CHAPTER 2

HIROTO'S POV 

The weekend felt like a fever dream I’d survived rather than lived. By the time I crawled into my dorm room at four in the morning on Monday, my body ached beyond repair. I could still smell his expensive sandalwood scent off me.

I didn't even bother showering. I just collapsed onto my twin XL mattress, the rough cotton of my sheets feeling like sandpaper against my oversensitized skin.

"Hiroto? You back?" Kenji’s voice mumbled from the darkness of the other side of the room.

"Yeah," I croaked. My throat felt tight, a lingering reminder of the sounds I’d made in that high-end hotel suite. "Go back to sleep, Kenji."

"You’re a ghost, man. You just come and go at random, you had me worried for nothing," he grunted, rolling over.

I didn't answer. I just closed my eyes and saw those beautiful blue eyes again. The man hadn't told me his name, and I hadn't asked. I’d kept my silver filigree mask on the entire time, tucked safely behind the barrier I’d built over two years at Leash and Lease. As long as he didn't see my face, Hiroto Sato was safe. 

I fell into a black-hole sleep, only to be jerked awake three hours later by the shrill scream of my alarm.

"Kill me," I groaned into my pillow.

"Can't," Kenji said, throwing a sock at my head. "New Department Head’s first lecture is in forty minutes. Advanced Corporate Strategy. If you miss this, your scholarship is toast."

The scholarship. The only reason I’d let a stranger buy my weekend for a hundred thousand dollars. I dragged myself out of bed, wincing as the muscles in my lower back protested. I spent ten minutes in the mirror applying concealer to a faint mark on the side of my neck, right where a large hand had pinned me. I threw on a high-collared white shirt and a navy sweater and headed to the lecture hall.

The room was buzzing when we arrived. Everyone was talking about the new Professor.

"I heard he’s some Swedish prodigy from a super rich family," a girl in the row behind us whispered. "Supposed to be a total shark."

“You're so creative with your imaginations,” another said in doubt.

I tuned them out, staring at my notebook. All I cared about was this lecture ending and me finding something to eat before going back to sleep.

Then the door at the front of the hall swung open.

The chatter died instantly. It wasn't just the sound of the door, but the sheer weight of the presence that entered the room. I didn't look up at first. I was busy clicking my pen, trying to steady not be bored enough to fall back asleep. But then I smelled a familiar perfume.

My heart stopped. I slowly raised my head, my eyes traveling to the man standing in front of the lecture hall dressed formally. There was no way I could mistake that thick chestnut blonde hair that was pulled back into a neat, low ponytail and those striking blue eyes. It was him.

I felt the blood drain from my face so fast I thought I might faint. I gripped the edge of my desk, my knuckles turning white. He’s my professor. But then, a sliver of hope hit me. The mask. I never took off the mask. I let out a sigh.

“Why do you look so tense?” Kenji asked.

“I was wondering if our new professor would notice me from this angle if I fell asleep, turns out he wouldn't,” I smiled at Kenji who was at his ends wit.

“Don't even think about sleeping,” he glared at me.

The man—Professor Neven Karlsson—reached the lectern and opened a folder. "Good morning," he said. That deep, smooth lilt made my skin feel prickly. "I am Professor Neven Karlsson. I’ve spent the morning reviewing the roster for this department. Let’s see who we have."

He started calling names. He seemed detached, bored even, until he reached a specific line on the paper.

"Hiroto Sato."

He didn't look up immediately. He lingered on the name, his tongue clicking against the roof of his mouth as he pronounced it. He seemed to be weighing the name against a memory.

I swallowed hard and slowly raised my hand. "Present."

Neven’s head snapped up. His icy blue eyes locked onto mine, and for a heartbeat, the professional mask he wore vanished. A slow, predatory smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth—a look of pure, dark amusement. 

He didn't say anything. He just held my gaze a second too long before moving on to the next name. I might be jumping to conclusions but something about the way he looked at me told me that he was aware of who I was.

“No, that can't be,” I muttered to myself, trying desperately to calm down.

The rest of the lecture was a blur. I tried to take notes, but my hand was shaking too hard. Every time he paced near my desk, I wondered how he knew. Had I talked in my sleep? Had the mask slipped?

When the bell finally rang, I scrambled to pack my bag, desperate to escape.

"Mr. Sato," Neven’s voice cut through the noise. "A moment. I’d like to discuss your... academic standing in my office. Now."

Kenji patted my shoulder. "Told you he was a shark. Good luck."

I waited until the room cleared. I walked down the stairs toward the lectern, feeling nervous. Neven was leaning against his desk, arms crossed over his massive chest, watching me approach with a look of terrifying triumph.

"Close the door, Hiroto," he commanded.

I did as I was told and turned around, my back against the wood. "Professor, I don't understand—"

"You left your phone on the nightstand Friday night," Neven interrupted, his voice dropping into that low, vulgar register I remembered from the hotel. He stepped toward me, his 6'3" frame blotting out the light. "Your roommate, Kenji, is quite persistent with his check-ins. He kept lighting up your screen with your name."

My breath hitched. He’d seen the texts. He’d seen my face while I was sleeping.

"I must say," Neven whispered, leaning down until his lips were brushing the shell of my ear. "You’re much more beautiful without the silver filigree, Hiroto. Though I think I prefer you when you're not in a sweater."

He reached out, his large hand wrapping around the back of my neck in that same possessive grip from the club. "I believe we have some unfinished business regarding your 'extra-curricular' credits. Don't we, Cinder?”