Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 60904 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 305(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60904 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 305(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
“I didn’t say I was tutoring you,” he counters smoothly, his gaze still far too intent on my face. “I said you needed guidance.”
“Turns out you’re the annoying one,” I inform him. “Controlling, much?”
He sips his Americano, completely unfazed. “It’s one of my many charms. How’s your sandwich?”
It’s delicious, especially after a morning of deprivation and a fear-soaked sprint.
I only reply by taking a massive bite, conveying sarcastic compliance.
He tips his head in approval. “You’re getting some color back in your cheeks. Good.”
The low praise does something funny to my insides, and my face flushes again.
I keep my tone light and assert, “I earned my place on this course. You’ve made your opinion of my author aspirations clear, but you won’t guide me to a different decision.”
He shakes his head ruefully. “I really was an arsehole when I said that. The mandated icebreaker was irritating, and I took out my irritation on you. I meant what I said: I will push my students to see you succeed. But I could’ve been nicer about it. I’m sorry.”
“Another apology from Professor Asshole?” I say blithely. “You’re full of surprises.”
“I can admit when I’m wrong. Despite your low opinion of me, I’m really not that terrible.”
I consider refuting that I have a low opinion of him, but that would be a lie. At least, it would’ve been a lie a couple weeks ago. Now that he’s showing me this softer, caring side of himself, I’m no longer certain if I completely dislike him, even if he’s controlling.
“I’m sorry,” I admit. “You were rude to me, and I was quick to judge you. I really do appreciate what you’re doing for me. Thank you for coming to check on me.”
He waves away my gratitude. “Anytime. I’m glad you contacted me.”
His expression turns stern again, and I immediately regret referencing my stalker. Verbally sparring with Rand was a merciful distraction from my fear.
“I don’t think you’re going to like this,” he warns, “but I have a contact who might be able to help with your stalker. We don’t know how he’s sending the messages or how to trace them. My friend could look into it. He’s good with tech.”
I don’t like the idea of involving anyone else in this. It’s too dangerous.
“And what then?” I press. “What are you going to do about it if we identify my stalker? I already told you I don’t want to go to the police to get him arrested.”
Rand braces his corded forearms on the table and leans toward me. Even though the table separates us, his raw power invades my personal space.
“I’ll make sure he stops harassing you.”
I’m speechless, completely overwhelmed by his fierce demeanor. My stern professor with his slutty little glasses and civilized academic veneer is gone; the hulking man looming over me is pure predator.
I take a breath and lean back in my chair, as though I can escape his powerful aura.
I’m not afraid of him. That menace isn’t directed at me. He’ll turn it on the man who’s tormenting me.
“Why are you helping me?” I ask quietly.
He blinks and softens slightly. “Do I need a reason to want to keep you safe?”
“I’d like to know, please. You said you don’t tolerate abusive men.”
His gaze shutters. His expression doesn’t change, and he doesn’t so much as shift in his seat. But he’s withdrawn from me somehow.
I lean toward him, chasing our invisible connection. The loss makes my chest ache.
It’s completely unreasonable.
His white knight behavior is messing with my head. It’s making all of my weakest instincts swoon. It would be so much easier to lean on him for support.
His offer of protection is terribly tempting, and I no longer want to fight it.
I force myself to admit, “You were right. I’m not good at accepting help. I need to understand why you’re here when I’ve tried to push you away.”
Some of the tension in his jaw eases. “My father was not a good man. Because of his sins, I ended up in a situation where I had to fend for myself. I saw what it takes to survive—and what some men are willing to do for their own selfish ends.”
His eyes sharpen on mine again. My breath catches.
“You are innocent. You don’t deserve to be terrorized. This stalker wants you for himself, and he doesn’t mind scaring you if that’s what it takes to have you.”
“You’re wrong,” I counter. “He doesn’t want me. Not really. He wants the control. He wants to make himself feel powerful by making me feel powerless. He’s a sick fuck, and no matter what he does, he’ll never have me.”
Rand’s eyes flare, an enigmatic tick in his expression that I don’t fully understand.
“I won’t let anyone harm you, Lena,” he promises.
I want to ask him more about his father and the situation that forced him to see the worst of humanity.