Page 134 of Broken by my Bully

“So, uh, what’s back there?” I ask as innocently as I can. I take a sip of my wine, pointing with my chin to the corridor leading to his study when he just keeps watching me.

“My office.”

“That it?” I try to sound disappointed, but everything’s ringing hollow in my ears. That soft sound, followed by the violent clatter of my fork against my bowl has the hairs on the back of my neck standing up.

“What were you expecting? A sex dungeon, or a secret laboratory?”

“I never?—”

He scoffs, the playful pull of his mouth not reaching his hard, dark eyes. “I’ve heard the rumors, Haven. Everyone on campus thinks I’m a sociopath, or a serial killer hiding from the cops.”

Bastian leans in on his elbows, tilting his head and studying me intently through narrowed eyes. “Everyone except you. Why is that?”

Suddenly I don’t care about this fancy dinner, or this fancy house, or this exceptionally handsome, intimidatingly intelligent man.

It doesn’t add up.

Why is this man so fascinated with me?

This isn’t about all that.I am worthy,bullshit on that positive affirmations tape in my car. It’s like I’m building a puzzle, but all the pieces are the same color, and I still haven’t found a single straight edge.

I shake my head. “Forget I asked,” I mumble, taking another swig of wine and picking up my fork again.

I can feel his eyes on me, watching as I toy with my food.

“Did you move around a lot as a kid, Haven?”

I’m about to shovel another bite into my mouth, but instead I lay down my fork so I can stare at him with all my energy.

“Are you psychoanalyzing me?”

“That’s a bit of a leap.” He wipes his mouth too, and then takes a sip of wine, leaning back from his bowl like he’s done eating.

“So is a random question about my childhood after I admit I’m jumpy.”

He gives me a slow nod. “Touché.”

Then he sits forward in a rush, cradling the base of his wineglass on his palm. “Sometimes, a heightened stress response could be caused by childhood trauma.” He holds up a hand as if I’m going to interrupt him.

I’m not.

Professor Rooke is fascinating, especially when he goes into full-on teach mode. He punctuates each point by tapping a finger against his glass.

“This could be anything from abuse to simply existing in a dysfunctional family unit. For instance, parents fighting all the time. Their children become more vigilant about their surroundings.Walking on eggshells to predict the next trigger, so they’ll be prepared for the fallout.”

He takes a sip of wine.

“Hm.” I lay my palm on the table between us. “Maybe youshouldn’thave left private practice.”

He stares at me, blinks, then laughs. “Jesus,” he murmurs. “I forget how jaded you kids are.”

“Call me a kid again, Boomer.”

Waving his hand, Bastian sits back again and takes another sip of his wine. “Slip of the tongue. Did you get through today’s material?”

I shrug. “I’m sad I missed the group discussion. How did it go?”

He shrugs too. Shakes his head. “Would have gone a lot better if you were there. I rarely hear a new perspective these days.”