“It feels like shit.”
“Perhaps you shouldn’t pour schnapps into your coffee.”
I shudder at the memory of glugging it neat. It’s no wonder I feel so terrible this morning. “Do you have any aspirin?”
“That’s the last thing you need to take on an empty stomach.” He turns on his heel and walks toward the door.
“Where are you going?” I ask, my gaze raking over his broad back and lingering on the tight ass beneath those gray sweatpants.
“To get you a hangover remedy that won’t eviscerate your insides.”
“Uh… Okay.” I sink back into the pillows and take in my surroundings.
It should belong to the movie set of Beauty and the Beast, except that it’s completely devoid of color. The only thing that isn’t a shade of white is the silver filigree around the headboard and on the furniture’s curved legs.
It’s so understated and elegant, just like Professor Segul, but on closer inspection, intricate and artistic. Ornate cornices decorate the ceilings and frame the mirrors. It’s all coordinated to fit with the beautiful crystal chandelier.
This is the complete opposite to the house I used to call home, where everything was mismatched and grimy. My heart sinks at the thought of Dad. Not that I miss the miserable bastard, but the emotions I’d been trying to numb with drink the night before rise to the surface.
I truly thought that Professor Segul had also discarded me. My throat thickens, and the backs of my eyes grow hot. I’m not crying. But as my head dips, a tear falls onto one of the silk squares.
“What the fuck?” I rub my eyes with the back of my hand, but that only makes things worse.
Soft footsteps pad across the room. “Are you alright?”
“Yeah,” I say, my voice thick with emotion. “It’s just my head.”
He sets down a silver tray on the bedside table and slips his fingers beneath my jaw. I cringe as he tilts my chin upward so our gazes meet.
“Tell me what’s wrong.”
The gold flecks in his eyes burn brighter than the morning sun, coloring his irises an intense turquoise. I can’t tell if he’s furious or irritated, but I can’t stand to be the cause of his sour mood.
My gaze darts to his sharp cheekbone, and I reply, “It’s nothing.”
“I will not ask you twice.”
I swallow.
“It really isn’t a big deal.” Before he says something that will make my skin tighten into goosebumps, I add, “Last night, all kinds of stupid things ran through my mind.”
“Elaborate.”
I shake my head. “My dad either blocked me or changed his number or someone could have erased his phone. I don’t know. I saw you last night with her and I thought this was a pattern. You know, people being into me one moment and then doing the complete opposite the next.”
Professor Segul pulls back his hand. “Am I a surrogate father figure?”
“No,” I say, determined not to mention the word sugar daddy. “My dad was a dick, and you’re—”
“Also a dick?”
My eyes snap back to his. “Huh?”
“Last night, you called me a dickhead.”
“That doesn’t sound like me.”
“Do you doubt my word?” He raises a brow.