Page 110 of Broken by my Bully

“You were soaked.”

“I didn’t know you’d be home so late.”

“How rude of me.”

I let out a frustrated sigh. “I thought a face-to-face thing would be the more…mature way to handle this.”

He’s quiet for a moment, then glances at me from the corner of his eye. He’s still wearing the same clothes as earlier, but thankfully he’s buttoned up his white shirt again.

“Nothing more mature than rubbing someone’s mistake in their face,” he mutters.

Indignation blazes across my cheeks. “What?”

“I shouldn’t have called the other night, and then said all those things. Shouldn’t have left it like that.” He shakes his head. “I’ve had other things on my mind. I’m only human.”

I let the silence filter down between us, silently drumming my fingers against the warm coffee cup in my lap.

The beautiful thing about broken things like Haven Lee is that they’re so grateful when someone finally handles them with care.

Even if that care comes with conditions.

Like trust.

Or submission.

“I’m sorry too. I’m still trying to get a handle on this whole professor-student thing. None of my teachers ever got involved in my studies. It’s kinda overwhelming.”

“Should I back off?” His voice is barely audible, his attention still directed to the fireplace. “Let you destroy what I assume is your one and only opportunity for a better life?”

If it hadn’t been drizzling, I swear I would have heard crickets.

“What makes you think?—?”

“Applying for that grant was your Hail Mary. I know it. Youknow it.” He takes a slow sip of his coffee, and then shifts to face me on the sofa, one knee sliding up onto the cushion. “You’re not as good a liar as you think you are, Miss Lee.”

My envy of him is violent and sickening.

He looks so comfortable in his own skin. This wealthy, educated, confident, sexy fucking man. He makes me feel like a pathetic piece of shit. I thought he didn’t know how bad off I was, but I guess he’s really good at poker.

And here I thought I was playing solitaire.

His voice is light and mocking when he murmurs, “Pretend, if you can, that you’re an adult, and explain to me why you’d put your future at risk like this?”

Kai broke something inside me. I was a pro at smothering things with a pillow until they stopped squirming.

My shitty childhood.

My even shittier family.

My lack of everything that makes for a decent life.

But Kai fucking shredded my defenses.

There’s no holding back my resentment. My indignation. The fury that Bastian motherfucking Rooke’s condescending smirk ignites.

I slam my coffee cup down on the table. When I turn and duck my head toward him, he leans back like I’m attacking him. I grab the back of the sofa with one hand, the front of my warm, gray hoodie with the other.

“This, Professor,” I hiss, tugging down the fabric. “Thisis why.”