My Professor(78)

“What do you want from me?” I ask, hoping if I catch her off guard, she’ll feed me the truth for once.

She takes a long time answering and finally does it with a shake of her head. “I don’t know.”

There’s our problem.

Emelia can seem meek and small at times, but that means she can be elusive too. She’s so good at escaping and slipping away.

“You told me the other night you were pretending,” I offer, trying to see if that gets her talking.

She nods but otherwise doesn’t reply.

I don’t fight against the silence. What more can I say?

She tips her head to the side, studying me, and her eyes narrow.

“I’m not sure if I ever told you, but I’d just gotten out of a long relationship when I moved to Boston. My boyfriend at the time had cheated on me.”

I hum, though inside, I battle against a bout of rage. How could anyone be so foolish?

“Did you love him?”

“No,” she says confidently, assuredly. “But that doesn’t negate the fact that I just got out of a relationship.”

Ah, I see what she’s doing here: building her case against us.

“And besides that…you’re my boss. And you’re too old.”

That makes me almost laugh, but I hold it together as she continues her list.

“You live in another world. Your bathroom is the size of my entire apartment…”

“Emelia.”

Her gaze suddenly ignites. “That.” She points her finger at my chest accusingly. “You say my name, and it sends a shiver down my spine. You hold entirely too much power.”

She’s really trying to make it out like I’m a villain.

I raise a brow, sounding less than impressed. “Are you done?”

“Yes. Let’s be done,” she says, twisting my words, trying to escape this yet again.

“I won’t force this.”

“I don’t want you to,” she insists.

What a liar. She would love for me to force this. It’s what I’ve done from the very beginning. Me playing the aggressor means she’s off the hook for her actions. She doesn’t have to consider what she truly wants. She’s adrift at sea, at the mercy of the waves, and that’s the way she likes it.

I could do what I’ve done for the last few weeks. I could have her.

But for how long?

Candace calls to alert me of my first meeting, and Emelia slips away. No one pays her any mind as she leaves my office, except for me. I keep track of her every step until she’s back at her cubicle.





I’m dead asleep on Saturday night when my phone rings beside my bed.

At first, I reach over to silence it, but then I answer the call with a groggy and annoyed “What?”

“Shoot. Are you sleeping?”

Emelia’s voice stirs me awake fully. I flip over onto my back and check the time: nearly one AM, and from the sound of it, she’s not at home. Loud dance music blares in the background. The pulsing beat has my ears ringing.

I sit up. “Emelia? Where are you?”

She ignores my question. “I told you I had your number memorized.”

Her voice is barely audible over all the noise, and it’s hard to tell if her words are slightly slurred.

“Where are you?” I ask again as I climb out of bed, my voice authoritative and insistent.

“Alexander took me out for a drink to cheer me up.”

I’m already moving to my closet, yanking a shirt off a hanger and tugging it on with one hand.

“Cheer you up?” I ask, trying to make sure she stays on the phone with me while I figure out how to get to her.

“Yeah.” She laughs. “I can’t remember exactly how it happened. He called me earlier, I know that, and I guess I sounded a little down or something. He insisted I meet him out for a drink, but that was like four hours ago…and some of his friends came. Do you know them? Harrison and Marielle? They wanted to try a different place. We’ve gone to so many now I’ve lost count.”

“Emelia—”

“I don’t even know what part of town I’m in. Can you hear me? The music is so loud.”

“Are you near Alexander? Hand him the phone, please.”

“He was just here, but now I don’t know where he’s gone.” Her voice is so quiet, like she’s moved the phone away from her ear.

“Find a waiter or a bartender and hand them your phone.”

I’m tugging my shoes on and already heading out the door. While I don’t know where she is yet, I do know there are only a few places in town worthy of Alexander and his friends.

“I’m at the bar, but there’s nowhere to sit.”

“Ask someone the name of the place.”

“Excuse me,” she says to someone, her voice gentle and sweet.

“Hey, sweetheart,” a gruff voice replies.

Already I know I’m going to rip Alexander a new one tomorrow.

“Can you tell me where I am?”

The guy laughs. “The way you look in that dress…we must be in heaven.”

Emelia doesn’t register the idiotic pick-up line. She thanks him awkwardly and asks again. I barely hear the name of the bar. It’s muffled but I think I have it.