Chapter 2
The world was even less forgiving the next morning.
"You’re a bad influence," I mumbled to Asvika, who trailed beside me as I dragged my feet to the university campus, my head pounding from the hangover.
She, on the other hand, was cheerful and bubbly even though she drank way more alcohol than I did.
What sort of sorcery was this?
"I heard the professor is present today," someone said, walking beside us. I vaguely remembered her as one of Asvika's friends, but I couldn’t remember her name.
"That old fa—" Asvika pushed the door open, and we all went quiet.
"Damn, that's no old fart," she whispered.
As if he heard her, the professor raised his head, adjusting his glasses, the sunlight reflecting on his rims.
He was unfairly beautiful for a man, hidden under the innocent disguise of a professor.
Wow.
My head hurt too much to stare any longer.
Then my stomach churned. My essay.
"Do you think he read my essay already?" I asked, trudging behind Asvika as we searched for good seats in the hall.
"I apologize for my absence during your first few weeks." His deep voice carried over the room. "I commend those who completed the essays. Though, some entries were appalling."
I sank lower in my seat.
Asvika leaned toward me, her voice a sharp whisper. "He definitely read it."
The professor began walking around the room, his presence unnervingly commanding. As he moved closer to our row, I prayed he'd just keep walking.
"Miss Arabella," he said, stopping beside me. "I read your essay and…no, I don't have a beef with fun." His lips curved in a faint smirk as he leaned in, his hand brushing my waist where the class couldn't see.
His voice dropped, low enough for only me to hear. "You have an interesting way of expressing yourself in essays. Creative, but not subtle. Let's hope you save that originality for me, and not the other professors. I don't share."
It was that feeling again and that…that voice!
My eyes widened as I stared at him, those hazel eyes glimmering under his glasses. The realization hit me like a freight train.
No.
He was the man from the VIP table at the club.
The man I kissed.
That Bastard!
"I-I don't know what you're talking about, sir," I stuttered, quickly turning my gaze away.
I sneaked a glance at Asvika, but she was asleep, headphones in. Great. No rescue coming from her. What a hooligan.
His hand left the table and found a place on my waist, gripping me slightly which made me gasp.
Anger surged through me, and I turned to glare at him, leaning in until our faces were dangerously close.
"Look, old man," I hissed low enough for only him to hear, "I don't know what you're high on. But you should be grateful I didn't sue you for sexual harassment."
He studied me for a moment, amusement in his eyes, then straightened and walked back to the front of the class without another word.
I heaved a sigh of relief and turned to Asvika, smacking her on the head to wake her up.
"Hey! What if I had a seizure?" she complained, rubbing her forehead.
"You were sleeping in class."
"Ugh. Our professor is literally not more than ten years older than us; he's not going to mind. He's savvy."
Idiot.
Maybe I should drop this course.
No, that would be letting him win and besides, I needed it to graduate. This was my last year.
"Okay, then," the professor's voice broke through my thoughts. "I'll see you all next week. No homework this time."
Cheers erupted from the class, and everyone started filing out. I gathered my stuff as quickly as I could.
Maybe if I walked fast enough, he wouldn’t notice me. One more step and I was out those doors—a week away from that man.
"Miss Arabella, please stay back."
So much for a step.
Shit.
The words hit me like a brick to the chest, stealing the air from my lungs.
My course mates streamed out of the room, their laughter and chatter fading as the door swung shut behind them. I was trapped, alone with him.
I glanced at Asvika, still sat at her desk with her nose buried in her phone. For a moment, I debated telling her, asking her to wait for me, but I couldn't. Not here. Not now. "What's up?" she whispered without looking up.
"Nothing," I lied, forcing a shaky smile that didn't reach my eyes as I watched her leave the room.
My feet felt like lead as I made my way to his desk.
Every step was slow, deliberate, like I could somehow prolong the inevitable.
My palms were slick with sweat, and I clenched them into fists, hoping to steady the tremor running through me.
I was never scared of boys. But this…this wasn't a boy; this was a man.
He didn't look at me right away, his focus seemingly absorbed in the papers spread across his desk. But I wasn't fooled. I knew he was waiting, dragging out the silence to make me squirm.
I stopped a few feet away, unsure if I should say something or wait for him to speak first. The tension in the room was suffocating, a heavy weight pressing down on my chest.
I took the time to assess him. He had a muscular build, if I made the wrong move, he could actually strangle me.
I shivered.
"Miss Arabella," he said finally, his voice smooth but laced with something sharp, something dangerous.
My stomach twisted into knots as his eyes lifted to meet mine. Those eyes. The ones I'd been trying to forget since that night. They weren't just looking, they were dissecting, peeling back every layer I'd tried so hard to put up.
I swallowed hard, forcing myself to stand tall even as my knees threatened to give out beneath me.
He stood slowly, his movements deliberate, calculated, as he closed the space between us. The air between us felt charged, electric, and it sent a chill down my spine.
"You think I didn't notice?" he asked, his voice low and smooth, like a predator toying with its prey.
"I don't know what you're talking about, sir," I said, my voice a little too defensive.
His lips curved into a faint, knowing smirk, and my heart sank. He knew, and he was enjoying this.
Without warning, he leaned in, so close that I could feel the warmth of his breath against my skin. My heart hammered in my chest, the sound deafening in my ears.
"I'm not stupid, Ara," he murmured, his voice like silk and steel. "I remember everything."
My stomach dropped.
The man from the club. The goddamn kiss.
It hit me like a freight train, the memory slamming into me with full force. No. No, no, no.
My breath hitched, my pulse quickening as panic surged through me. I took a step back, but his hand shot out, brushing against my waist to stop me.
The touch was light, barely there, but it was enough to send a jolt through my entire body.
"Let go," I said, my voice sharper now, though it still wavered.
But he didn't.
Instead, his hand tightened slightly, just enough to make me feel trapped.
"You didn't seem to mind that night," he said, his tone smooth, dark, and dripping with condescension. "But now you think you can just walk away? Pretend it didn't happen?"
Rage flared in my chest, hot and overwhelming, cutting through the fear that had been paralyzing me. Who did he think he was?
Before I could stop myself, my hand shot up, connecting with his cheek in a sharp, satisfying crack that echoed through the room.
Ha! I slapped him. That ought to do it.
"If you touch me again," I hissed, my voice low but steady, "I'll report you. I'll ruin you. Why don't you take the stick, shove it up your ass and cry about it to your wife and grandkids, old man?"
I turned on my heel, adrenaline coursing through me as I headed for the door, but I didn't make it far.
His hand clamped around my wrist like a vice, yanking me back. I stumbled, and before I knew it, my back was pressed against the cold, hard wall.
He loomed over me, his arms braced on either side of my head, caging me in. His face was close, too close. His eyes burned with something dark and dangerous.
"Say that again. I dare you," he growled, his voice low and threatening, sending a shiver down my spine.
I glared up at him, my chest heaving as I fought to keep my composure. Fear and fury warred within me, but I refused to look away.
They always told me my assets would get me in trouble one day. By assets they meant, my eyes and my mouth.
I tilted my head, forcing a smirk to mask the tension coiling in my chest. "What? Did you lose your hearing, Grandpa?"
His chuckle was soft, almost amused, as he lowered his head. That smug, infuriating grin spread across his face.
Perfect.
I drove my knee up sharply, hitting him square in the groin. His chuckle turned into a pained groan as he doubled over, his grip on me slackening.
Without a second thought, I bolted for the door. My fingertips brushed the handle when a hand yanked me back, spinning me around and slamming me against the desk.
No!
I braced for the sharp pain of wood meeting my skull, but it didn't come. His palm cushioned the back of my head, saving me from a possible coma, the gesture both unexpected and unnerving.
"D-Do you do this often?" I stuttered, glaring up at him, my voice betraying my racing nerves more than I liked.
He leaned in, his lips curling in quiet amusement. "What? Getting kicked in the balls or teaching brats like you a lesson?"
A shiver ran down my spine at his calm tone, infuriatingly unaffected by the blow I'd landed.
"There's nothing grandfather about you," I muttered, forcing sarcasm to replace fear. "Godfather, maybe."
The jab seemed to land, though his smirk didn't waver. If anything, it sharpened, like a predator toying with prey. He was enjoying this.
"You're the first woman who's ever had the nerve to kick me," he said, his eyes flicking over my face, studying me too closely. "Or... initiate a kiss."
Heat rushed to my cheeks, and I cursed my best friend for dragging me into this ridiculous mess. And why the hell was he insinuating I kissed him first?
"What are you, a paedophile?" I snapped, desperate to regain control.
His eyes darkened, the humour slipping from his expression. "You're everything but a child, Ara."
I rolled my eyes, ignoring the nickname as I shifted uncomfortably under his hold. His grip on my arms was firm, unyielding, but not painful. Not yet.
"Okay, Grandpa Professor, we both have places to be. What do you want from me?"
His jaw tightened, the muscle in his cheek flexing as he inhaled slowly, his composure returning.
I smirked, knowing I'd gotten under his skin.
"Play pool with me," he said, his tone suddenly calm, almost disarming.
"W-What?" I blinked, the shift catching me off guard.
He raised a brow. "Let me finish."
I clamped my mouth shut, glaring at him as my arms started to ache.
"One game of pool," he continued, his voice measured. "If you win, I'll leave you alone. No more interruptions, no more teasing. It'll be like I never knew you."
"And if you win?" I asked, narrowing my eyes, my heart pounding harder than I liked.
The corner of his mouth curved into a wicked grin. "If I win…we'll find out then."
The vagueness sent a chill down my spine, but I refused to show my hesitation. I squared my shoulders, glaring back at him.
"Fine," I bit out. "If it gets you out of my life, I'll play."
He stepped back, finally releasing me. I pushed myself off the desk, ignoring the urge to rub my wrists.
"Good," he said, running a hand through his hair as if none of this had just happened.
"Don't be late, Ara. And try not to lose."
I glared at his retreating figure, his maddening confidence as unbearable as ever.
Only when the door clicked shut behind him did I let out the breath I hadn't realized I was holding.
What had I just agreed to?