Stopping right before I'd have to actually walk past his desk and let him get behind me, I take another swallow of my water and wait for him to leave. He doesn't. The silence stretches out and starts to become awkward.
“I have another class now,” he says. “If you want your spanking, you’ll have to come to my office during tutoring hours.”
Oh fuck this guy.
I take another step toward him, smiling coolly. I know how to play the role of ice princess. I know how to make a man crawl. No woman in my family gets to be eighteen years of age without knowing how to bust some balls.
“You should speak to me with respect," I tell him as I approach him. “One phone call to my father, and you’re a dead man.”
“One phone call to your father, and you're back in Italy before you can say buongiorno,” he smirks right back at me. “Run along, little girl. And be sure to do your homework.”
"I don't think so," I say, standing my ground, knowing I won the battle of wills last night, and I can win again. “I think you’re going to give me an A+ for this class, professor, and if you don’t, your life’s going to get very difficult.”
He gives me a hard look, then that smile breaks through, the one that makes me feel warm all the way to my insides. “You are your father's daughter, Mia,” he says, with an easy familiarity I don’t like. I don’t know this man, not really. But he seems to know me. Really know me, right to the core where all the dirtiest, most secret parts are locked away.
“Yes," I say coolly. “I am. So. About that A.”
He shakes his head at me. “You really want that thrashing, don't you?” His eyes darken with undeniable lust, and despite my anger, a little twinge of excitement makes my heart race. “I bet you’re pretty when you cry, Mia.”
Fuck. And just like that, I'm afraid again.
He reaches out across the desk and cups my chin. I can’t believe he’s touching me. Contact with him is like heaven, rough and hot and hard. But it’s his words that really get a reaction. He murmurs them softly, but they're so gently brutal my heart skips a beat when I hear them.
“Those big baby blues are going to water for me, sweetheart.”
Splash!
I throw my water in his face. Thank fuck for wide-mouth designer Yeti, because with one flick of the wrist I’ve doused him with the whole fucking bottle.
“Yours first," I smirk as he stares at me, his professional facade falling to reveal the monster that lurks inside my so-called professor. His face is dripping, and I’ve soaked his shirt too. But that's not what gets my attention. It's the look in his eyes, the sudden punitive fire which animates his way too handsome face.
“That was a mistake, Mia,” he growls.
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I must have tripped!” I squeal the words loudly, putting my hands to my face in a mockery of apology. “Oh my, professor, I'm so sorry! Let me get you some tissues from the women's bathroom!”
With that, I rush out the door, leaving him standing there, completely soaked. I have no intention of bringing him tissues, obviously. He’s going to have to clean himself up.
I go and catch up with my new friends, and we head off to our next classes. They help me forget things for a little while, and I need to fucking forget. What will he do in retaliation? Will he report me to my father? Will I be sent home? I want to groan and bang my head against a wall. Just when I finally got some freedom to be who I really am...
When classes are finished, we head out for a bite to eat, which translates into going to a bar, of course. I need a drink or four after the last twenty-four hours of absolute bullshit. Starting college is one thing. Starting college with a fucking mobster for a professor? That's something else completely.
The loud music and the press of people at the bar grows over the course of the night. I drink more. They should be carding, but the only card I need to get what I want is a black card.
“Well hey, stranger.”
A languid drawl floats through the crowd. I turn around and I see Davo.
“Oh. Hey. Davo, I’m so sorry about that guy. Are you okay?”
“No worries,” he grins. He has a massive black eye where his head must have hit the wall, but his spirits are otherwise unbroken. I’m guessing having free access to whatever drugs he wants helps with that.
“I feel so bad, he’s such an asshole," I say. “I’m going to pay you for everything he took and then some.”