Page 14

Nic

Don’t look at him. Don’t look at him.

My feet keep moving, but my mind betrays me at the worst possible moment.

Hands entwined. His breath at my ear. My toes curling as he slips that thick finger inside—

I break and look up. And my world tilts.

Kai stands at the front of the room. In broad daylight. In front of hundreds of students. Talking. Teaching.

Like a completely normal person and not the unhinged mind-fucker with the body of a god and a cock like—

I trip.

My foot catches on a step, and my knees buckle. Barry grabs my arm to steady me, assuming I just stumbled.

Maybe I did.

Because seeing him like this? It hits so fucking different.

My gaze drags over him—not because I want to drink him.

Definitely not that.

And yet, my brain registers everything.

The wavy dark hair, mussed but effortlessly perfect. The gray turtleneck clinging to his broad shoulders and making a crime scene of his torso. And the audacity of those pushed up sleeves revealing inked skin and corded muscles.

“Who. The Fuck. Is. That?” Barry hisses.

I can’t speak. Apparently, Barry doesn’t recognize him from the charity ball.

Kai keeps talking. His voice is a smooth, practiced cadence. His hand moves in a slow, hypnotic rhythm, the way seasoned public speakers do. He doesn’t even acknowledge the fumbling latecomers disrupting his lecture—his focus is that absolute.

“Seriously, who the fuck is that guy?” Barry whispers again, this time pausing and looking around.

“Geez, will you quit gawking and find us seats?” I hiss.

He steers me toward the back row, and we start the awkward shuffle, murmuring apologies as we squeeze past annoyed students.

Still, Kai doesn’t break focus.

For a moment, I think we might get away with this.

Until suddenly, Kai stops mid-sentence and looks up. His gaze locks onto mine. There’s a flicker of recognition that I feel like a match catching fire.

Yet his only outward reaction is a single raised eyebrow and a slow, deliberate shift—one hand sliding into his pocket, the other gesturing to the empty seats.

Right at the front row.

I balk, but Barry’s grip tightens on my arm, and he starts dragging me toward Kai.

I dig my heels in, silently screaming inside my head, but Barry plows ahead, as if leading me into a goddamn execution.

By the time he’s guiding me into the row, I’m completely numb, my ears ringing.

I stare unseeingly ahead, breathing too fast while Barry digs into my leather bag and pulls out my digital notebook and pen, then does the same for himself.

And then he brings out a sealed pack of gumballs.

I have no idea why he needs those right now.

Maybe he’s reeling too. Maybe Kai’s unnerving lack of reaction is messing with his head, and now he’s trying to self-soothe with a sugar hit.

The crinkle of plastic is deafening in the silence as Barry fidgets with it. The wrapper refuses to budge.

Then, with a savage yank, the bag explodes, spitting colorful gumballs across the floor.

“Barry!” I hiss, jabbing my elbow into his ribs.

“Fuck! Sorry.”

We both hazard a look at Kai, who doesn’t spare us a glance. He only pauses for half a second—before continuing his lecture.

Does this guy even ruffle?

I glance around. Students are leaning forward, hanging on his every word. He must be saying something brilliant, something important.

But all I hear is his voice.

. . . this greedy little cunt is mine . . .

I can’t do this.

“Nic?”

Barry’s whisper cuts through my spiral.

That’s when I realize—I’m gripping his hand like a lifeline.

“What the fuck is he doing here?” I whisper.

Barry snorts. “Oh, now you’re asking?”

I jab him again. Harder. “He’s the guy from the charity ball, idiot!”

Barry’s head snaps toward Kai. Then back to me. Then to Kai again.

He looks like a confused owl, blinking between us. Then his mouth opens—closes—opens again.

He turns to another student, mouths something. At their sharp nod, his shoulders stiffen.

Then, slowly, he turns back to me and whispers. “He’s taking Keoni’s place.”

My heart stops.

“That’s . . . impossible,” I sputter. “Kai is a businessman, not a university professor—”

Barry narrows his eyes at Kai again. “Nic, are you sure he’s the same guy—”

I exhale hard. “I was with him last night, Barry. So, yes, I’m sure.”

“Back the hell up. You WHAT!?”

I swallow. “I slept with him. Last night.”

Silence.

Then Barry’s voice booms like a goddamn church bell. “WELL, FUCK ME WITH A CHEWED-UP PEN!”

Every single student whips their head toward us. A hundred staring, outraged eyes.

“Ladies.” Kai’s voice is polite. Deadly. “Perhaps you’d be more comfortable continuing your discussion outside?”

It’s not the ice in his tone that destroys me. It’s not the murderous glares from our classmates. It’s the way his eyes flick to mine, just for a second.

It’s the smirk that curves his mouth.