CHAPTER ONE #2
“I don’t care if he’s Mother Theresa,” I say, irritation spiking. “And quite frankly, I find your organization’s inability to accept my refusal worrisome. If I continue to be harassed by your office, and that is what this is becoming, harassment, I will file a restraining order. Is that clear?”
Agent Gates releases a long, labored breath. Seriously? If anyone should be exhausted, it’s me. Being chased for half a year by the Bureau is not as charming as it might seem. While I appreciate that they value my expertise, it’s like dodging an unwelcome fan club.
“Dr. Hadid, please—”
I hold my hand up, silencing her. “I’m in the middle of teaching a class. This was highly inappropriate. My answer is no, Agent Gates. If you’ll excuse me.”
I turn on my heel and march out of Dean Ambrose’s office. As soon as I open the door, the Dean staggers backward.
I snort. “If you wish to gain security clearance, Mr. Ambrose, I’d recommend not eavesdropping on conversations you are not privy to. It makes you appear untrustworthy.” With a sharp exhale, I tighten my high ponytail and round the corner, exiting the admin offices.
Ridiculous. Absurd. They’re the FBI. They have 35,000 employees in various departments, and they can’t find an adequate profiler? It has to be me? I am one person. I have my own life. My own schedule. I am not a tool that the Bureau can check out and borrow at their leisure.
As I make my way back to the lecture hall, my phone rings. I’d ignore it, but the specialized ringtone forces me to answer.
“What do you want, Amir?”
My brother clicks his tongue. “Saffy, why are you always so angry when I call? I’ve told you once, and I’ll tell you again: you need to get laid. It’ll solve all your problems.”
My jaw clenches. “What do you want, Amir? I don’t have time for this.”
Distance chatter and the clanging of dishes sounds from the receiver.
“Oh, nothing. I just wanted to chat with my little sister.” He yawns.
“My date has been in the restroom for ten minutes now. Either she’s snorting lines, which would make the rest of our evening very interesting, or the food isn’t sitting well with her, and my night is essentially ruined. I’m hoping for the former.”
I roll my eyes. “Or, perhaps she realized you’re a complete pig and snuck out the back.”
Amir snorts. “Oh, please. I could literally be a pig, and she’d still want me. We met on Vice. She’s just in it for gifts and money.”
“Yeah? And what are you in for it, Amir? Love?”
He expels a deep, rough laugh. “It’s Vice, Safia. I’m in for the sex.”
I purse my lips, scowling. He’s a successful, attractive man. I’ve never understood why he uses escort services. Daddy issues come to mind, but who am I to judge?
“I really don’t wish to discuss your sex life.”
“That’s fine,” he says, and I can hear him smirking, “let’s discuss yours instead.”
“Amir—”
“Why are you such a prude, Safia? You have no problems talking about murder and blood and guts and psychopaths, but sex is where you draw the line. Really? It’s a natural human act, little sister.
Plus, it’s good for your health. Mental and physical.
” He pauses. “Come on, let me set you up. I know a few men who would die to take you on a date.”
My life was easier before Amir tracked me down ten years ago. I didn’t know I had a brother. Brothers, technically, but I have no desire to contact my other half-siblings. Our father has been remarried multiple times, though, technically, I’m considered a bastard child.
My mother, Ekaterina, was only twenty years old when Daddy dearest knocked her up.
She was on vacation when it happened. By the time she returned to Russia, she was five weeks pregnant.
He sent her enough money to live an incredibly comfortable life, so she didn’t complain.
By the time I turned six, my mother knew I was different.
She shipped me to an elite boarding school, and I haven’t seen her since.
I may not have a mother figure, but I have five degrees and a doctorate.
You can burn money, but you can’t incinerate knowledge.
“I am not going on a date with one of your friends,” I seethe. “I know the type of men you’re friends with, Amir, and I have no desire to get tied up, choked, and whipped. Unlike you, my ideal first date isn’t a kink club.”
He clicks his tongue. “Club Hades is more than a kink club, Safia, it’s—”
“A way of life, yes, I’m aware.” I sigh, stopping in front of the lecture hall.
I lower my voice. “Do not try to push your deviant inclinations onto me, Amir. I do not wish to date. I do not need to date. Plus, I’ll have you know that a man is not required for, and oftentimes a hindrance to, an orgasm.
And trust me, I’m not lacking in that department. ”
“Oh…” Amir clears his throat, evidently uncomfortable. Men. So fickle. “Well, in that case—”
“I’ll see you for dinner later this week, Amir.” I pause, glaring. “And don’t you dare invite a friend.”
I hang up before he has a chance to reply. Sucking in a leveling breath, I open the door to the classroom and step inside, expecting to find my students and Miss Fleur engrossed in an academically charged discussion. But the hall is empty. Silent.
I take a hesitant step further into the room, and then I see him.
A man is sprawled in the first row, ankle hiked over his thigh, arms draped over the neighboring chairs.
His ink-black hair parts and swoops to the side, and thick-framed sunglasses rest on the tip of his sloped nose.
His plump, pink lip curls into a smirk as he tilts his chin down, peering up at me with eyes the color of precious topaz.
“I figured you’d say no,” he says, sliding off the sunglasses as he leans forward, forearms resting on his dark jeans.
My gaze flits around his apparel. A leather jacket is hardly appropriate attire for a field agent. Especially someone with a high rank. It doesn’t take long to piece it together.
“Good evening, Dr. Hadid.” He stands up, giving me a lopsided smile. “I’m Supervisory Special Agent Theodore Kane, and I’m here to win you over.”