DECEPTION : (A student/teacher romance)

Seeing Rocco at the dining table with Matt was like a knife slicing through my heart, leaving it in shredded tatters and of no use to anyone. Slowly, it dawned on me that he knew who I was, and that hurt even more.

It felt like our time together had been a lie. All of it was a lie.

From the moment I met him, he’s been deceitful, and it’s something I’m unwilling to stand for any longer. After spending years being controlled by my husband, and ultimately betrayed, I refuse to let another man treat me that way, no matter how much his touch brings me to life.

I glance toward my son, once again the innocent party in a betrayal that will rock our family to the core, and anger floods my veins.

How could he do this to Matty? To me?

Every time he tried touching me during dinner, I pushed his hand away. Until he questioned Gerrard in my defense, and I felt like I had no choice but to relent and calm the situation down. Knowing how volatile Gerrard can be, I didn’t want Rocco or Matty caught in the crossfire.

When Gerrard insisted on me staying behind, I knew I had no choice. My shoulders relaxed the moment Rocco gave in to my plea for him to leave. Gerrard continuously pushes the charade of our son’s welfare as an excuse to communicate with me, but he and I both know he’s not interested in Matty; he never was. Our son is simply a pawn, and my heart breaks for him.

“Who the hell are you encouraging our son to hang around with?” he spits out the moment the door closes.

Before I can gather my words to tell him that Matty spends ninety-five percent of the time with him as per our court order, he changes his question.

“Why the fuck do you continue this?” He waves his hand in front of me, and I narrow my eyes. “I have money. Come back, and I’ll issue you a new black card.” His dark stare drills into me, and in the past, I would back down with the intensity of it, but now, I grit my teeth, pissed we’re going over old ground yet again. As always, the conversation is not revolving around our son as he suggested.

“I don’t want a black card, Gerrard,” I snap, then grab my purse from the floor and push my chair back, preparing to leave. My ass is halfway out the chair when he moves so fast I don’t see him coming. He jerks me by the arm and hoists me to my feet, then in a move I’ve become accustomed to, he leans down and presses his face into my neck, breathing me in, and my stomach rolls as the air from his nostrils creeps over me.

It’s not lost on me that his touch feels wrong, that the only touch I want is Rocco’s.

“We were good together, Hallie; you just need to give us another chance.”

Anger surges inside me as I push him back, but he remains unmoving. “I don’t need to do a damn thing, Gerrard. We’re divorced. You fucked another woman. It’s over.” He stiffens at the mention of him fucking another woman. He hates it when I bring it up and insists it never happened despite the photographic evidence hand delivered to me, on the morning of our anniversary, no less.

There was no denying his cock slipping inside another woman in the image, nor his cock down her throat, and no matter how much he protests his innocence, photos speak volumes, as does the woman paid off to keep her mouth shut to everyone else after I tracked her down. She identified his scar only someone who has been intimate with him would know of.

Gerrard’s father is the police commissioner and didn’t want his son’s indiscretions being made public, so I was summoned to a lawyer’s office where I was assured she wouldn’t be an issue any longer, as if that would make a difference in my decision to divorce his son.

He grips my breast to the point of pain. “You look like a whore in red.” I bite back the wince of hurt his fingers deliver and push against him harder, ignoring the way he grinds his solid cock into my stomach as I do. Sickness wells up inside me, and I whimper at his touch. This only seems to make him more determined as his grip strengthens, causing tears to spring to my eyes.

I raise my leg to deliver a swift knee into his balls, but his work phone buzzes on the table, and I use the distraction to shove him away, hating how I need a hot shower to scrub away his touch.

Without giving him a second glance, I rush toward the door.

In one night, my trust in Rocco has shattered along with my heart. With so much at stake, the decision I need to make soon feels heightened, like a heavy ball weighing me down, and I’m not sure how I can survive it.

Me and our baby.