Page 30 of Give In

But the cold disdain—or worse, the bored indifference—told the real story.

I was mad he was a professor with a god complex, the same as the rest. I was mad he played power games. I was mad I’d let myself hope—even fantasize—he wanted me.

More than anything, I was mad about the way he treated me at school.

No, I was furious.

My work had continued to come back with limited notations. The whole point of theories was they weren’t facts. There were views, opinions, and factors to be considered, along with numerous competing theories. Even drastically different theories could end up with the same result.

I wanted the notes he penned on everyone else’s papers. The ones offering different ideas to challenge everyone to think larger and expand their viewpoints.

One of Brooks’ papers had been almost completely red. When we’d studied together over coffee, I’d gotten to read it. It was articulate and well-formed, with valid theories. The notes weren’t there because he was a floundering student who Professor Caine was trying to help. It was how every paper was.

All but mine.

I gotnothing.

Just because he’s shit at his job doesn’t mean I’m shit at mine.

I’m a professional, dammit.

I stormed out, my eyes shooting to the bartender, Mia. She lifted a finger, and I went to the first room. There was a chance it was someone else waiting behind the curtain.

There was also a chance I would start spraying confetti out of my boobs.

I ripped the curtain to the side and narrowed my eyes at the man waiting.

Professor Caine’s legs weren’t outstretched, but his arms were spread along the back of the couch. He tilted his head toward the controls.

I didn’t move. I didn’t press the buttons, anxious to get it over with.

Placing my hands on my hips, I stayed where I was and glared harder.

Not that it did anything. He didn’t look intimidated by my fierce expression. Nor did he look remorseful. Hell, he wasn’t even amused.

Disinterest poured off him as he met my gaze, locked in a silent standstill.

I wasn’t going to be the one to break. As far as I was concerned, I would happily spend our time together making it clear with my eyes that I hated him.

Loathed him.

Then his head tilted again.

Still, I hesitated. I’d have pushed my luck had it not been for one thing.

His arched brow.

A challenge.

A quiet growl started somewhere deep in the pit of my clenched stomach and traveled up, full of animalistic frustration.

Damien Caine had taken a lot from me. More accurately, I’d sold it to him for a hundred dollars a dance.

My sleep. My comfort. My peace of mind.

I wasn’t letting him get my pride.

Ever.

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