13

Jennie's POV 

I’m stuck in this small office room with Professor Moreau and he’s not saying a word yet.

My hands are lying limp on my lap, and my eyes are flying all over the room. One minute I’m looking at the floor, the next minute I’m looking at him. I feel like I’m about to pass out from the heat building up inside me.

The air in the room is thicker than it was just seconds ago.

Professor Moreau sighs and runs his fingers through his hair. He isn’t speaking, yet my attention is fixed on him. I peer at his face, and he leans back in his seat, looking at me through those hooded eyes.

God, he’s so handsome. How many times have I said those words in my head? I’ve lost track, but I am sure I will definitely say them again.

“Your boyfriend…” he starts, but his voice trails off.

I break our eye contact at the mention of Oliver and press my top teeth into my bottom lip. “He seems crazy about you” he says and I laugh.

“He’s not really,” I say the truth and he tilts his head to observe me.

“He should be. Any man who has you should fucking worship the ground you walk on princess,” he says and I dare to look at him. Again, like that night, I feel the need to bare myself for him.

I want to tell him all about the situation of my relationship with Oliver, but the words get caught in my throat as he relaxes fully into his leather seat. Even though the table hides his lower half, for some reason, I want to crawl into his lap and let him hold me.

“Did I hurt you from that night?” he asks and I straighten my back in shock. “I've been thinking about it a lot since that night,” he says in a softer tone.

“You were worried you hurt me?” I ask to make sure I’m hearing correctly and he nods.

Dear God, please make him stop being so attractive. My own boyfriend and future husband has never worried about me after sex.

He just fucks me and sleeps off after cumming.

“Why did you leave so soon?” I ask instead of giving him the answer to his question. We both know the answer to his question already. I wouldn’t be here forcing my thighs together if he had hurt me that night.

“I had an emergency meeting to attend to,” he says and I drop my eyes from his face, “but I made sure to take care of you before I left.” he adds.

Why does his words make me feel jealous of every other woman he has ever touched?

“Do you take care of all your lovers like that?” my voice cracks with the envy I feel welling up inside me, and the professor laughs. It’s a low laugh that sends waves of ungodly vibrations to my core.

“You would like to know the answer to that, wouldn't you…Princess?” he asks and it feels like we’re back to the club.

Even without the red lights and loud music, it still feels like we’re wrapped up in a sensuality of our own. I want him. God, I want him so bad.

“I have a…I have a boyfriend,” I say the stupid words and his lips lift into a smile that doesn’t seem so humorous.

“I know,” he murmurs and moves his body forward. I didn’t realize he was this big that night. He has to be the most attractive man I’ve ever seen in my life even with his clothes on.

“And that is why I need you to sit properly, Miss Jennie. You’re too tense around a man who is just a professor,” he says and I realize just how tense I am.

My thighs are clenched to keep my wetness at bay, my body is leaning towards him, and it’s like everything about me, except my brain, is accepting the tension between us.

We’re meant to be.

“I’m not tense.” the lie rolls off my tongue easily and he chuckles again. It’s sickening how attractively he does it.

“I promise you, Dahlia, I won’t touch you or mention anything about that night. It was a one-night stand,” he says and it makes my heart crack inside my chest. “You deserve to be comfortable and happy. And I hate the way you still have sadness in those beautiful eyes,” his voice drops to a soft whisper as he searches my eyes, and as I open my mouth to say something, the door opens.

“I’m sorry about that. What did I miss while I was gone?” Oliver asks and slides back into the seat he left a few minutes ago.

“Is everything alright with the emergency?” Professor Moreau asks, flipping back to his professional side smoothly, and my shoulder relax.

My body physically relaxes, but my mind is tangled up with a hundred worried thoughts. He did not only call me by the fake name-- Dahlia, but he also saw the sadness I’ve been hiding all along.

How on earth am I supposed to let go of a man like him?

The two men start to talk about Oliver’s education again and I zone out. I lose focus and go into my own head. They talk for ten minutes before Oliver finally taps my leg. “It’s time to go, baby,” he says.

My eyes briefly meet the professor’s, and he looks away from me immediately.

Great, the one person who actually saw through my facade is the one person who shouldn’t look at me twice.

I hate my life.

With Oliver’s arm around my waist, we leave the office together as boyfriend and girlfriend. Still playing the role with each other.

“Don’t forget about our date tonight. I’ll hang out with the boys and give you time to get dressed,” he says and I whisper a small, “okay.”

Okay.

Just okay.

“See you later, baby,” he says loudly and strolls away with his hands in his pockets.