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Never again, he told himself forcefully. Never again would he let her affect him this way. Never again would he let her affect him to the point of making him do things completely out of character and say things he had no right to say.
Never again, he repeated to himself as he drank his lemon-infused water and read his messages—
WHAT THE FUCK?
Shock had him sputtering over his glass, but words on the message thread between him and Diana didn’t even waver. Words that he seemed to have fucking typed while he had been in the throes of fever and delirium. Words that he could no longer take back—
His doorbell buzzed.
Because she was already here, outside his damn house.
The professor moved in record speed, taking a shower while issuing orders to his staff on loudspeaker. But despite his best efforts at multitasking, he still ended up making her wait for a good ten minutes before he was sufficiently presentable.
His housekeeper had already escorted Diana into his living room, allowing her to see him as he came out of the hallway. She stood up right away, and a part of him did the same thing, standing in immediate attention the moment she came into view.
Shit.
He was in trouble.
No, make that she was trouble.
Big fucking trouble, the kind that came in petite, slender packages but packed a fucking wallop. The kind that came with eat-you, eat-me eyes that had the power to enslave bastards like him. And the most damn vexing thing of all, she was the kind of trouble that noticed right away the attention-seeking banana in his fucking pocket.
“G-Good morning, Professor.” Her voice was faint.
“Good morning.” His voice, on the other hand, was raspy, with the professor unable to help but notice how her gaze kept darting to the rigid outline his erection had made against his trousers.
“I, um, brought something for you.” If he wasn’t in so much pain, he might’ve been amused at the way she had to drag her eyes off his arousal and reach for something—
The professor blinked.
“I hope you’re not allergic,” she said shyly.
“No.” The professor accepted the bouquet of flowers. “I’m, err, not.” He gazed down at the fresh bunch of wild roses he had in his hands rather blankly, thinking he had never had someone gift him with flowers—
Focus, you idiot.
He recalled himself with an effort, saying stiffly, “Thank you for this.” He glanced at where his housekeeper stood in attentive silence, and at the professor’s nod, Noel took the flowers from his hand, saying, “I’ll take care of this, sir.”
Matthijs nodded his thanks, and the other man took his leave. When he glanced back at Diana, she asked uncertainly, “Are you really okay?” And almost as if she couldn’t help herself, she moved forward, and he inhaled sharply as her scent teased him.
It was an intriguing combination of feminine elegance – like one of those rare fragrant varieties of tulips – and something masculine (perhaps a hint of leather?). Whatever the combination was, its intangible message was broad as fucking daylight.
I’m a princess, her sweet, tart scent whispered, but I can get dirty…for the right man.
The professor’s teeth gnashed. Message fucking delivered, and it was potent as hell, his trousers once again feeling like they were a damn size smaller than they should be.
“Let’s go, shall we?” He walked away without another word, and he heard her follow behind him after a moment, doe eyes gobbling him up in that innocently hungry way that was uniquely hers.
Most of Matthijs’ first-time visitors typically spent a lot of time gawking and gaping at their surroundings. Modesty aside, he knew damn well his house by the lake was an architectural masterpiece. A sprawling single-story estate designed with an impressive fusion of contemporary and rustic elements, its structure boasted of reclaimed wood logs fortified by black steel and glass walls that offered a 360-degree lakeshore backdrop for the professor’s heirloom furniture.
All of this, and yet the damn girl hadn’t even spared her surroundings more than a distracted glance. She only had eyes for him apparently, and so it remained even when they made it to the breakfast room, which his friends’ wives remarked would be an irresistible delight for any woman.
Apparently, they were wrong.
He got his HomePod to work with a ‘good morning,’ but even having his range of smart appliances operate on its own proved incapable of making her glance away. It was only when music started playing in the background that she finally reacted, a surprised smile breaking over her lips.
“Is that Sunflower?” she asked. “From Spiderverse?”
“Not exactly.” His voice was gruff. “It’s a cover, by the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra of Contini.”
“Oh.” A pause. Then, she said teasingly, “Snob alert.”
“It can’t be helped,” he answered with a disinterested shrug, “if I’ve a more elevated taste in music.”
