Page 289 of The Professor's Wife

The shift in the air, the weight of another presence.

He was there.

Oliver.

Heart in my throat, I slowly turned around.

He stood in the doorway, face blank, eyes hollow. A void of emotion. It was worse than anger; it was nothingness.

“What do you think you’re doing?” His voice was flat, chilling.

My breath caught. “I…”

The words caught in my throat. I glanced at the camera, wondering if he’d watched me come in. Wondering how long he’d been here, waiting for me.

“The cameras aren’t recording,” he said. “I never said I couldn’t watch them. And what was your explicit order, Daisy?”

To stay in the nook area all day.

To be perfect.

My lips trembled. I couldn’t speak.

“Now tell me,” he continued. “What do you think you’re doing right now?”

“I…”

“You what?”

I drew in a breath. “I…I need to leave.”

He stepped closer. “Leave?”

I shook, and the frames rattled in the satchel. His eyes darted toward the bag.

“You didn’t think I’d know you were sneaking around with that dirty busker?” His eyes traveled over me with cold disgust. “You fucking whore.”

“Then let me go,” I pushed out. “If that’s what you think of me, why do you still want me?”

“Wantyou?”

Something almost amused touched his face.

“You think what you did changes what you are to me?”

I tightened my hold on the satchel. “It changes everything.”

“No, Daisy.” He stepped closer. “It changes what happens next.”

My skin broke out in sweat.

“You made a mistake,” he continued. “A humiliating, disgusting mistake. But mistakes can be corrected.”

“I’m not one of your students!”

“No. You’re far more important than that.”

“Why?” My voice broke. “Why can’t you find someone else to torture? Why does it have to beme?”