5

Vickerry’s POV

I crept toward the edge of the kitchen doorway, peeping out into the corridor to ensure Samirah wasn't anywhere in view. The coast was clear. I whipped out my mobile and dialled Marcus and Desmond on a group call. They picked up on the first ring.

"I’m in," I whispered fiercely down the line, keeping my eye on the hallway. "I’m currently standing in her bloody kitchen."

"No way!" Marcus cackled. "The bastard actually did it."

"Listen, mates," I muttered, my voice dropping lower. "I am not going to lie to you. Professor Samirah is fucking beautiful."

I bit my tongue, stopping myself from letting slip that I’d just seen her entirely naked. I didn't know why I was keeping it to myself, but the memory alone was having a severe adverse effect—a raging erection currently straining against my pants.

"Did she suspect anything?" Desmond asked. "Did she recognise you?"

"I don't think so," I sneered, checking my reflection in the dark kitchen window. "The disguise is solid. I’ve got a much fuller beard, eyebrows, and fake tattoos plastered all over my chest and arms."

Marcus chuckled. "Good job, too, because you know your dad would skin you alive if you got a real tattoo."

"Shut up," I snapped. "I'm playing the role of a plumber. She thinks I'm some local tradesman."

"Come to think of it… Can I ask a question?" Desmond interjected, not even waiting for permission. "How exactly do you plan to achieve your aim—getting her into bed—while pretending to be a bloody plumber, Vick? A sophisticated woman like Proffessor Samirah will not spare a glance at a mere plumber"

"Leave that to me," I replied, a smirk spreading across my face. "Your only concern should be waiting for me to accomplish the bet. And you lot better add an additional $100,000 to the pot, because I am about to give you an absolute X-rated movie."

A floorboard creaked down the hall.

"Shit, I hear the door. I’ve got to go," I whispered, slamming the phone shut before they could reply.

I quickly poked my head out to see if she was coming, but she didn't appear. Relief washed over me, instantly replaced by a wave of panic. I turned around and stared at the leaky kitchen sink. I had absolutely no idea what I was doing.

I whipped my phone back out, frantically typing 'how to fix a broken sink pipe' into the search engine. I popped open the toolbox I’d brought along and stared down at the sheer volume of metal wrenches, cutters, and tape.

"Bloody hell," I muttered under my breath. "There are too many tools in here. This isn't even worth the stress just to teach a loud-mouthed woman a lesson."

But then I pictured her fiercely defying me in the lecture hall, and my jaw tightened. No. I was willing and committed to go all the way.

I shoved my phone back into my pocket, sat on my haunches beneath the sink, and got to work.

---

Samirah’s POV

I paced the floor of my bedroom, my towel still clutched tightly around me. Ten minutes had passed. The clonk-clonk of tools clanging together streamed from the kitchen, proving John was actually working.

Get a grip, Samirah, I scolded myself, slapping my cheeks lightly. He’s just a tradesman. A very muscular, ridiculously attractive tradesman.

A sudden, loud crack echoed from the kitchen, followed by a muffled, very distinct curse.

"Bloody hell!"

I froze. That voice. It didn't sound like the polite, stuttering "John" from ten minutes ago. It sounded rougher. Arrogant. Familiarly irritating.

My inner wolf stirred in agitation and curiousity.

I unlocked the padlock as quietly as possible, cracked the door open, and tip-toed down the hallway.

In the kitchen, John was sitting on his haunches beneath the sink, his upper body wedged inside the cupboard. But he wasn't fixing the pipe. He was aggressively pulling at the U-bend, his broad shoulders tense with frustration.

"Stupid, useless piece of plastic," he muttered to himself, aiming a rough kick at the base of the cabinet.

I stepped into the kitchen, crossing my arms. "Is there a problem, John?"

He flinched, violently cracking his head against the top of the sink unit. "Ow! Fuck!"

He scrambled backward out of the cupboard, rubbing the back of his head. The dark baseball cap he was wearing slipped out of place, tilting upward.

In the dim light of the kitchen, I caught a full, unobstructed view of his face. I saw the latch glue of the thick beard, the way his piercing eyes narrowed, the structure of his jaw, and that distinct, arrogant pout of his red lips...

I gasped.

"Vickerry?" I whispered, the realization hitting me like a slap.

He froze, his hand dropping from his head. The stuttering, submissive plumber persona completely vanished. He sat up straight, his massive frame dominating my small kitchen as a cocky smirk spread across his face.

I was terrified as hell.

"Well," Vickerry rumbled, his voice dropping the fake accent entirely, returning to his usual mocking tone. "It took you long enough, Professor."

"You..." My voice shook with rage. "What the bloody hell are you doing in my house?! How did you get in here?!"

"I told you, the front door was unlatched," he said, casually standing up to his full height. He looked down at me, his eyes deliberately trailing from my face down to the towel wrapped around my chest, a dangerous gleam in his eyes. "And you put out a public distress signal for a plumber. I just happened to be in the neighborhood."

"Don't lie to me!" I snapped, taking a defensive step back. "You blocked my university housing application, didn't you? You tracked my address!"

"Guilty as charged, I simply get intel about you" he sneered, taking a slow step toward me. His Alpha aura began to bleed into the room, suffocating and making my inner wolf tremble. "You told me my frontal lobe wasn't fully developed, Samirah. You humiliated me. Did you really think I’d just let you drive off in your little matchbox car and forget about it?"

"Get out," I hissed, pointing a shaking finger at the door. "Get out of my house before I call the pack police on your miserable ass!"

Vickerry let out a dark, mocking laugh, taking another step until he was completely towering over me. The scent of his Alpha pheromones was overwhelming, sending an unwanted, traitorous shiver straight down my spine.

"Call them," he challenged, leaning down so his lips were dangerously close to my ear. "Tell them Alpha Vickerry Adams, your new landlord, is in your kitchen. But before you do... let’s talk about how you’re going to pay your rent next month, seeing as your bank account is completely dry."

My heart stopped. My new landlord? How does he know that?!

Vickerry smirked, thoroughly enjoying the terror in my eyes. He reached out, his fingers gently flicking the edge of my hair. "You see, Professor... you might have the degrees, but I have the power. Now, are we going to keep playing these academic games, or are you going to listen to my proposition?"