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Pressure builds up in my gut, like I’m a kettle that’s prevented from whistling. If I told her that I’d said those words for her protection, it would sound like transparent bullshit.
I squeeze my eyes shut and exhale two lungfuls of frustration.
If only she knew what I did to make sure the man didn’t return with information about her to Crius. The words rise, but the explanation is so entangled with the murder—murder I can never talk about—that I cannot form the words.
I meet her huge gray eyes that smolder with accusation and try to find a way to articulate my intentions without admitting to having a higher body count than a serial killer.
“Phoenix,” I say, keeping my voice even. “Listen to me.”
Her lip curls. “Oh, and don’t even think of demanding a refund. I gave you more than your money’s worth.”
She shuts the door, but this time, I don’t stop her.
Crius would call me an idiot for pandering to a woman. He’d only be partially right, but thinking about that man makes me want to stab him in the throat.
I knock on the door, but this time, I’m ready to break the chain.
The door next to her apartment opens, and I clench my jaw so hard that I grind my molars.
With the whole banana debacle and Miss Belus’s subsequent attempts at cancellation, I can’t afford for someone to catch me outside the apartment of the female student I supposedly harassed.
I turn on my heel and hurry toward the fire exit.
Phoenix doesn’t report to my office later that morning, nor did I expect her presence, but my raging hard-on has become accustomed to her visits.
I press the heel of my hand into my crotch, trying to ease the strain, but it surges back with a protest. It’s not just my dick that misses her.
The sound of light footsteps in the hallway has my gaze darting to the door. Whoever’s out there rushes past and I stand to compensate for the sensation of my heart sinking.
“Bloody hell.” I glower at the bulge in my trousers. “Can’t you see this is for the best?”
With Phoenix no longer associating with me, she will never become a pawn for the likes of Crius or anyone else who wishes to get to me through her. I have Mother to concern myself with, and I’m thankful that Quinn is a paranoid recluse whose idea of leaving her apartment involves spending time on its roof garden.
Phoenix is better without me, and I’m relieved she ended things before I could become too attached.
On Tuesday morning, the only thing stopping me from pulling my cock out at my desk is another visit from Dr. Xander, who tells me that Professor Eckhart is on the mend.
I walk to the small lecture theater, my steps tense with trepidation at the prospect of seeing her again, but there’s a lightness in my chest that borders on relief. Relief that this mission may soon come to an end, and that Crius will get what he wants and release Mother.
Thanks to my clingy colleague, I arrive at a full lecture theater with only a few minutes to spare. As I stride across the stage, the chatter falls to a low hum.
I set up the projector with today’s lecture, and my gaze finds Phoenix’s who glares back, her beautiful eyes shining with defiance. She breaks the stare and turns to speak with Veer Bestlasson, the sight of which ignites a flame of fury that continues throughout the lecture.
The thought of her with that floppy-haired bastard makes me want to risk everything and abduct him myself.
After giving the class some readings to complete by Thursday, I return to the desk to gather my notes. Even though my head is bowed, I’m still aware of Phoenix in my periphery, her gaze burning the side of my face. The blond figure at her back must be Veer Bestlasson.
Flaring my nostrils, I grind my teeth. She cannot continue associating with that boy, especially since he’s about to become a hostage for Crius.
I glance up to find Athena Belus entering the lecture theater. Since I’ve never seen her grace any of my lectures, and her dark eyes are fixed on me, I can only assume she’s returned for round two.
When I find the Grace trio hovering close to my desk, all hope of warning Phoenix vanishes, replaced with a burning resentment.
“Professor Segul.” Miss Belus meets my eyes with a glower harder than steel. “I apologize for the disruption I caused last week.”
“Why does your remorse sound forced?” I ask, keeping my voice light.
The young woman who has an answer for everything falls silent, but she draws her elbows into her sides in an unconscious gesture that appears protective.
