ELI

I was still burning when I reached my apartment.

Not from the run. Not from the rain.

From Carter.

That moment when Liam walked in, and Carter’s jaw clenched so tight I thought he’d crack a tooth—God. Why the hell did I find that hot?

I threw my bag on the floor, face-first onto the couch.

“Get it together, Eli.”

I sat up, dragging my hands through my damp hair. Homework waited. Assignments. Case briefs. The life of a law student.

I forced myself to the desk. Laptop on. Notes spread out.

For hours, I worked. Typed. Read. Highlighted. Tried not to think about Carter’s voice, Carter’s stare, Carter’s everything.

At some point, I grabbed my phone and called Mia.

She picked up on the second ring. “You sound dead.”

“I am dead,” I groaned. “Tell me I don’t have anything due tomorrow.”

She was silent. Too silent.

My heart dropped. “Mia.”

“…You forgot, didn’t you?”

“What?”

“The test. Evidence Law. Tomorrow morning.”

I shot up in my chair. “WHAT?”

She laughed. “Oh my God, Eli. Did you seriously forget?”

I was pacing now. “We have a test tomorrow? Evidence Law? You mean tomorrow tomorrow? Like, in a few hours?”

“Yes, genius.”

“Why didn’t you remind me earlier?”

“I thought you knew!”

“Mia!”

She was still laughing. “Good luck, sunshine.”

I hung up on her and stared at my books like they were monsters.

No sleep tonight. At all.

By morning, I was half-dead.

My eyes felt like sandpaper, my hands shaky from too much coffee and zero rest. But I was in class early. Because if I was going to fail, at least I’d fail with effort.

The room was quiet except for the shuffle of papers and the groan of chairs. I dropped into my seat, dumped my bag on the floor, and pressed my forehead to the desk.

“Don’t die yet,” Maya’s voice said.

I turned my head slowly. She looked worse than me. Her braids were pulled into a messy bun, eyeliner smudged, eyes half-closed.

“You look like a zombie,” I whispered.

“You look like roadkill,” she shot back.

We stared at each other for a second. Then both groaned at the same time.

“This test is going to kill me,” I said.

“I already wrote my will,” Maya muttered. “You can have my hair products.”

I snorted, shaking my head. “You’re so stupid.”

She smiled weakly. “You love me.”

“Unfortunately.”

Before I could say more, the classroom door opened.

Professor Richards walked in. Old, stiff, glasses perched on his nose. The room fell silent instantly.

“Good morning, students,” he said, voice sharp. “Put your books away. Phones off. Bags to the side. We begin now.”

A collective groan rolled through the room.

Maya whispered, “If I die, tell my mom I wanted to be cremated.”

“Shut up,” I whispered back, shoving my notes away.

The professor dropped a thick stack of papers on the desk. The sound made me want to throw up.

“Test will last ninety minutes. No talking. No cheating. Eyes on your own work. If I see anything suspicious, you fail. Immediately.”

Someone muttered, “Yes, sir,” under their breath.

Professor Richards glared. The muttering died.

He started passing out the papers, one row at a time.

Maya leaned close as he neared. “Eli.”

“What.”

“If I don’t make it—”

“Maya.”

“—delete my search history.”

I choked on a laugh, covering my mouth.

She grinned. “Focus. Don’t get caught.”

The paper landed in front of me.

Evidence Law Midterm.

My heart sank.

First question: Explain the Federal Rules of Evidence 403 and provide one case example.

I wanted to cry.

Maya whispered, “We’re screwed.”

Professor Richards barked, “Miss Adeniran. One more sound and you’re out.”

Maya mimed zipping her lips.

I sighed, picked up my pen, and started writing.

Ninety minutes. Just ninety minutes.

If I survived this, I’d probably pass out in the hallway.

The ninety minutes crawled, but I forced myself to focus.

Rule 403. Case law. Hearsay exceptions. I wrote like my hand was on fire.

For once, even Maya was quiet. Her head bent over the paper, pen moving fast.

When the old man finally called, “Time,” we both slumped back in our chairs like corpses.

“Papers forward,” Professor Richards said. His voice never changed pitch. Not once.

We shuffled them up the rows.

He stacked them neatly, expression flat. “Results will be ready by this evening.”

I blinked. “This evening?” I whispered to Maya.

She groaned, pressing her forehead to the desk. “The old man’s a workaholic. Who grades that fast? He should at least wait a week. Give us time to recover before he destroys us.”

I laughed weakly. “Guess he enjoys our suffering.”

“Sadist,” she muttered.

We walked out together, bags slung over shoulders.

“Library?” she asked.

“Library,” I agreed.

But halfway down the hall, I nearly smacked into a wall of dark suit and colder eyes.

Carter.

Documents in his hand. Jaw tight. Expression unreadable.

I froze. “S-sorry,” I stammered.

His gaze swept over me, sharp and blank. Then: “Follow me.”

My stomach flipped.

Maya leaned close, whispering, “Ooooh, professor-student tension.”

I hissed, “Shut up.”

She grinned wickedly, lifted her hand, and made an exaggerated blowjob gesture.

I rolled my eyes so hard it hurt. “You’re disgusting.”

“Love you too, sunshine,” she sang, then skipped off toward the library.

I turned back. Carter was already walking away. I scrambled to follow, almost jogging to keep up.

He didn’t say a word. Just kept walking, documents in one hand, his coat draped perfectly on his shoulders like he was born to intimidate.

I swallowed. “Um—do you… want me to carry some of those?”

No reply. Not even a glance.

Cool. Great. Talking to a wall.

We reached his office. He unlocked it, pushed the door open, and walked straight in. I followed, clutching my bag awkwardly.

He dropped the documents on his desk in a neat stack.

“Sit,” he said.

I sat.

He opened a drawer, pulled out another folder, and tossed it on the desk in front of me. “Your duties.”

I blinked. “My… what?”

“Assistant duties.” His tone was clipped, efficient. “You’ll be responsible for compiling attendance records. Preparing reading lists. Organizing research sources. Drafting summaries.”

I flipped the folder open. Notes, spreadsheets, lists. “Okay. That’s… manageable.”

He leaned back in his chair. “You’ll also proof citations. Track case law updates. Grade basic assignments.”

My head snapped up. “Wait—grade?”

His brows lifted slightly. “Problem?”

“I—I mean, don’t you usually—”

“I don’t have time to waste on multiple-choice quizzes and half-baked essays,” he cut in. “You’ll grade them. I’ll review randomly.”

I blinked again. “So, you’re trusting me with people’s grades?”

“Yes.”

“That’s… a lot of pressure.”

“Then don’t mess up.”

I stared. “Wow. Thanks for the pep talk.”

He didn’t even blink. “You’re smart. That’s why I asked for you.”

My heart tripped over itself.

Wait. What?

“You… asked for me?”

“Yes.”

“You told the HOD you wanted me?”

“Yes.”

My jaw dropped. “Why?”

He picked up a pen, started writing something like I wasn’t having an internal breakdown across from him. “Because you’re the top of your class. And I don’t tolerate incompetence.”

I narrowed my eyes. “You could’ve just said I’m good at my job. You didn’t need to insult everyone else while you were at it.”

He looked up finally. “You want me to lie?”

I opened my mouth, closed it, then muttered, “You’re infuriating.”

His mouth twitched. Barely. Almost like—God forbid—he might’ve been amused.

He pushed another stack of papers toward me. “Start with these.”

I pulled them closer. Student essays. Typed. Margins too wide. Fonts too small. My brain already ached.

“Fine,” I sighed. “But if anyone yells at me about their grade, I’m sending them to you.”

“Do that,” he said simply.

I glanced at him. Cold. Calm. Completely unreadable.

I dropped my eyes back to the essays, chewing the inside of my cheek.

I should’ve hated this.

But instead, a stupid thought slid through my head.

Working this close to him is going to kill me.

Hours.

That’s how long I sat there, drowning in badly written essays.

Comma splices everywhere. Wrong citations. Paragraphs that made me question the future of the legal system.

I groaned, scribbling a red note in the margin. “Jesus. How do these people even get into law school?”

Across the desk, Carter didn’t look up from his laptop. “Money. Connections. Luck. Take your pick.”

I scowled. “Unfair. I actually studied.”

“Life’s unfair.” His tone was so flat it almost made me laugh.

I flipped another essay. It was worse than the last one. “This one spelled plaintiff with an ‘f.’”

He didn’t glance up. “Grade it accordingly.”

I rolled my eyes, dragging my pen across the paper.

After a while, my attention drifted. A bulky envelope sat on the edge of his desk. I squinted. Big black letters: CRIMINOLOGY.

I tapped it. “What’s that?”

Carter finally looked up. “Assignments.”

“From criminology?”

“Yes.”

I blinked. “You teach criminology too?”

“No. Substitute for a while.”

I stared at the envelope. Criminology. Which meant… Liam’s.

A devilish thought sparked. What if I graded his paper a big fat zero?

I picked up my pen, twirling it between my fingers.

Carter’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Don’t.”

I gasped. “I didn’t even do anything.”

“You were about to.”

“I was not.”

“You were.”

“Maybe,” I muttered, slumping back in my chair. “But it would’ve been so satisfying.”

“Grow up,” he said.

“You’re no fun.”

“Never claimed to be.”

I grumbled under my breath and went back to grading.

Minutes turned into hours. The essays blurred together. The ink on my pen started fading. My head got heavier and heavier until—

I yawned. Loud.

The next thing I knew, I was out cold.

When I woke up, the office was dim. My head was resting on the desk, cheek against the papers. Something heavy and warm was draped over my shoulders.

I blinked.

A suit jacket. Black. Expensive. Smelled faintly of cologne.

Carter’s.

My heart did a weird thing.

I sat up fast, rubbing my eyes. The clock on the wall glared at me: 4:55.

Shit. Results.

Professor Richards said they’d be out by five.

I panicked, shrugged the jacket off carefully, folded it, and set it on the desk. Carter wasn’t there. The office was silent.

Perfect time to run.

I bolted.

By the time I reached the library, I was breathless. Maya was already there, hunched over a computer, muttering curses.

“Maya!” I gasped, sliding into the seat next to her.

She jumped. “Jesus, Eli, you scared me. Were you still with professor Vale?”

“Long story. Results?”

She nodded grimly. “Portal just updated.”

My stomach dropped. “Oh no.”

She clicked the mouse with exaggerated drama. “Ready?”

“No.”

“Too bad.”

We closed our eyes at the same time. I cracked one open. “You check first.”

“No, you!”

“Fine. Together.”

“Count of three.”

“One.”

“Two.”

“Three.”

We both peeked at the screen.

Her groan was instant. “Shit.”

I held my breath and looked.

81.

My whole body sagged in relief. “Oh my God. I passed. I actually passed.”

Maya shoved her screen toward me. “Look. Seventy-nine. Barely. I wanted at least an eighty.”

I stared at her. “You’re crying about a seventy-nine? That’s amazing!”

She flopped back dramatically. “I wanted a distinction.”

“Be grateful, Maya. Do you know how many people failed?”

She squinted at me. “Eli, I swear, you’re like a grandma sometimes. Be grateful, work hard, blah blah.”

I rolled my eyes. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love me.”

“Unfortunately.”

She smirked. “So. What did you get again?”

I tried to look casual. “Eighty-one.”

Her jaw dropped. “You beat me? Even when you didn't study early?”

I grinned. “Guess I’m smarter.”

She shoved my shoulder. “Asshole.”

I laughed, still shaky from relief. “At least we didn’t fail.”

Maya nodded reluctantly. “Yeah. But if that old man keeps grading this fast, I’m going to die young.”

I leaned back in my chair, closing my eyes. “Join the club.”

For a moment, everything was quiet.

But in the back of my mind, I couldn’t stop thinking about the jacket.

About Carter draping it over me without a word.

And what it meant.

******

CARTER

He was asleep.

Head tilted against his arm, lips parted, hair falling into his eyes. Completely out.

For a long second, I stood there, watching.

Ridiculous. Beautiful.

For a guy.

I reached for my jacket before I could think too much about it. Draped it over his shoulders. He shifted slightly, sighing into the fabric like he’d been waiting for it.

I swallowed. My jaw clenched.

What the hell are you doing, Carter?

This was Liam’s ex. A student. My assistant. Off-limits in every way.

I turned back to my desk. Forced myself to work. Typed reports. Replied to emails. Anything to keep my eyes away from him.

It didn’t work.

Every few minutes, I glanced up again. At the way his chest rose and fell. The faint crease between his brows, even in sleep. Like he was still carrying the world in his dreams.

I pushed back from my chair abruptly and stalked to the bathroom.

Cold water. Hands. Face.

“Get a grip,” I muttered at my reflection. “He’s a kid.”

When I came back, the chair was empty. My desk bare. My jacket folded neatly where I’d left it.

He was gone.

I sat heavily, staring at the computer screen, not seeing the words. My mind was still back at the desk. The quiet weight of my jacket over his shoulders.

Ridiculous.

Then the door burst open.

Eli stood there, flushed, breathless. “I’m so sorry—”

I raised a brow. “For what?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, panting slightly. “I… had to check my results. Richards posted them. I didn’t want you to think I just disappeared.”

I nodded once. “Noted.”

Silence stretched. He fidgeted under it.

Finally, I said, “Arrange the documents before you leave.”

“Oh—yeah. Of course.”

He scrambled to the desk, pulling folders into neat stacks. His hands moved fast, like he wanted to impress me. Papers squared, pens lined up, everything precise.

When he finished, he looked up uncertainly. “All done.”

I gave a curt nod. “Good.”

He hesitated like he wanted to say more. Then the knock came.

The door opened and Maya Adeniran leaned in, smiling like she owned the place.

“Professor Vale.”

I inclined my head. “Miss Adeniran.”

“Eli, you ready?” she asked, eyes flicking between us.

He nodded quickly. “Yeah. Just finished.”

Maya grinned, then looked at me again. “See you in class, Professor.”

“Of course.”

Eli gathered his bag. They left together, voices echoing down the hall.

Silence settled back in.

I leaned back in my chair, eyes on the neatly folded jacket.

Still warm from him.

Pathetic.

ELI

Maya and I barely made it out of Carter’s office before she started.

“So.”

I side-eyed her. “So, what?”

Her grin was wicked. “You. Him. Alone. Office. Dark suit. That jawline.”

I groaned. “Maya—”

“Don’t ‘Maya’ me. I saw your face when you walked out. You looked like you just got caught watching porn at the library.”

I covered my face with my hand. “Why are you like this?”

“Because you make it too easy, sunshine.” She linked her arm through mine, leaning in close. “Come on, spill. Did he say something dirty?”

I nearly choked. “What? No!”

“Uh-huh. That’s a yes face if I ever saw one.”

I scowled. “There is no ‘yes face.’”

“There’s definitely a yes face. Yours is red.”

“I’m not red.”

“You’re tomato soup, babe.”

I tugged my arm free. “It wasn’t anything. He told me to organize papers.”

“Oh wow,” she gasped dramatically. “So sexy. Papers. God, I’m wet already.”

“Maya.”

“What? You don’t think office sex is hot?”

My brain short-circuited. “We are not talking about office sex—”

“—with Professor Vale.” She waggled her brows.

I wanted the ground to swallow me. “He’s cold. He doesn’t care. He doesn’t even smile.”

“Exactly. Ice daddy vibes. Don’t you watch TV? Cold men are the hottest. Brooding. Tragic pasts. Silent in bed until—”

“Shut up,” I hissed, grabbing her wrist. Students were passing us in the hall.

Which was exactly when she leaned closer and whispered, way too loud: “Bet he’s packing serious dick.”

Three heads turned.

Someone snorted.

I died inside. “MAYA!”

She cackled, completely unbothered. “Relax, sunshine. They’ll forget.”

I tugged her down another corridor, muttering under my breath. “I’m never walking with you again.”

“Yes, you are,” she sing-songed. “You love me.”

“Unfortunately,” I snapped, still red.

But no matter how much I denied it, my brain wouldn’t shut up.

Not about Maya’s filthy jokes. Not about the whispers in the hall.

Not about the way Carter had looked at me.

Cold. Sharp. Like he could see straight through me.

I told myself he didn’t care. That he was like that with everyone.

But then I remembered the jacket. The heat of it over my shoulders. The way it smelled like him.

And I hated myself a little for wishing he had said something dirty.

By the time I got home, I was dead.

Not literally. But close. My body was a sack of bricks, my brain a fried circuit board.

I dropped my bag by the door, kicked my shoes off, and collapsed face-first on the bed.

“Five minutes,” I mumbled into the pillow. “Just five.”

But the second my eyes shut, the world shifted.

It was his office. Papers scattered across the desk.

And me—on his lap again.

Just like before.

Only this time, he didn’t let me go.

His hand locked firm on my waist, keeping me pressed against him. His chest solid against mine, his eyes dark, unflinching.

“Running again?” His voice was low, dangerous.

My throat tightened. “I—no, I just—”

“Liar.” His hand slid higher, up my back, pulling me closer. “You always run.”

“I’m not—”

“Then stay.”

My breath hitched. His lips brushed my ear. “Stay, Eli.”

Heat. Everywhere. My pulse hammered. My body betrayed me, leaning in, wanting.

His mouth curved, cold and sharp. “You feel that? That’s what you do to me.”

I gasped.

I woke up drenched.

Sheets tangled, skin sweaty, breath ragged. My hand clutched the pillow like I’d been holding onto him.

“Oh my God.” I buried my face. “No. Nope. Absolutely not.”

It was a dream. A stupid, disgusting, hot-as-hell dream.

Of him.

I groaned into the pillow. “I hate myself.”

Before I could recover, my phone rang on the nightstand.

Maya. Of course.

I fumbled it to my ear. “Hello?” My voice was hoarse.

She cackled instantly. “Oh my God, why do you sound like you just ran a marathon? Or like—you know.”

“Maya.”

Her laugh got louder. “Sunshine, were you dreaming about Professor Tall-Dark-And-Frozen?”

I shot upright. “WHAT?!”

“Your voice says it all,” she teased. “I knew it. You totally were.”

“I was not!”

“You so were. Don’t lie to me, Eli Rivera. I know your tones.”

“Maya—”

“Bet he was pinning you against a desk. Or maybe against the chalkboard? Oh my God, yes—‘Bend over, student.’”

“MAYA!”

She was wheezing with laughter now. “Don’t hang up—”

Click.

I tossed the phone down, face flaming.

I flopped back into bed, groaning. “I need therapy.”

But no matter how hard I tried, Carter’s voice lingered in my head.

Stay, Eli.

And it terrified me how much I wanted it.

Morning came way too fast.

I dragged myself out of bed like a zombie, hair sticking up in every possible direction, brain still fried from the dream. (Yes, that dream. No, I don’t want to talk about it.)

Coffee. Lots of it. That was the only reason I made it to campus without collapsing.

By the time I sank into my seat in lecture, Maya was already there, tapping her pen like she’d been waiting to pounce.

She leaned in. “So. Did you sleep well?”

I gave her a look. “Don’t start.”

Her grin was evil. “Oh, I’m starting. You hung up on me last night, sunshine. Rude. So. Tell me. Did Tall-Dark-and-Frozen do dirty things in your dreams?”

“Maya.” I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Please, I’m begging you. Stop.”

She poked my arm. “You’re blushing.”

“I’m not.”

“You so are. Look at you. Red as a tomato.”

I flicked her forehead.

“Ow!” She rubbed it dramatically. “Abuse. I’ll sue.”

“Good. Maybe you’ll shut up long enough to pass this class.”

She stuck her tongue out but finally turned back to her notes. Blessed silence.

For about five minutes.

We headed straight to his class after.

The air in the lecture hall felt heavier somehow, like everyone sensed something. Carter stood at the front, writing on the board in clean, sharp strokes. His suit was dark, crisp, perfectly tailored. He didn’t even have to try to look intimidating — he just was.

I dropped into my seat, trying not to look.

Maya shot me a side glance. Then another.

“What,” I hissed under my breath.

She smirked. “You’re staring.”

“I’m not.”

“You’re drooling.”

I flicked her forehead again.

“OW! Stop assaulting me!”

“Then stop talking.”

Before she could reply, Carter turned. “Settle down.”

The room went silent instantly.

His eyes scanned the rows — cold, unreadable — until they landed on me.

My stomach dropped.

“Mr. Rivera,” he said. “Stand.”

My chair scraped back loudly. I stood, heart racing. “Yes, sir?”

He tilted his head, like he was already bored. “Explain the doctrine of promissory estoppel. Apply it to Central London Property Trust Ltd v High Trees House Ltd.”

I froze.

Half the class turned to look at me.

I wanted to sink through the floor.

I cleared my throat. “Uh… promissory estoppel is when a promise is enforceable by law, even if it’s not supported by consideration. Because the promisee relied on it to their detriment.”

Carter didn’t blink. “And High Trees?”

I gripped the edge of the desk, forcing myself to think. “During WWII, the landlord agreed to reduce the rent. When the war ended, he tried to claim back the full rent. The court held that he couldn’t go back on his promise because the tenants relied on it.”

The words rushed out too fast, but they made sense.

Carter studied me. Silence stretched.

Then—his lips curved. Slight. Barely there. But real.

A smirk.

“Correct,” he said finally. “Sit.”

I sat fast, pulse racing, ears burning.

Maya leaned in, whispering, “Oh my God, he smirked at you.”

“Shut up,” I hissed.

She grinned. “No wonder you’re sweating.”

“I hate you.”

But the truth? That smirk stuck in my head like glue.

The rest of class blurred. All I could see was the way his mouth curved, sharp and knowing, like he’d been testing me. Like he enjoyed watching me squirm.

When the bell rang, everyone scrambled to leave.

I tried to follow, but his voice cut through the room.

“Rivera. Stay.”

I froze.

Maya gave me the world’s filthiest wink. “Have fun, sunshine.”

“Shut up,” I muttered, but she was already gone.

The room emptied. Silence settled.

I clutched my bag tighter and walked down to the front.

He didn’t look up immediately, just stacked papers with sharp precision. Finally, he said, “You have assistant duties.”

I swallowed. “Right. Of course.”

His eyes flicked up, pinning me in place. “Don’t look so nervous. You passed Richards’ test. You should be confident.”

“I’m not nervous,” I lied.

His brow arched faintly. “You’re stuttering again.”

“I am not!”

“You are.”

My face flamed.

The hallway to his office was too quiet. Every footstep echoed. My pulse was loud in my ears, like it wanted to give me away.

Carter walked ahead of me, crisp, straight-backed, precise. He didn’t say a word. He never said a word unless it mattered.

Halfway down, he stopped at the coffee machine.

“Do you want one?” he asked, already sliding in a coin.

I blinked. He was actually asking me? “Uh—yeah. Sure. Thanks.”

He pressed the buttons. One black for himself. One with milk for me. He handed me the cup.

I took it carefully. “Thanks.”

He just nodded, like it was nothing.

We walked the rest of the way in silence, me sipping nervously, him looking like he owned the building.

By the time we reached his office, my nerves were on overload. I was so focused on not tripping, not spilling, not embarrassing myself—

That I bumped straight into him.

The coffee tipped.

Right onto his shirt.

“Oh my God!” I yelped, jerking back. “I’m so sorry!”

Hot liquid stained across his chest, dripping down the perfect white cotton.

He looked down, calm as ever. “Relax.”

“I just ruined your shirt—”

“You didn’t.” He was already shrugging out of his blazer, unbuttoning his shirt like this was routine.

My mouth went dry.

He slipped the shirt off, and—holy shit.

Muscle. Sharp lines. Tattoos curling across his chest and down his arms, dark ink on pale skin.

I froze. Completely froze.

He pulled a fresh shirt from the cabinet, casual, like stripping in front of me wasn’t ending my entire existence.

I forced myself to breathe. Don’t stare. Don’t stare. Don’t stare.

I stared.

He caught me.

His eyes flicked up, catching mine mid-gawk. One brow lifted, slow, deliberate.

“You done?”

I choked. “I wasn’t—I wasn’t staring!”

“You were.” His voice was flat.

“I wasn’t—”

“You were.”

I turned away fast, clutching my coffee cup like it could save me.

We sat down after that. Or, well, he sat down. I was still trying to remember how to breathe.

Documents were stacked in front of me. I focused hard, trying to drown in the words. Contracts. Citations. Deadlines. Anything but the image of ink curling across his ribs.

Silence filled the office, heavy but sharp. He typed. I scribbled. Paper rustled.

Then his pen rolled off the desk.

We both reached.

Our hands brushed.

Heat shot up my arm like electricity.

I jerked back instantly, knocking my own folder onto the floor. “Sorry—sorry!”

He picked up the pen calmly. “You react like I burned you.”

I swallowed hard. “You—you startled me.”

“I didn’t move.”

“Still.”

His eyes pinned me, cold, unreadable. “You’re jumpy.”

I hugged my notebook tighter. “You’re… you. That’s why.”

“Me?”

“Yes. You.” I gestured vaguely at his entire existence. “Tall. Cold. Covered in tattoos. Staring all the time. You’re… intimidating.”

His mouth curved slightly. “Good.”

“Good?!”

“It keeps people focused.”

I groaned, dragging a hand down my face. “You’re impossible.”

He leaned back in his chair, pen between his fingers. “And yet, here you are. Still working in my office.”

I glared at him, heat creeping up my neck again. “Only because I have to.”

He didn’t reply. Just smirked again, faint, sharp, and went back to his laptop.

And that stupid smirk stayed in my head the rest of the day.

ELI

I tried. God knows I tried to focus.

But my brain wasn’t working. Words swam on the page, legal citations blurred together, and all I could think about was how his tattoos looked in the light.

I shook my head, scribbling something down. Focus, Eli. Focus.

Then I hit a case I couldn’t make sense of. The paragraph tangled around itself, and my notes were just question marks.

I groaned softly and pushed back my chair. “Um… Professor?”

He didn’t look up. “What.”

“I don’t get this part.” I walked over, sliding the file toward him. “See? The way they worded it doesn’t make sense to me.”

He took the paper, scanning fast. “You missed the exception clause. Look here.” He tapped the margin.

I leaned closer. His cologne was sharp, clean, and expensive. My pulse spiked.

“Ohhh.” I nodded. “That makes more sense.”

I turned to go back to my seat—

And my foot caught on the chair leg.

I stumbled forward.

Strong fingers caught my wrist, pulling me back before I face-planted.

Straight into his lap.

Again.

“Shit!” I gasped.

My whole body crashed into his, chest to chest, thigh pressing right against him.

He groaned lowly, probably from the force.

But the sound shot fire straight through me. Heat curled in my stomach. My skin prickled.

I froze. My heart hammered so hard it hurt.

His hand stayed on my waist. Firm. Steady.

For a second, neither of us moved.

Then his voice, low, dangerous: “You really like falling on me, don’t you?”

My face went nuclear. “I—I didn’t mean to!”

“Twice now.” His lips curved faintly. “Starting to look intentional.”

“It’s not!” I scrambled to my feet, words tumbling. “God, you’re—”

He stood too, smooth, unruffled. He pulled a new document from the stack and slid it toward me.

“Review this one.”

I blinked. “Right now?”

“Yes.” He stepped closer, leaning down just enough for his mouth to brush near my ear. “Read every line. Carefully.”

His breath was warm. His voice was deep. The words sank straight through me.

I shivered. My knees went weak.

I grabbed the file like it was a lifeline. “O-okay. Sure. Yes. Reviewing. Right now.”

I stumbled back toward my desk, nearly tripping again. My face was on fire.

He sat calmly, opening another folder, like he hadn’t just whispered sin into my ear.

I lasted thirty seconds before my pen slipped out of my hand. My thoughts were gone. Completely gone.

I stood so fast my chair screeched. “I—I should go. I just remembered—I have to—uh—something.”

His eyes flicked up, cool, sharp. “Running again?”

I stammered. “I’m not running. I’m just—leaving.”

He smirked faintly. “Whatever helps you sleep.”

My entire body buzzed. I bolted for the door, clutching the file to my chest.

Maya was going to eat me alive.

********

CARTER

He ran.

Bolted out of my office like the room was on fire.

I almost laughed. Almost.

God, the boy did things to me.

That flustered stutter. Those wide eyes. The way he froze every time my hand so much as brushed his.

It had taken everything in me not to pull him closer when he landed on my lap again. Not to crush his mouth under mine. Not to fuck the shyness out of him until all that trembling turned into begging.

My jaw clenched. My hand curled around the pen I was holding.

Pathetic. What the hell was wrong with me.

That was Liam’s ex. A student. Young. Too young.

A child.

I pushed back from the desk abruptly and stood. The air in the office was too heavy. I needed to move.

When I opened the door, I stopped short.

Eli was still standing there.

Back pressed to the wall, file clutched in his arms like a shield. Eyes wide when they landed on me.

I exhaled slowly. “Get in. I’ll give you a ride.”

His mouth opened, closed. “Uh—I don’t want to bother you—”

“You already are,” I cut in. “Get in.”

He hesitated another beat, then nodded, shuffling toward the car.

We drove in silence.

He sat stiff in the passenger seat, staring out the window like I was about to eat him alive.

I almost smirked. “Relax. I’m not going to bite.”

His head whipped toward me. “You keep saying that.”

“Because you keep looking like you’re waiting for it.”

His face went red instantly. “I’m not!”

“Good.”

He crossed his arms, muttering under his breath. “You’re impossible.”

“Mm.”

The car settled into quiet again. My grip tightened on the wheel, thoughts darker than I wanted to admit.

Then my phone rang through the car system.

The name flashing on the screen made my gut tighten.

“Sorry,” I muttered, answering.

Eli blinked. “It’s fine—”

“Vale,” I said into the speaker.

The voice on the other end was sharp. Urgent.

I listened, jaw tightening, eyes on the road. “Understood. I’ll be there in ten.”

The line cut.

Eli looked at me nervously. “Everything okay?”

“No.” I flicked on the blinker, making a sharp turn.

He gripped the seat. “Where are we going?”

“Detour.”

“Detour?”

“My law firm.”

His brows shot up. “Right now? Wait, you have a law firm?”

“Yes.”

“What about me?”

“You’ll wait in the car.”

He frowned instantly. “I can come inside—”

“No.” My tone was final. “Stay here.”

“But—”

“Eli.” I glanced at him, sharp. “Stay. In. The. Car.”

He pressed his lips together, mutinous. “I don’t like being told what to do.”

“Too bad.”

His eyes narrowed. “You’re not my boss outside class.”

“Technically, I’m your boss everywhere.”

He sputtered. “You—you’re—God, you’re insufferable.”

“Good. Keeps you obedient.”

His jaw dropped. “Obedient? I’m not—”

I parked in front of the firm and cut the engine. My voice dropped low, final. “Stay here, Rivera. I won’t repeat myself.”

He glared, gripping the file tighter.

I didn’t wait for his reply.

I walked inside.

The second I stepped into the firm, the atmosphere shifted.

Every head turned. Every voice silenced.

“Good evening, Mr Vale.”

“Mr. Vale.”

“Sir.”

They bowed their heads, moved aside. The path to my office cleared instantly.

Power wasn’t loud. It was quiet. And they all understood exactly who I was.

I didn’t acknowledge them. I didn't need to. The elevator doors slid open, and I went up.

When I walked into my office, I already knew something was wrong.

The air smelled of copper.

Dante was there. My PA. My best friend. His fists bloodied, shirt streaked crimson. His mismatched eyes—one green, one blue—were sharp.

On the floor lay Brandon Pierce.

Politician’s son. Spoiled. Untouchable.

Or so he thought.

He spat blood, grinning up at me. “About time you showed up, Vale. Tell your mutt to keep his hands off me.”

Dante’s jaw flexed, knuckles twitching for another blow.

I didn’t look at him. I walked to my chair, sat down, leaned forward, pressing my palms together under my chin.

Then I dropped my hands and slapped Brandon across the face. Hard.

The crack echoed.

Blood smeared across his lip. His grin faltered.

“Do you know what you’ve done?” My voice was calm. Too calm.

Brandon sneered. “So what? Kid was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Not my fault.”

My jaw tightened.

I hit him again. Harder.

His head snapped to the side. He cursed, coughing blood.

“You killed his future,” I said coldly. “Seven years old. Paralyzed because of you. Do you feel big, Pierce? Do you feel powerful?”

He glared, defiant. “My father will clean it up. He always does. You’ll win the case like you always do, Vale. That’s why you’re here, right? To fix my shit?”

I stood and walked around the desk.

My hand closed around his throat.

He choked, eyes widening, both hands clawing at my grip.

I leaned down, voice low, emotionless. “I told you to lay low after the last case. I told you if you touched another life, I would end you myself.”

He gasped. “You… you wouldn’t…”

My grip tightened. His face turned red. His legs kicked weakly.

Dante didn’t move. He only watched, silent approval in his eyes.

Brandon’s struggles weakened. His eyes rolled back.

At the last second, I released him.

He collapsed to the floor, coughing, gagging, desperate for air.

I stepped back, smoothing down my cuffs like nothing happened. “Clean this shit up, Dante.”

“Already on it,” Dante muttered, wiping his hands on a rag. His gaze flicked to me. “He’s not worth prison time.”

I grabbed the glass of water from my desk. Threw it hard at the wall. It shattered, fragments scattering across the floor.

My chest rose and fell once. Twice. Then I straightened, my expression back to steel.

“You think your father can save you again?” I asked Brandon coldly.

His eyes flickered with fear. Just for a second.

“Get him out of my sight,” I told Dante.

Dante smirked darkly. “Gladly.”

He hauled Brandon up by his collar, dragging him toward the door.

I rubbed my throat absently, forcing the tension out of my muscles.

Control. Always control.

But then I turned.

And froze.

Eli stood at the doorway.

His eyes were wide, mouth open, face pale. He had seen everything.

For once, my mask almost slipped.

Almost.

He blinked at me, stunned, voice breaking the silence.

“Well… fuck.”