CHAPTER 97: PROFESSOR SINCLAIR’S OFFICE

Alexia’s POV

Evening came faster than I expected, and before I could even think of an excuse to get out of it, Lucy was already dragging me toward Professor Sinclair’s office.

"Lucy, stop pulling me like a damn hostage!" I hissed, trying to yank my wrist free.

She rolled her eyes but didn’t let go. "Oh, please. If I don’t do this, you’ll chicken out and run home to sulk over Aiden instead of dealing with the very attractive problem in front of you."

I groaned. "There is no problem."

Lucy stopped and gave me a deadpan look. "Right. Then why are your hands sweaty?"

I quickly wiped them on my jeans and glared at her. "It’s hot."

"Uh-huh." She smirked. "You know, for someone who claims not to be flustered, you sure do look like a nervous wreck."

I huffed. "I just don’t want things to be awkward."

"Awkward? Babe, you let your fake husband call your professor an asshole over the phone. That ship has sailed."

I winced. Yeah... that did happen.

Before I could even protest further, Lucy stopped right in front of the door. She knocked—without warning—and my stomach dropped.

"Lucy, I swear to—"

"Come in," a smooth, deep voice called from inside.

Oh, God.

Lucy turned to me with a wicked grin. "Have fun, darling."

Before I could strangle her, she pushed the door open and shoved me inside.

I stumbled in, my heart hammering, and turned just in time to see Lucy closing the door behind me with a wink.

That traitor.

Swallowing hard, I turned around and came face to face with Professor Sinclair.

He was leaning against his desk, sleeves rolled up, collar slightly undone, looking every bit as effortlessly intimidating as ever.

His piercing blue eyes locked onto mine, filled with amusement and something else I couldn’t quite place.

"You actually came," he mused. "I was starting to think you’d run away again."

I squared my shoulders, pretending I wasn’t still trying to figure out how to breathe properly. "I said I would."

His lips quirked up. "Good."

I shifted awkwardly. "Um... about the call this morning—"

His eyebrow arched. "Ah, yes. Your husband."

I cringed at the way he said it, like he was tasting the word and finding it bitter.

He tilted his head, watching me carefully. "Tell me, Alexia... if I asked you right now if your marriage was real, would you lie to me?"

I stiffened. My throat went dry.

How the hell was I supposed to answer that?

I swallowed hard, feeling like I was being studied under a microscope. His piercing blue eyes locked onto mine, patient but expectant, as if he could read every thought scrambling in my head.

I shifted on my feet. "I... I wanted to apologize for earlier. The call. I didn’t expect that to happen."

Professor Sinclair leaned back slightly against his desk, crossing his arms over his broad chest. His shirt stretched across his frame in a way that shouldn’t have been distracting, but I needed to focus.

"I see," he murmured, tapping his fingers against his bicep. "And? Are you apologizing because you feel guilty, or because you think it affected my mood?"

I blinked. Was this a trick question?

"Uh... both?"

He let out a soft chuckle, and my stomach did a little unexpected flip. "Relax, Alexia. I’m not mad. But you should know that when I call a student, it’s for academic purposes, not personal ones. You don’t have to explain your private life to me."

Right.

Private life.

He was keeping this professional. As he should.

So why did it feel like there was an unspoken tension in the air?

I cleared my throat. "Understood."

"Good." He nodded, then gestured to the chair in front of his desk. "Now, let’s talk about why you’re really here. Your last paper—while good—was not up to your usual standard."

My stomach sank. "It wasn’t?"

He pushed off the desk, walking around it to grab a stack of papers. My eyes followed him, noting the way he moved—calm, calculated, confident. He stopped just beside my chair, flipping through the pages before handing mine to me.

"Your analysis was rushed," he noted, his voice smooth but firm. "Your points were valid, but the execution lacked depth. I know you can do better."

I bit my lip. He wasn’t wrong. I had rushed that paper. Between dealing with everything in my life and trying to keep up with assignments, I hadn’t given it my best.

"I’ll rewrite it," I offered quickly. "I can have it done before—"

"That won’t be necessary," he interrupted, stepping back toward his desk. "I want you to take your time. Your talent is in your words, Alexia. Don’t waste them on rushed work."

I stared at him, thrown off by the way he said it. There was something about the way he spoke, the way he looked at me—like he saw more than just a struggling student. Like he expected more from me.

I wasn’t sure if that scared me or thrilled me.

"I—" I started, but my voice caught when I realized how close he was again.

He leaned forward slightly, resting his hands on his desk as he studied me with a small, knowing smirk. "Are you always this nervous around me?"

My breath hitched. "I—I’m not nervous."

"Hmm." His gaze flickered to my lips for the briefest second before returning to my eyes. "If you say so."

The air between us felt charged. Not inappropriate, not unprofessional, but... charged.

I needed to get out of here before my brain short-circuited completely.

Standing up abruptly, I clutched my paper. "I’ll make sure my next submission is better. Thank you for the feedback, Professor."

His smirk deepened, but he nodded. "I’m looking forward to it."

As I turned to leave, my heart pounding, his voice stopped me at the door.

"Oh, and Alexia?"

I froze. "Yes?"

"Try not to let certain distractions keep you from reaching your full potential."

I turned to look at him, only to find that his gaze had darkened slightly, his meaning crystal clear.

I nodded once, gripping the door handle. "Noted."

And with that, I walked out, fully aware that I had just stepped into something I wasn’t sure I was ready for.

I barely had time to process what had just happened in Professor Sinclair’s office before I stepped through the school gates—only to find Aiden waiting for me.

Great. Just what I needed.

His arms were crossed, his posture casual, but his sharp gaze immediately scanned my face, taking in every detail. I must’ve looked guilty or flustered or something, because his lips curled slightly, as if he had caught me in some kind of act.

"Why are you so flustered?" he asked, tilting his head slightly.

I opened my mouth to deny it, but before I could say a word, he reached out, grabbing my wrist gently but firmly.

"Aiden—" I started, but he didn’t let me finish.

Just as I was about to enter the car, he swiftly pulled me into him, his body pressing against mine. His hand slid to my waist, firm and possessive, while his other hand lifted my chin with a featherlight touch.

Then, before I could react, his lips crashed against mine.

I gasped, but he took full advantage, deepening the kiss with an intensity that sent a shockwave through my entire body. It wasn’t just a kiss—it was a claim. His lips moved against mine with a purpose, demanding my full attention, pulling me into the moment before my brain could even register what was happening.

I barely had time to think, let alone push him away. The warmth of his hand on my waist, the way he angled my face just right—it was overwhelming, and my body betrayed me, melting into his touch even as my mind screamed at me to pull back.

By the time I came to my senses, I managed to break away, breathless. "What the hell was that?"

Aiden didn’t answer right away. His lips were still close to mine, his breath warm against my skin. He looked smug, too smug, like he had just won some kind of game.

Then, I followed his gaze.

My stomach dropped.

Across the courtyard, walking away with his usual composed stride, was Professor Sinclair.

I felt my entire body go rigid.

Realization dawned on me like a slap to the face.

"You—" I stammered, still breathless. "You did that on purpose! You... you—"

"A what?" Aiden smirked, arching an eyebrow. "Say it, Lex."

I clenched my jaw. My heart was still racing, my lips still tingling from the kiss, but now it wasn’t just from shock—it was from anger.

"You jerk," I hissed, pushing at his chest, though he barely budged. "You saw him, didn’t you? You knew he was there!"

Aiden shrugged, his grip on my waist loosening just enough for me to step back, but his smirk never wavered. "So what if I did?"

"You—" I was so frustrated I could barely form words. My brain was short-circuiting between the lingering effects of the kiss, the weight of Sinclair’s stare as he had walked away, and the sheer audacity of Aiden’s move.

He had staked his claim. Right in front of my professor.

"You are unbelievable," I huffed, turning on my heel and yanking the car door open before throwing myself into the passenger seat.

Aiden followed, sliding into the driver’s seat effortlessly. I could feel his amusement radiating off him as he started the car, his hands gripping the wheel with a sense of satisfaction.

I crossed my arms, staring out the window, trying to ignore the heat still simmering in my veins.

"You’re overreacting," he finally said, his voice laced with amusement.

I shot him a glare. "Overreacting? You ambushed me with a kiss—"

"A hot kiss," he interjected smugly.

I smacked his arm. "A manipulative kiss, Aiden! You knew he was watching!"

"And?" He glanced at me, his smirk widening. "Did it work?"

I gaped at him. "Work? What is wrong with you?"

"Lex." His voice dropped slightly, turning smoother, more serious. "Why do you care so much that he saw?"

I opened my mouth, then snapped it shut.

I didn’t have an answer. Or at least, not one I was ready to admit.

Aiden watched me for a second longer, then chuckled under his breath, shaking his head. "Thought so."

I turned back to the window, fuming. My reflection stared back at me, lips still slightly swollen from his kiss, my cheeks flushed.

No, I wasn’t going to admit that it had done something to me. That it had stirred something deeper—something that wasn’t just anger.

But the worst part?

Aiden already knew.