6. Irina
6
IRINA
H ow was he a professor?
The question stuck with me long after I left that lecture. Spotting such a sexy man at the podium had thrown me off. It wasn’t just that he was so hot, so attractive that he’d literally stolen my breath. More than anything, my uneasiness and lack of mental equilibrium was due to how he’d put me on the spot, calling me out, only me, among the hundred-plus students in that lecture hall.
I’d tried my damnedest not to look at him, certainly not when he could notice. I was a pro at masking my emotions, dammit. I was no amateur at hiding my feelings and making sure no one could ever claim that they could read me.
I had to. Developing this skill was critical when I had to live with Igor Petrov and constantly be his spy. This wasn’t a hobby or pastime. I’d furthered this ability to look blank and unaffected because it was the only way I could get through the life I was stuck with.
“Not again,” I grumbled as I headed out of the women’s locker room at the biggest and best gym on campus.
Not freaking again.
There he was. Professor Remi. He just had to come to this gym, at this hour. I’d never believed in coincidences, but if this wasn’t one, fate was throwing me a hell of a curveball to ensure I would encounter the sexy professor every which way I turned and looked!
It’d be easier to avoid him if he didn’t happen to be everywhere I went. It would be a manageable feat to prevent making eye contact if he didn’t show up on campus.
I saw him in the hallways in the building where English and theology classes were taught. Passing him by left me with a lingering sensation of a burn after his glare on me.
I saw him eating at my favorite café on campus. Trying to ignore his presence might have been possible if he hadn’t chosen the table directly across from me.
I saw him working on something in the grand library, jotting notes. Failing to remember a single line of the geology text I was trying to study was a moment of frustration.
Every. Freaking. Where. If the man wasn’t following me, something was up for him to constantly be near me like this. And he couldn’t have been following me. I would’ve known if he were. While my father’s guards kept a consistent distance from me, they were there. And they weren’t untrained idiots. If anyone was actively stalking me, they’d know, and they’d report on it.
As far as I could tell, Professor Remi was just… a professor. Dry, cool, emotionless, but so fine to gaze at. Particularly as he went through a series of reps near the free weight area. I was a “lazy” athlete, doing the bare minimum of a jog on a treadmill and dabbling with some calisthenic type moves that were probably actually Pilates maneuvers.
His muscles bulged and tensed as he lifted then lowered the dumbbells. When he moved on to the machines, more of his tendons and veins popped up and showed.
Compared to the younger men exercising around him, students my age, he looked so damn mature. Older, but not ancient. Powerful, but not hyped up on steroids and protein powder substitutes.
Professor Remi, whoever the hell he was beneath the icy demeanor and no-nonsense style of lecturing, was hot, buff, and experienced. Even in the gym, as he moved from one thing to another, it was so evident that he was a man at ease with his body, with his strength.
This man was no newbie. He wasn’t playing around and passing time. He was here to do business, and I couldn’t stop admiring his confidence and experience.
I couldn’t stop admiring him at all—until I had to. Mid-rep, he glanced up and made direct eye contact with me through the reflections in the mirror.
Caught staring, I couldn’t look away. Doing so would prove that he’d caught me. All I could manage was maintaining this eye contact, running on the treadmill and locking in on this blank expression so he wouldn’t know how much I lusted for him.
You bastard. You teasing bastard.
Not lowering his gaze as he lifted the dumbbell, he stared right back, trying to play my game of indifference. Or maybe it wasn’t indifference on his part. Maybe he really did loathe me and want me to see that almost-scowl of annoyance on his face.
Our stare-down only ended when a couple of girls approached him, asking him stupid, mindless questions about what he’d covered in our last class. Twice, I’d sat through his lectures, and twice, I’d had to refrain from rolling my eyes at the inane questions some of my classmates asked all so he would look at them and speak to them directly. That was how desperate they were to get his attention, how deeply he could distract the entire class from focusing on lessons.
Try as I might, I couldn’t shake the sexy prof from my mind when he showed up everywhere I went. Even off campus.
At the end of the second week of classes, I got word of a party happening at an apartment off campus. Parties weren’t my thing. They could look like my idea of fun, but I hated them. Going to any social events always came with the caveat that I’d be a spy for my father. Or I’d be a diversion for him while he carried on a meeting with a rival. I’d never attended a gathering or social event purely for the sake of just being there. In the same vein that I had to make “friends” for the sake of blending in and pretending to fit in so people would talk to me, I had to force myself into situations where others could think they were partying.
No matter where I went and what I was doing, it always had to serve a purpose for my father.
Tonight was no exception. After getting word that a man who dealt drugs would be hosting a party, I knew I had to go. So far, I wasn’t getting anything to report to my father. And he would ask. He would demand a report on what was happening on the drug front at campus. He would expect me to tell him what members of rival families were doing at the school.
And to date, I had nothing to tell him. Kelly wouldn’t say anything about Eva, and even if she hadn’t been closed-lipped and told me something, I’d fudge those details to make the “news” sound relevant. I wouldn’t go out of my way to save her. I wasn’t that much of a martyr, except where Maxim was concerned, but I wouldn’t let my father have any more intel about Eva or Lev. They deserved their happiness.
Maybe something will happen at this party and I’ll have something for him.
Even if it was just the usual same old of people buying and selling, the known users and dealers who’d already made their identities known on campus, it would be a nugget of intel.
For the first hour, as I had a beer and mingled and danced with a couple of outgoing girls I knew from a few of my classes, I realized I might have jinxed myself. Nothing was happening. This party—if it could be called that—was really low-key. Boring, even. Uneventful. Yet, I was glad I’d come to do my part and spy. If I didn’t, and if Igor thought I was slacking, he’d punish Maxim.
“Funny seeing you here.”
I whipped around, nearly dropping my half-full beer bottle at the sound of that rich, gruff voice so close to my ear. I hated that I recognized it already after just two classes. I detested how my body reacted to the thought of him being so close to me.
Sure enough, as I completed a spin and faced him, I was treated—or cursed—to the close-up view of Professor Remi. Viktor Remi, according to the scant bio on the college’s website.
“Oh?” I pretended to sip my drink, refusing to let him see how surprised I was to see him here. “How come?”
He stepped closer to me as a couple of people danced behind him. That minor closeness felt like both a threat and a lure. This much nearer to him, I was trapped under the hit of his body heat, the taunt of his cologne.
Oh, fuck.
I was almost flush against him, and for the first time in my life, I worried my mask would slip. That he’d see how much he affected me.
“I’ve been suffering from a specific optical illusion lately.” He lifted his drink—not beer but liquor, proving again that he was an older, wiser, and more experienced man versus these beer-loving frat boys—and set his lips on the rim. I was beholden to stare, locked in watching him swallow the liquid. Gazing at his mouth and wondering what else he could do with it heated me up. Desire flooded me as I wondered if he would also be a different lover compared to the men on campus. Older, wiser, and more experienced to rock my world and kiss me everywhere I could dream of.
Stop! Snap out of it! I furrowed my brow, hating how much he got to me. “What kind of an illusion?” I asked, proud that my voice was as cool and chilly as ever.
“An illusion of you—showing up everywhere I fucking look, Ms. Petrov.”
I damn near shivered. Not only at his smoky, deep voice, but that he’d cursed. That his eyes narrowed with spite as he complained about seeing me. How? How could I be turned on? How could this… tension building between us be such a lethal turn-on?
“What is wrong with me?” I asked it. I didn’t only wonder it, but I lost my control over the moment to the point that I asked him. I didn’t want to know why he was peeved with me. I didn’t need to know the reason he’d caused me to feel like this. He couldn’t work into anything my father wanted me to report on.
Or… maybe not. If he was here at this party, that was interesting in itself. This party was in a seedier part of town that no respectable member of the faculty would want to be seen in. Murders and rapes happened out here.
That added to the allure of him. He wasn’t acting like a stuffy, boring professor. Seeing him at this party lent a bad-boy aura to him. He became more mysterious being here, using profanity, and complaining about me as he tasted the hard liquor.
What is wrong with you ? That follow-up question hit me before he could speak. He didn’t belong at this scene. He shouldn’t have even known about this party.
“I didn’t say anything was wrong with you, Ms. Petrov,” he replied. “Just that I have this uncanny consistency of seeing you everywhere.”
“Likewise,” I bit out wryly. “And don’t call me that.”
“Ms. Petrov?” He arched one brow as he sipped his drink. “That is your name.”
“A formal name, Professor.” I lifted my finger from the neck of my beer bottle to gesture at the party. “And this isn’t a formal setting.”
“Then what should I call you?”
Oh, God. The filthy ideas that ran through my head weren’t right. It wasn’t right of me to lust for him, either.
“You—”
“Cops. Let’s go,” someone called out suddenly. The music was cut. “Cops are coming.”
I glanced up at Professor Remi at the blurted-out interruption. This wouldn’t only be an interruption, but also a complete halt to the evening.
“Get outta here,” someone else called out.
“Move it.”
“Dude, I’m leaving. Let’s go.”
The chaos of everyone rushing to exit rose to a confusing clamor of too much noise. Despite the fact that we had just been standing together and speaking to each other, Professor Remi and I split up, going opposite ways and getting separated in the crowd as people hurried to leave the party before the cops could come and arrest people for the drugs.
Obviously, I had to go too. I couldn’t be caught by any cops, and if that became an actual threat, the guards posted outside this place would get me out.
Just as I expected, they were on high alert with the exodus of people rushing out of the party. By the time I got out, they ushered me into a car and drove me away.
“What happened?” one asked.
I shrugged, still off-kilter from talking to my professor in the unlikeliest place. “Someone called the cops, and everyone was rushing out before they were caught.”
That wasn’t all that happened. I’d had a strange but not bad conversation with the man I couldn’t stop thinking about. And it seemed he was experiencing the same affliction.
As the car sped me away, I wished our exchange could have lasted a little longer—even if the time I spent in his intoxicating presence made me feel less sure about how to interpret his being here. At that party. On campus. In the lecture hall. Regardless of where I saw the insufferable professor who seemed to entertain a simmering resentment and suspicion of me, one thing was clear.
He wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.
And I cringed at how much that thought excited me.