Total pages in book: 164
Estimated words: 157308 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 787(@200wpm)___ 629(@250wpm)___ 524(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 157308 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 787(@200wpm)___ 629(@250wpm)___ 524(@300wpm)
Even if he didn’t lie about them falling out over his vasectomy, he did pretend he didn’t know who I was to his brother.
“Do you need something, Miss Sinclair?”
“Why did you pretend not to know me?”
“I will say this once, and only once, because I admit my actions require explanation.” He didn’t look up from the paper. “The other night, I was going through a difficult time. We hadn’t been introduced, so I didn’t recognize you until you told me your name. At that point, I should’ve excused myself, but it had been a long day and talking to someone without the complication of who I was and who they were—appealed too strongly to my impaired judgment. I apologize for the boundaries that were crossed. If I’d known you were also my student, none of that would’ve happened.”
“You mean giving me alcohol, flirting with me, letting me—”
He snapped his head up, eyes flashing. “Enough.”
I swallowed the rest. No, I was not dealing with the same fun, cute guy from the night before.
“I’m your professor. You’re my student. Our relationship will be strictly professional from here on.”
“I’m not just your student. I’m marrying your brother.”
“Engagements end every day.”
I bristled—hearing Saylor’s voice in my ear. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
Adonis sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It means that my relationship with my parents has been strained for years, but not my relationship with my younger brother. I know this marriage is a business arrangement. If you two make it down the aisle, we’ll find a way to get along as brother- and sister-in-law. Until then, we keep things professional.”
“Professional? You can’t even look me in the eye while giving me your prepared brush-off.”
I didn’t normally speak to my teachers this way. I could possibly accept his explanation, if he wasn’t acting like I did something wrong by being fooled by his deceit. Snapping and shutting me down? This was less a conversation and more a scolding.
“I’m not looking at you because I’m reading your essay,” he breezed.
“What? Don’t do it in front of me.”
“It’s a good thing I did. This is terrible.”
My expression froze. “Excuse me?”
“I’m only halfway through,” he said, frowning at the page, “and I don’t want to bother going on. This is uninspired drivel. Something you’d write for a college admissions essay. A life helping others is the most rewarding life I can lead.” He snorted. “Did you read that off an airport advertisement?”
“But— But I—”
“There’s no heart here. No passion. You might as well be talking about a stamp collectors’ museum or a yarn exhibit. I can’t feel your excitement for the career you’ll work for forty-plus years.”
“I am passionate,” I cried. “This is important to me. It’s what I’m meant to do.”
“This is English class, not speech class. There’s no point telling me.” Professor Anthony thrust the paper at me. “Redo it. Turn in a new paper by tomorrow. My office hours are three to five.”
“Are you kidding me?”
He cocked a brow. “Your other option is for me to grade it as is. Spoiler alert: you’ll get a D.”
I plucked the paper from him, stuffing it in my backpack. “I like you better when you’re drunk.”
A vein jumped in his forehead. “Have a nice rest of your day, Miss Sinclair.”
“You too, Professor Anthony.”
The rest of my day was good because I didn’t wind up with any other professors that I drunkenly kissed.
After English was biology class, lunch, and then calculus finished up the school day. For students moving up to premed, environmental science, or psychology, they needed a few specific classes in their general schedule. That’s where the major prep classes came. I had to do anthropology as a social science with everyone else in the class, on top of the psychology intro class. Lucky for us Regalians, we took more credits per semester than the average college student.
I deflated on a bench outside the Cultural Diversity Center. The first day and I had an online calculus quiz, three chapters to read in biology, and a paper to rewrite. I didn’t want to think about what the next day had in store for me especially since my weekend was full. I had dinner with my loathsome fiancé, and a party to crash.
Owen came out of the center walking in the middle of a bunch of sophomore guys. He didn’t notice me on the bench as he turned in the opposite direction—his classes of the day over. I trailed a good distance behind.
Saylor said Owen was throwing a party and I doubted it was in his dorm room. The ones they gave us were pretty big, but if it was an all-Royals-and-one-Rogue party, they’d need more room.
That left one of his buddies’ frat houses, or his folks’ place. Breaking into a mansion was more difficult than a frat party, but neither would do me any good if Owen was surrounded by people the whole time. I’d be at that party, but just in case, I needed to know his routine as a backup.