Page 7 of Colton

“Come in.” The deep voice sends chills down my spine.

I swallow a knot in my throat, before hesitantly reaching for the doorknob, twisting it and pushing it open. The scent of freshly brewed tea hits my nose, and although I can’t pinpoint what the scent is, it’s flowery and sweet.

He’s the first thing I see when the door closes behind me.

He’s sitting behind his desk in his leather chair, holding a tea cup in his hand. His eyes are glued to me, and my heart skips a beat. His graying hair makes something inside of me flutter, the depth of his gaze making it impossible to look away. He has me hypnotized with a mere gaze, and there’s nothing I’d rather be than a bird, locked in his cage.

“How may I help you, Ms. Evans?”

His words snap me out of the trance, and my cheeks flush. There’s no way he didn’t notice I was gawking at him, right?

“You remember my name?” The question falls from my lips, and I swallow thickly. Somehow, the fact that he knows who I am makes my chest ache in all the best ways possible.

“I remember every single student.”

Oh.

That saddens me, and I don’t quite understand why. Yes, I find the man in front of me attractive, he’s possibly one of the most handsome men I’ve ever seen. However, the chances of anything happening between us has always been zero, so why am I this disappointed?

“What brings you here, Ms. Evans?”

“I’m here to pick up the materials for my economics assignment,” I try to keep my voice from shaking. “My apologies for not making an appointment, sir.”

He chuckles. “Ah, how refreshing to see someone with manners. Join me for a cup of tea, won’t you?”

“I couldn’t possibly impose.”

“Sit.”

There’s no denying that simple, small command. My feet carry me toward the chair across from his desk and when he stands up, my heart skips a beat, yet again.

He’s dressed in a tailored suit, as always. However, it’s his towering figure that makes my breath hitch. I’ve always known that he was very, very tall, but seeing him stand over me as he reaches for an empty tea cup on the shelf; next to me, is something that I’m struggling to believe.

I’m about to have tea with the man of my dreams.

He’s so perfect that it’s almost painful to watch.

His shoulders are broad, and although he has a blazer over his dress-shirt, I can tell the man works out. I bite the inside of my cheek, trying to ignore the way he seems to ignite a fire within me. Something I never knew existed.

He turns, then puts the porcelain cup in front of me, with a matching saucer. He pours the hot tea from the pot, the steam going upwards. It’s definitely what I smelled when I first entered the office.

“May I ask why are we having tea, sir?”

He returns to his desk, leaning back and looking at me. “Such a curious thing. Well, it’s not a difficult question to answer. However, I want to ask a question first — why did you agree to have tea with me?”

Is this man testing me? If so, why the hell? This seems like a mind game that he’s thought of, and since I don’t know the rules, there’s no way I could win, or even keep up. It’s on a psychological level, and proves that he has some sort of a hidden agenda.

But what does he want from me?

I come from a very humble background, and I’m here on a scholarship. He has nothing to gain from me, nor would he have anything to gain by getting rid of me. What is his motive? And why is he staring at me so intently, it’s like he’s trying to read into my soul?

“Because you asked,” I respond.

“That’s it?” He lifts a brow. “I’m disappointed.”

“What were you expecting? I don’t have any hidden agendas, unlike you,” I scoff, then quickly add, “Sir.”

He laughs, and I freeze. The laughter leaving his lips is as deep as his voice. He brings the cup to his lips, taking a sip. He’s elegant doing so — and my eyes can’t help but wander to the two unbuttoned buttons of his shirt. There’s a lot of ink peeking through, and it’s making my cheeks heat.