer, but she never did. “Well, if you decide you want to move on and work somewhere else then you should just let me know. I have a lot of connections, and they’re always happy to interview people with high GPAs from Harvard.

“I’m fine where I am,” Jenny said. 

Dad had been doing a good job of ignoring her tone of voice, but this time he looked visibly taken aback.

“Jennifer,” Sheridan said firmly. “Where are your manners tonight? I raised you better than that.”

“It’s okay, Sheridan,” Dad said. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Yes it does,” Sheridan continued. “Jennifer, if you can’t be polite then you should leave the table.”

“Fine,” Jenny said, standing back up again. “I wasn’t hungry anyway.”

She stormed off and this time I decided to follow her. “I’ll go and talk to her,” I said to Dad and Sheridan. “I think she had a tough day at work. She’s getting a lot of grief now that my transfer has fallen through.” 

Sheridan and Dad nodded, although they clearly didn’t believe the excuse. I left the dining room and heard Jenny’s door closing upstairs.

I burst into her room without bothering to knock. “What the hell was all that about, Jenny?” I yelled. “Do you have any idea how rude you were being in there?”

“I’m just tired,” she said, laying down on the bed and turning her back to me. “Just leave me alone, please.”

“Bullshit,” I exclaimed. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Your dad is what’s wrong,” she replied. She still wouldn’t look at me and I thought I could hear her crying gently.

“My dad? He just asked you a few basic questions to be polite. What’s wrong with that?”

“Not today,” she said.

“What do you mean ‘not today?’ Jenny, you’re not making any sense. Will you at least sit up and talk to me?”

She paused for a few seconds, but then pushed herself up into a sitting position on the edge of the bed and looked up at me. There was some redness around her eyes, although she didn’t appear to have started crying just yet.

“I didn’t know it was him,” Jenny said. “You have a different last name.”

“I took Mom’s name after the divorce,” I said. “I was living with her so it seemed to make sense. What does that have to do with anything?”

“Your Dad doesn’t just speak at conferences,” Jenny said. She took a sip of the water she’d brought up to her bedroom. “He also lectures at colleges sometimes.”

“Okay,” I said. “So what? He’s a big name in his field.”

“Did he tell you he also knows a lot about the Middle East?” 

“No,” I replied, frowning. “But I guess it makes sense. He’s worked with companies all over the world. He probably knows a bit about doing business there. Why?”

“He taught Middle Eastern Studies at Harvard a few summers ago. Jaxon, your dad was the professor who failed me. He was the one who touched me that afternoon. Your dad tried to blackmail me into having sex with him.”

I couldn’t even make it through dinner with Jaxon’s dad. I tried, I really did. No matter what he’d done to me in the past, the man was still Jaxon’s father and right now Jaxon didn’t need any additional grief. The last thing I wanted to do was spoil his relationship with the father who clearly meant so much to him. He already hated his mother; he needed at least one parent he could talk to through all this.

But Professor Kingsly hadn’t made it easy. If he had looked ashamed or embarrassed I might have made it to the end of the meal without having to storm out of the room, but he had sat there smiling and making small talk as if nothing had ever happened between the two of us. Dad had quickly bonded with the man as well which just made everything worse.

Professor Kingsly made my skin crawl and, as much as I wanted to put what happened to one side, I just couldn’t do it. The man had set me up to be alone in his house. He’d touched me, propositioned me, and then, when he didn’t get his own way, he’d failed me in the classes that meant the most to me. Now he had the gall to sit at the dinner table in my house and offer to help me get a fucking job.

How could this man be Jaxon’s father? Jaxon spoke of him like he was some kind of god, and credited him with helping him become a professional soccer player. I had no idea how he was going to handle the news of his dad being the professor who tried to blackmail me.

“Don’t be silly,” Jaxon said, after I told him. “That’s an awful thing to say.”  

I blinked in bemusement and stared at Jaxon. “That’s all you have to say?” I responded. “I tell you that your father blackmailed me for sex—which you seemed pretty angry about at the time—and you tell me not to be silly.”

I couldn’t believe his reaction. I expected him to be mad. When I’d first told him what happened he’d wanted to know the professor’s name so he could go and beat him up. I didn’t want Jaxon to hit his own father, but I did expect him to at least be angry at him. He seemed more annoyed with me than with his dad.  

If I’d told Jaxon the professor’s name in the first place, this dinner would never have happened. Withholding the information had seemed like a sensible thing to do. I’d never known Jaxon’s father’s last name, but if I’d told Jaxon the professor’s name we would have connected all the pieces before he showed up in my fucking house.

“Sorry,” Jaxon said. “I shouldn’t have put it like that. But obviously you’re wrong. Perhaps he just looks like him?”  

“Fucking hell, Jaxon, I think I know what the guy looks like. The man down there is Esmund Kingsly. Correct?” Jaxon nodded. “He has some experience with Middle Eastern affairs, especially concerning international transactions, and he lives in California. Stop me if I say anything that reminds me of your father.”

“Alright, alright,” Jaxon said, holding his hands up. “I guess he could have taught at Harvard for the summer. We don’t talk about his work that much, but he’s highly regarded in his field so it’s quite possible he taught there.”

“He definitely taught there,” I replied.

“Fine. Look, this must all be some big misunderstanding.”

“Misunderstanding?”  

“Yes. Perhaps you misinterpreted his friendliness as a sign of attraction. Dad’s a nice guy, but he’s not the type to force himself on young women.”

“Tricking me into coming to his home, touching me, and then blackmailing me wasn’t very friendly.”

“I thought you said he never touched you?” Jaxon asked.

“I said he didn’t touch any intimate part of my body, but he still touched me against my will.” Jaxon still didn’t sound mad; not like he had done that day at the soccer stadium. He sounded calm, like a counselor who just wanted to get the truth out of me. It was infuriating.

“You must have made a mistake,” Jaxon insisted.

“The only mistake I made was trusting that man, although I’m starting to think that trusting you was a mistake as well.”

“Don’t be like that. Look, it makes sense when you think about it. When you met my father you were in a vulnerable place. I’d betrayed you, and you were still hurting from that. Dad was a professor, so he had a position of authority. Maybe you fell for him, and were hurt when he didn’t show any affection in return.”

“Let me get this straight. You think
I
came on to
him
?”

“It’s possible that—”

My hand reached out and slapped Jaxon around the face with remarkable speed. My palm stung like hell after, but Jaxon barely moved. If he was in any pain he didn’t show it.

“Jenny—”

“Don’t. Don’t talk to me.”

I grabbed a backpack and threw a change of clothes in there together with my laptop and charger. I had to get out of this house. I had to get away from Professor Kingsly and away from Jaxon.

“Where are you going?” Jaxon asked.

“None of your fucking business,” I yelled.

“You can’t just go walking the streets at night.”

“Why not? Are you worried that I might come on to someone, and then accuse them of raping me? You don’t have the right to tell me what to do anymore.”  

I stormed out of my room, and grabbed my shoes before running out of the house. I didn’t stop to put my shoes on until I was out of sight of the house and far from Jaxon and his dad. The fact that Jaxon didn’t bother chasing after me told me all I needed to know about where his loyalties lied.

I’d expected the news to hit Jaxon hard, but I hadn’t expected him to ignore it entirely. The man had a huge blind spot where his father was concerned and apparently even I couldn’t make him look past that.