Page 6 of Tempting the President (Oro Nero MC)

Not while I brush my teeth in the morning.

Not during my commute to campus. Definitely not during office hours when a student knocks on my door and for a split second I think it might be him again.

And certainly not right now, sitting across from my best friend at Caffeinated Pages with a mug of perfectly brewed coffee that I’m not even tasting because I’m too busy not thinking about—

“Earth to Jayne. Hello? Anyone in there?”

I blink, realizing Elissa has been talking to me for who knows how long while I’ve been staring at the foam pattern in my cappuccino like it contains the secrets of the universe.

“Sorry, what?”

“I said,” Elissa repeats with exaggerated patience, “you’ve been weirdly distracted all week.

And by ‘weirdly distracted,’ I mean you’ve checked your phone approximately eighty-seven times in the last twenty minutes and you keep glancing at the door like you’re expecting either Prince Charming or a serial killer to walk through it. ”

“I do not!”

But even as I protest, I realize I’m doing exactly that: scanning the entrance of the café for the one person I’m desperately hoping not to see.

“You literally just did it again.” Elissa takes a calm sip of her black coffee, watching me over the rim with her typical analytical precision. “So are you going to tell me what’s going on, or do I have to deduce it from your increasingly erratic behavior?”

“There’s nothing to tell.” I try to sound casual, but the way Elissa’s eyebrow rises a precise quarter inch tells me I’m not succeeding. “I’m just stressed about...work stuff.”

“ Work stuff is why you almost jumped out of your skin when your phone buzzed earlier?”

“How do you—”

“Lawyer thing.”

Riiight.

I really should have thought twice about having not just a lawyer as a roommate, but as a best friend, too.

“Fine.” I glance around to make sure no one’s listening, then lean forward. “Remember Annie Steele? My psychology student?”

“The quiet one who actually reads the assigned texts,” Elissa confirms with a nod. “What about her?”

“Her brother came to see me last week.”

Elissa waits, clearly expecting more. When I don’t immediately continue, she prompts, “And this is dramatic because...?”

“Because he found my Kindle,” I blurt out.

Her eyes widen. “Oh.”

My shoulders slump. Oh, indeed. It’s the understatement of the century, but whatever.

Elissa is the only person who knows about my love-and-hate relationship with MC romance, and right now, I just feel relieved to have someone to talk to about my.

..dilemma, which I know is another understatement, but.

..whatever. Right now, my rollercoaster of emotions makes me feel like I’m back in high school, and my mental vocabulary reflects this.

“Did you try to convince him it’s for academic research?”

“He doesn’t believe me.”

“Smart.”

“Lis!”

“I’m just being honest. Only an idiot would fall for that.”

“It is for academic research, and anyway, that’s not...that’s not the worst part of it.”

Elissa’s brows shoot up. “How can it get any worse—“

“He took my Kindle.”

That gets her attention. “What do you mean—are you saying he stole your Kindle?”

“Not...exactly.” I fidget with my napkin, shredding it into tiny pieces. “He sort of...confiscated it. As evidence.”

“Evidence of what?”

“Of me supposedly influencing his sister’s research interests in inappropriate directions.”

“I see.” Elissa’s tone has turned thoughtful, which tells me she’s busy analyzing things. “So let me get this straight. Annie’s brother thinks you’re encouraging her to research...what? Romance novels? Motorcycles? Sexual psychology?”

“All of the above?” I wince. “Annie’s been writing this thesis about power dynamics in relationships, specifically focused on ‘motorcycle club alpha males’ and their effect on ‘repressed academic women’.”

Elissa doesn’t laugh, which is a testament to our friendship. She doesn’t even smile. She just nods thoughtfully, like we’re discussing a perfectly normal academic scenario.

“And her brother thinks you’re the inspiration for this research.”

“Yes! Which is ridiculous, because I would never discuss my personal reading habits with a student.”

“But he found your Kindle.”

“Yes.”

“With all those books.”

“Yes.”

“That exactly match what his sister is researching.”

I groan, dropping my head into my hands. “You’re not helping.”

“I’m establishing facts,” Elissa corrects, sounding exactly like she does when lecturing first-year law students. “So this brother. What’s he like?”

The question catches me off guard. “What do you mean, what’s he like?”

“I mean, is he some middle-aged helicopter parent who’s upset about his precious baby sister learning about sex? Or is he something else?”

Images of Patrizio Steele flash through my mind: tall, commanding, with eyes that see straight through every defense I’ve ever constructed.

The way he says “darling” like he has every right to use endearments with me.

The way he moves through space like he owns it.

The way my body responds to his presence even when my brain is screaming at me to maintain professional distance.

“Something else,” I admit reluctantly.

“Define ‘something else’.”

“He’s...intimidating.”

“Physically intimidating? Intellectually intimidating? Sexually intimidating?” Elissa presses, apparently determined to make me spell it out.

“All of the above?” I take a gulp of my now-lukewarm coffee. “He’s tall, obviously intelligent, and...he has this way of looking at you like he knows exactly what you’re thinking.”

“And is he attractive?” Elissa asks the question so calmly she might as well be asking about the weather.

“That’s not relevant.”

“So extremely attractive, then.”

“I didn’t say that!”

“You didn’t need to. If he were unattractive, you would have just said no. The fact that you’re claiming it’s ‘not relevant’ means he’s probably gorgeous and you’re having complicated feelings about it.”

Sometimes I really hate how well she knows me.

“Fine. Yes. He’s objectively attractive, in that ‘obviously dangerous but you can’t look away’ kind of way that you see on book covers. But that’s not the point!”

“What is the point, then?”

“The point is that he has my Kindle! With all my reading history! And he thinks I’m corrupting his sister, which could potentially become a problem with the university if he decides to make a formal complaint.”

Elissa considers this, tapping one perfectly manicured nail against her coffee mug. “Has he threatened to make a complaint?”

“Not explicitly, but—”

“Has he contacted you since taking your Kindle?”

“No, but—”

“So you’ve been avoiding him all week because...?”

“Because it’s mortifying!” The words burst out of me. “He read passages from my books out loud, Elissa. In my office. Passages about...you know.”

“About powerful men dominating innocent academics in inappropriate locations?”

“You’re enjoying this,” I accuse, narrowing my eyes at her.

“I’m analyzing,” she corrects, but there’s a hint of amusement in her eyes that tells me she is, in fact, enjoying my discomfort at least a little. “So what’s his name? This intimidating, attractive brother who’s gotten you so flustered.”

“Patrizio Steele.”

Elissa’s eyes widen slightly—the most dramatic reaction I’ve ever seen from her in our years of friendship. “Steele? As in, the Steeles?”

“I don’t know. Maybe? Does it matter?”

“It might.” She frowns thoughtfully. “There’s a Steele Industries that owns half the high-rises in Manhattan. Including this building, actually.”

I nearly choke on my coffee. “What?”

“Midnight Tower.” Elissa gestures around us. “It’s owned by Steele Industries. Top floors are residential penthouses, middle floors are luxury apartments, ground floor is commercial—hence this café.”

“How do you know that?”

“I represented a client in a lease dispute last year. Had to research the ownership structure.” She shrugs, like memorizing the real estate holdings of billionaires is perfectly normal.

“If it’s the same Steele, then your student’s brother isn’t just some random guy; he’s seriously wealthy and powerful. ”

This is not helping my anxiety levels.

“Great. So now I’ve not only had my secret romance novel addiction discovered by a gorgeous man, but he’s also a billionaire who literally owns the building we’re sitting in. This just keeps getting better.”

“You have to admit, it’s kind of like the setup of one of your books,” Elissa observes, and I can tell she’s fighting a smile. “Intimidating billionaire discovers professor’s secret desires, tension ensues.”

“It is nothing like my books,” I protest, but even to my own ears, the denial sounds weak. “Those are fiction. This is my actual professional reputation at stake.”

“Uh huh.” Elissa takes another sip of her coffee, watching me over the rim. “So what are you going to do about it?”

“What can I do? I’ve been avoiding him all week.”

“And how’s that working out for you?”

Not well, if I’m honest. Despite changing my routines and haunting different coffee shops, I keep seeing him everywhere. It’s like he’s deliberately placing himself in my path, watching my increasingly desperate attempts to avoid him with that knowing smile that makes my stomach flip.

“It’s...a work in progress.”

“You know what they say in those books you definitely don’t read for fun,” Elissa says, her voice taking on a mock-serious tone. “You can run, but you can’t hide from an alpha who’s set his sights on you.”

“That is not helpful!” I glare at her. “And I thought you didn’t read romance novels.”

“I don’t have to, not with you telling me about every book you’ve read, and come to think of it...don’t you think Patrizio Steele is exactly like all those heroes—”

“Mind your tongue! The guys in my books are, like, diamonds on the rough, while guys like Patrizio Steele are jerks and—”