DEBORAH'S POV
I stormed into principal Ernest Brook's office, slamming the door with enough force to rattle the frosted glass. The muffled voices in the hallway fell silent.
"What the hell was that?" My knuckles whitened around my purse strap, blood pounding in my ears.
Principal Brooks didn't flinch. His eyes flicked up from the budget report spread across his desk, his expression maddeningly placid. He rolled back his French cuff, revealing the scratched Rolex I'd given him last Christmas.
"Don't—" I lunged forward, snatching his polyester tie. The fabric slid between my fingers as I yanked him closer. "Don't you dare play stupid with me, Ernest."
His cologne – too much sandalwood, too little subtlety – filled my nostrils.
"Deborah." My name on his lips sounded like an exhausted prayer. He exhaled slowly, eyes crinkling at the corners with that infuriating smirk. "If you keep manhandling me like this, I might just get confused again about your intentions."
