Instead of all that, he said, “Guess we’ll find out.”
She introduced herself as Prinia. Jules gave her his first name, a nod as if to put an end to the talk and then turned his attention back to the door.
His knee bounced once, his impatience manifesting physically. He stilled it as quickly as it had arrived.
It was time to focus.
Professor Connor Thorne walked into the room at exactly nine o’clock. Jules’s entire nervous system came to life at the sight of him.
He wore a charcoal suit, tailored to perfectly mold to his large body, no tie in sight. The top button of his shirt was undone in a concession to informality that made him look more authoritative, not less. He carried a leather portfolio in one hand and nothing else.
Jules watched him cross to the podium with the same efficient stride he’d used leaving Veil. Unhurried. Precise. Fucking enchanting.
Connor set his portfolio down on the stand, then lifted his gaze to address the room. His eyes found Jules immediately.
It lasted less than a second. A flicker of recognition so controlled that anyone else would have missed it entirely. But Jules had spent enough time studying this man’s face in photographs and then the single night a few weeks back, to notice the shift.
Surprise, Professor.
Connor’s gaze moved on. Swept the room in a bored sort of way. When he spoke, his voice filled the space without effort since everyone and everything had gone still at his arrival.
“This is Introduction to Corporate Strategy. If that’s not what you signed up for, now is the time to leave.” A beat passed where nobody moved. “Good. I don’t waste time in this class. The syllabus is available online. Read it before Wednesday or don’t bother coming back. My office hours, expectations, and grading criteria are all there. I don’t repeat what I’ve already made available in writing.”
A girl in the row behind Jules let out a small, startled laugh, then smothered it when Connor’s eyes landed on her. Her gasp was soft, yet it sounded like a shot went off in the stillness of the space.
Jules bit the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling.
God, he was magnificent.
The lecture itself was precise. Connor removed everything unnecessary until only the point of the subject remained. No filler. No anecdotes designed to make him relatable. He taught on his own terms instead of trying to fit everyone else’s mold.
Jules tracked every ounce of movement like that was what the test would be on. Connor’s words were merely background noise to the beautiful performance before him. The wayConnor’s hands moved when he emphasized a point. How he paced the front of the room in a slow circuit that kept every student in his peripheral vision. The tightness of his jaw when a student checked their phone or fumbled through an answer.
Every bit of it went into that mental folder Jules kept. It went to further building a picture of who he’d become obsessed with.
Connor’s voice when he lectured was different from the voice he’d used at Veil. At the club, it had been low and private, meant for close range. Here, it carried authority. It was clear and commanding, making everyone lean forward to ensure they caught every point.
Jules leaned forward too, though not for those same reasons. He did so because the pull was involuntary. He’d fucking orbit Professor Thorne if given the chance. Let the other man become the center of his universe.
Connor was discussing the frameworks for identifying and leveraging asymmetric strengths, a matter Jules understood the theory of but hadn’t put into practice himself. Thanks to a father who treated the dinner table like a sounding board and expected his son to contribute market analysis between courses, he could explain the concept as well as the man standing at the head of the space.
But hearing it from Connor was different from how his father had. Connor didn’t present information. He built arguments with a firm foundation before going into the minor details.
Around the halfway mark, Connor posed a question to the room. “When does competitive advantage become exploitation?”
Silence, as if the room was split between those looking for the answer and others trying to figure out if the question was rhetorical.
Jules knew it wasn’t.
“When the other party doesn’t know they’re competing,” he said, taking the bait.
Connor’s eyes found his. They became locked in a battle of wills. The moment expanded. Took on a weight that had nothing to do with corporate strategy and everything to do with a dimly lit bar, an unspoken challenge, and a cliffhanger ending that had kept Jules up most of the weekend.
Interesting.
Would Professor Thorne use the same word to describe him now?
“Expand,” Connor demanded.
