AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I cannot wait to work out my tension with Phoenix.
As I leave my room, a woman with bright red hair and skin even paler than Phoenix’s steps in my path. My gaze bounces from her bright red lips and copious display of cleavage.
She licks her lips, her gaze sweeping down my form.
When she pushes back her shoulders, I continue down the hallway, pretending she doesn’t exist. Paranoia says she’s an agent of Odin. Common sense tells me that she’s trying suspiciously too hard. I dislike honey traps, and I despise the ones that make their intentions so obvious.
“Professor Segul?” she teeters on stiletto heels, trying to keep up with my long strides. “I’m Julie Raring, Marketing Lecturer. Welcome to Marina University.”
“Thank you,” I reply without casting her a second glance.
“Dean Westmore said I should show you the ropes.”
“Carl’s offered to show me around.”
She pauses. “Carl who?”
“Dr. Xander.” I make my way to my destination, leaving her standing in the hallway.
The small lecture hall is a gray room with seats arranged in a U-shape. It’s already crammed with students talking among themselves. I’m beginning to realize why Dr. Xander needed his morning meetings. The undergraduates at LSF are angels compared to this unruly rabble.
Damn myself for not exercising self restraint.
Damn that Phoenix and her sweet ass.
I grind my teeth and growl with self-recrimination, wishing I hadn’t overslept.
There’s no time to set up a projector and slides, even though the screen at the front introduces me as PROFESSOR M. SEGUL, FINANCE AND ACCOUNTING, which is true, but I’m more than a lecturer on bean counting.
I walk across the stage and stand between the desk and podium.
“Welcome to advanced finance and accounting.” I make my voice carry over the sound of chatter.
A few students turn to the front and immediately resume their conversations.
Perhaps I shouldn’t have worn the three-piece suit. I’m so used to erasing every trace of my roots that I forget that the students of Marina University won’t give a shit that I come from a family of crime.
“Attention,” I yell, but they pay no heed.
A long-haired male student at the back stands. He bends to pick up a guitar and strums on it like he’s a street performer. As he bobs up and down to the cacophony he’s making with his fingers, female students sitting in front of him swivel in their seats to watch.
Fuck this.
I walk to the desk on the right of the room, pick up the chair and hurl it over the tiered seats and toward the rude bastard. He ducks, but the chair leg clips the top of his blond head.
It’s only when the furniture falls against the back wall with a crash that the little fuckers fall silent.
With a nod of approval, I stroll across the stage and back toward the podium.
“What the fuck,” the blond boy yells as he clutches the crown of his head.
“Come here.” I raise a hand.
He stiffens, his shoulders broadening as though I’ve issued a challenge.
Because this is exactly what’s happening. If these little bastards want to fuck around in my class, they’d better understand the consequences.
“You with the shitty guitar and even shittier haircut.” I point across the tiered seats. “Come down if you want to take over the class. Or shut the fuck up and sit.”
