Babysitting The Professor Son Novels & Stories

"I'm just curious. Why would the professor punish someone for not cherishing their wife? Isn't the professor just a teacher? Aside from teaching, are teachers supposed to care about whether their students cherish their wives or not?" "The professor I'm talking about isn’t a regular teacher," Lucas clarified. Since Lucas had abandoned the idea of framing Sean for a murder he didn't commit, he had become more patient with Sean. "He's my boss." "Your boss?" Lucas didn't elaborate further, and skillfully changed the subject. "He'll be your boss too in the future. If you join us, I guarantee you'll soar to great heights. Also, your family will become prominent figures in Richburgh. No one will ev

Their names were Bart, Sebastian, Daniel, Dorian, Gabriel, Heathcliff, and Salvatore. They lived in a mansion with an old professor by the name of Adam Henry. I called him Professor Pops because that's what the guys called him. He wasn't their real father as far as genetics went, but I'd never seen a man love his sons more than Professor Pops loved his adopted boys. Sometimes I got a little jealous since my dad and stepmother were gone a lot - like right now. They were in St. Bart's doing what, I had no idea. Staying away from me, probably.

Shanon half-dreamily looked at her son. "He's not even two years old yet." "Just try it. You will get advice from an expert about your child's intelligence." “I will discuss it later with my husband. He's a bit busy, and he hasn't called me all day.” “Wow, he really is an ass type, huh?” “You're not the first person to comment like that. By the way, where have you been?" “I met with Professor Anderson Pym to discuss my study plans. He was the only professor who responded to dozens of emails I sent to several different professors. How about you? Who is your mentor?”

But then his expression shifted to something that might have been amusement. "Nathan," he said finally. "Nathan Morrison. Though I prefer to maintain formal boundaries with my students, so Professor Morrison will continue to suffice." “You’re Professor Morrison’s brother?” I asked perplexed. “His son,” he said quietly, holding my gaze. “James Morrison is my father.” “That would explain why you’re so young. You look more like a student than an actual professor even though you try to dress old and…” I trailed off realizing I was now the strange one.

“Relax? Bro, you’re telling me to relax? My life and certificate depends on this!” “Ow, you’re loud,” he said while poking his fingers in his ears. I kissed my teeth and eyed him. He needed to start speaking before I forced it out of him. He smiled and placed his hand on my shoulder. “Start talking.” “Tch. Whatever. His name is Dr. Anthony Marison—” “I already know his name,” I said in a dry tone of voice. “Right. He is not always in school according to my sources. It says he has other jobs or so. Something way more important than being a professor. Anyway, he is like a virtual teacher but I hear he is in his office right now.”

“No. I don’t want that. I’m not ready to be hopping in any saddles. I’m just looking to be a good father to my son. I’m a little late to the party, but I’m going to give it my all.” “You’ll find love again or it will find you,” he said with confidence. “It’ll have to wait.” He checked his watch. “We should probably head to class. Our pretty professor has a thing for promptness.” I laughed. “I got that same impression. I don’t want to get put on the spot again.” “You’re lucky she didn’t make you enact any parts.”

I mumbled. “Whoa, quite a grip you got there. Let me introduce you to my sons, Jack and Phoenix. Boys, you’ve met Denise, and this is her lovely daughter, Robyn.” I lifted my eyes just enough to get a look at the two guys who were leaning against the doorframe behind their father. Mom had told me the professor had two grown sons, but I hadn’t expected them to be there to meet us on moving-in day. Maybe Professor Williams had conscripted them to help carry our boxes.

I tried to keep my hand from shaking. "The whole school is talking about the 'Midnight Muse,'" he said. He sat down across from me. "They say a certain scholarship student is spending her nights at the Professor’s house. Is it true, Sera? Are you helping him with his 'archives' until dawn?" "I’m his assistant," I said. "You know that. The Professor said it at the gala." "Assistants don't usually go home in the dark with their hair a mess," Dominic said. He leaned over the table. "Someone is watching you, Sera. Someone followed you last night."

He is a person under forty and looks suspicious too. “Sorry for the delay,” the professor said after giving me a quick look. “Oh, what is a pretty girl like you doing here?” The teacher said as he approached me. "You take care, Grandpa," I said sarcastically, then sat down on the chair and heard laughter, and it turned out to be one of the boys. "Oh look who's on fire," said Jackson, mocking the professor. "Sit down, everyone; I don't want to hear any sound," the professor said angrily.

Something flickered across his face—surprise, quick and gone—before it smoothed back into the same cold expression he wore in class. “Sit.” I started toward the chair and stopped. The bruises on his right forearm were dark, fresh, running from just below the elbow toward his wrist. I’d seen marks like that on my father more than once. Professor was a title. It wasn’t where the real money came from. I didn’t know exactly what Julian did when he left the house, but I knew it wasn’t clean. “You’re hurt.” I crossed the space before he could answer and reached for his arm. He pulled back like the contact burned.