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Readjusting my backpack on my shoulder, I climb the many steps to the third row from the top, and make my way toward the middle of the row and the one empty seat. I can feel everyone’s eyes on me, and it’s so unsettling. Pictures of me have been circulating campus social media groups, everyone desperate to know more about the woman who stole the space billionaire’s heart.
The minute I reach my seat, I plop down, place my backpack at my feet and lean back in the chair. I spare a glance at the clock on the wall. Five minutes until the lecture begins.
Reaching down, I unzip the front pocket of my backpack and pull out my phone. There are no messages, no missed calls, and I feel a pang of disappointment. Not sure what I was expecting. I blocked Evan on my phone, after all.
Pushing out a breath, I check my email. Then I immediately wish I hadn’t. Somehow, the media got hold of my email address and my inbox is flooded with interview requests.
My God.
Now I’m paranoid, wondering if someone’s going to try to snap a photo of me here, in class, to give to the media or share on social. I keep my eyes down and refuse to meet the speculative stares darting my way.
Someone walks up to the podium, introduces the special lecturer, and we all settle in for what’s going to be a one-hour discussion on the current and near-future developments in the field of artificial intelligence.
By fifteen minutes in, I’m already zoning out, my mind focusing on Evan, replaying those words he stated in the interview over and over again. She is…beautiful, extraordinary. I’m in love with her. But I’ve been an arse and I’m afraid I’ve pushed her away forever.
I’m deep in my thoughts, when the door to the lecture hall bursts open. We all shift in our seats as a man strides into the room, all power and confidence. He’s instantly recognizable. Half the room gasps, but I’m frozen in shock.
Oh, shit.
It’s Evan Kohl.
My heart crawls into my throat as I sink lower into my chair. What the fuck is he doing here? God forbid I’ve inadvertently walked into another one of his talks.
But just as that question flits across my mind, the microphone catches his voice, and I hear him utter my name to the speaker. The speaker shakes his head, shrugging at him before Evan edges him to the side, and addresses the class from the podium.
“I’m looking for Madeline Swanson. I was told she would be here.”
Oh, my GOD! Ground, open up please. Swallow me now.
Collectively, the entire class turns to look at me. No one utters a word, but they don’t have to. Evan’s eyes climb the tiered seating, following the direction of their attention until his gaze catches on me, and a slow smile spreads across his lips. He has me within his sights—a hunter honing in on his prey, like that hungry wolf I’d once compared him to.
But he doesn’t come to me. Instead, he places both hands on the podium, and leans into the microphone. Several people are standing now, their phones held up, capturing the scene that’s about to play out. Others, I see, are snapping photos and getting pictures from their seats. It’s already a shitshow.
“Madeline, I’ve come here to ask for your forgiveness. After pushing you away, I know—” His voice is thick with emotion, and he pauses briefly before continuing, “I know I don’t deserve it. I know I don’t deserve you. But this last month without you has taught me something—I don’t want to spend another night without you beside me. I don’t want to face another day without you in it.”
Pain is written all over his face, and my chest literally hurts seeing it. I want to fly down the stairs and fall into his arms, but I’m so shocked, all I can do is blink away the tears that are threatening to fall.
He leaves the podium and approaches the stairs. Taking the steps two at a time, he finally comes to the end of the row where I’m sitting. After a moment’s hesitation, he holds his hand out to me. “Please say you forgive me, Madeline,” he says in a low voice.
My gaze drifts. Cameras all around me are capturing this moment—some may even be live on the internet as we speak. Almost certainly, this will be viral in minutes and damned if I want this, a pivotal moment in my life, captured for everyone to see. All my words, everything.
No.
Just no. Even here, while purportedly baring his soul, he is taking away my choices. I stand and face him, arms folded, shoulders squared.
I swallow convulsively and clear my throat. “I’m in a lecture that you’ve just interrupted, and I’ve made it clear I don’t want to talk to you.” My heart is beating so hard that I can feel it in my toes, in my wrists, at my temples.
There are whispers all around us, murmurings of surprise, some of disapproval at my answer.
He clenches his teeth. “All I want is a chance to be heard. To tell you—”
“Stop!” I choke out. He’s not fucking giving up, and I just need him to go away or at least stop drawing everyone’s attention to us. This is insane. “I’ll—I’ll speak to you after this. After the lecture. In private. But you have to wait until then.”
His gaze hardens on me, and I can tell he’s at war over what to do. After a long tense second, and then two, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides, he finally nods in acquiescence. “After this, then. I’ll wait outside.” There are sighs of disappointment that I won’t be satisfying the voyeuristic curiosity of my fellow students.
He turns to go and the breath I’d been holding since I spoke leaks from me as I slump to my seat in relief. After an awkward silence during which Evan reaches the floor and apologizes to the speaker, he’s gone and the lecture resumes.
But the class is full of whispers, and quite frankly, I have zero idea what the lecture is about. My mind just keeps replaying, over and over again, what happened. I don’t dare look at my phone, but I keep seeing the screen light up with texts though I’ve silenced the notifications so they won’t interrupt the lecture. I stuff it into my backpack to avoid the temptation of looking at it. I don’t want to know who’s saying what about me out there on the internet.
