Page 28 of Duplicitous
Professor Asshole’s expression is completely impassive. “Fantasy has no place in my course. You don’t need a History degree for that.”
My eyes sting, but not with embarrassment; I’m furious.
“I have every right to be here,” I seethe. “What are your qualifications,Professor?”
Amala gasps beside me, but I don’t tear my glower from my new archenemy.
“I’m not required to take part in this icebreaker.” He’s still cool and infuriatingly remote. “You can find my bio on the university website.”
My jaw works, chewing on words I don’t dare hiss at him.
I cross my arms over my chest, choosing not to engage further. I came to York to learn, not argue with one of the hottest, rudest men I’ve ever met.
Professor Asshole holds my future in his hands, and one bad grade from him could tank my qualifications.
I plan to teach when I complete this course so I can earn a modest living while I write my novels. I don’t expect overnight success, and I can’t afford to write fulltime once my inheritance runs out in a year or so.
But I won’t give him further vulnerable information about myself that he can somehow use against me. I’ve had enough of him trying to tear me down to nothing in the space of a few minutes.
“Alright, then.” He shrugs and moves on, appearing almost bored. “Who’s next? Let’s get this over with.”
I manage to draw in a deep breath and unclench my fists when Amala jumps in to take the heat off me. Even though she was clearly intimidated when Professor Asshole snapped at her about being on her phone, she’s brave enough to draw his attention.
I’m not sure what I’ve done to earn her friendship and loyalty so quickly, but I’m grateful for it.
I resolve to be more social than usual to express my gratitude. I’ve always been reserved, keeping myself apart to avoid people asking too many questions about my past.
But this is a new life I’m starting in a completely different country. I might risk letting people in for the first time since I left my foster home.
Screw it. I’m going out with my classmates tonight. And we can all commiserate about how awful Professor Hirst is over a few drinks.
8
RAND
Ihave to keep a closer eye on Karolina than ever if I’m going to figure out how to win her heart.
I’ve just finished installing the hidden camera in her bedroom when she comes home early. My heart leaps into my throat.
Her rented flat is small; it’ll take less than a minute for her to walk through the cramped living room, and then she’ll see me in her private space.
She’ll scream, and I’ll end up behind bars.
I dive into her tiny closet, crushing her sparse clothing out of my way. I close the door just in time.
My blood pounds in my ears, but I clearly hear her soft sigh as she steps into the bedroom and turns on the bedside lamp. Warm yellow light illuminates her heart shaped face, highlighting her defined cheekbones.
There are thin slats on her closet door, allowing me a slightly obscured view of her.
I hope to hell she can’t see into the shadows where I’m hiding.
My chest is too tight, and fear dances down my spine at the prospect that she might hear my short, sharp breaths. I suppress a shudder.
It’s inherentlywrongto feel afraid of Karolina.
She takes her phone out of her bag.
My phone vibrates in my pocket. Panic spikes through me, sharp enough to pierce my racing heart.
