Page 1 of Mending Our Chance

1 Marcus

I couldn’t believe that my crazy college chick was on the other side of this door. It didn’t matter that a lot had happened in the last six years. I had returned and this time I was here to stay. Would she remember me? Would she be as excited about my business venture as I was? There was a lot of weight hanging on this meeting with her. It made this encounter more than a bitter sweet reunion. None of that matters, right now. All she needs to know is that I’m back. Fate had made it so I was crossing paths with my little city slicker once again. Pushing those last-minute thoughts to the side, I took a deep breath and reached for the metal handle.

The industrial door creaked open. Several heads near the door turned and a variety of expressions greeted me. It was clear that some of these kids recognized me from the magazine article. I nodded to the friendly faces, ignoring those that were annoyed by the fact that I dared to show my face fifteen minutes before the lecture ended. I wouldn’t have been so damn late if it weren’t for one of New York’s famous traffic stops.

I slipped into a vacant seat, set the gift bag on the desktop, and glanced down to the bottom of the classroom.

There she was—Felicity.

I sucked in a lung full of air. It was as if someone had slapped me in the face. My body tensed and a shiver rippled down my spine. As my heart hammered against my ribs, I tried to relax and leaned back in my seat, simply enjoying the sight of her again. Although my body was alive with the tension of our soon to be confrontation, the smile on my face was definitely not forced.

All that mattered, for this one moment, was that I was here. I hadn’t expected all these emotions to arise and I needed to get them under control before I went down to her. Since finding out that we were in the same city, and that she could help me, I had allowed all kinds of fantasies to fill my thoughts. And it was dangerous to fuel day dreams with emotions.

Someone pushed a syllabus onto my desk, narrowly missing the gift bag. I tore my eyes away from the woman in the center of the room and glanced down at the document. The syllabus gave me absolutely no personal information about the woman I had come to see, other than the name used: Professeressa Felìcita Saccone. So, she was flaunting her heritage and using her given name with the Italian title instead of the English name she had used in grad-school. Good for her!

One thing was for sure, it was good that I had ghosted into the classroom to watch before facing her again. Just one look at that pert little mouth on that sharp face had me weak in the knees. She was fire, and I craved the burn.

Felicity was the girl who had lit up my life before I had to run away to war. Now, I was home again and there was the possibility of rekindling what we’d once had.

It was more than pleasure this time—it was business too. Will she help me? I sure hoped so. I told myself there was no reason she wouldn’t. The real question was whether she would be over-the-moon excited about this venture—like I was—or annoyed that I was suddenly in her life again? I would be lying if I didn’t admit that I was scared to speak to her again. What if that five foot nothing of a woman saw my sorry ass again and decided I was worthless? She might laugh in my face and refuse to acknowledge what I was trying to do. Already nervous at seeing her again, the idea of her laughter twisted my stomach into knots and my palms became sweaty. I discreetly rubbed them on my knees, but I couldn’t remove the apprehension from my chest.

As she continued to make her point to the class about the importance of their research projects this semester, a flush infused her olive cheeks. As she pushed a lock of hair behind her ear, I instantly jerked at the subtly, yet familiar motion. Everything about her was intoxicating and I felt drunk, almost reeling in my seat. What the students around me didn’t know was that this professor was the best thing that had happened to any of us mere mortals. She was proud and forceful, and I felt as though a crown should rest upon her dark head. Thankfully, my upbringing had taught me how to deal with such regal women—for instance, you didn’t come courting favor with a classy lady empty handed.

My fingers twitched to stroke the wrapped present on the desk. A long time ago, her drink of choice had been Sambuca and Red Bull, but I’d thought this fine wine would be a classier option for a woman in her late twenties. Being Italian, Felicity was naturally an avid wine connoisseur. And now she was apparently the youngest faculty member at Columbia—hello Ivy Leagues. A smile crept over my face at the thought that she was a business professor at one of the elite colleges—damn, that was something. I was fucking proud of this woman. She had accomplished amazing things since I had last seen her. I, on the other hand, was just starting to pull my civilian life together.

The apprehension was all-consuming as I glanced to the clock in the corner of the room, aware that I only had a few moments to school my face before I approached her.

Some dude behind me whispered to his buddies, “She’s not that much older than us.”

It took me a moment to realize that they were talking about the shapely beauty below us. How anyone paid attention in this room was beyond me. It was obvious that their professor was something special. However, I bristled at the next words that came out of their disrespectful mouths.

“Just because she’s never had real world business experience doesn’t mean she wouldn’t be good on her knees.”

“Someone is hot for Teacher!” came the smug reply.

Knuckles cracking, I made an involuntary fist and sucked in a deep breath. I had no claim on Felicity yet, but as a gentleman, I couldn’t stand that kind of talk about a woman. They had better shut the fuck up, and soon.

“Nah, I’d take her from behind. I don’t want that intense gaze of hers on me while we’re doing it. That would be a boner-killer for sure.”

That did it. I turned and growled up at them, “You entitled pieces of shit! Shut up. Now!”

But instead of putting the fear of God into these fucks, mirth flashed across their self-satisfied faces.

A sharp voice cut through their snickers. “Is something more important, gentlemen? Or did I miss some key piece of information in the case study? The one I was providing for your benefit, I might add.”

The professor had caught us.

Shit.There goes the element of surprise.

The last thing I had heard Felicity say was something about ‘Arbitrage Theory’ before I had turned to the disrespectful shits behind me. Here was my moment. My cocky side came forward and I swiveled in my seat so that I could face the angel I had been dreaming about. Hello, Professor Felicity, good to see you. Remember me?

“You wouldn’t want to do that to the asset. You don’t know the risk sensitivity,” I drawled as my big old mouth jerked into a half smile. I was breathing a little too hard and I felt tense all over.

Felicity stared me down as she stood at the front of the lecture hall; a dark image of unbreakable pride. I was aware of every silent moment that passed between us. The twitch in her jaw was unmistakable—I had thrown her off by showing up like this.

“Don’t you mean ‘sensitivity of the asset’, country bumpkin?” sneered one of the preppy douches behind me. “Go back and pick some peaches on the farm.”

Shit. Why did I have to try and impress her? But as I stared at Felicity, I reminded myself that it was because she was the queen of business and I had wanted to start my company on the right foot.

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