Page 15 of The Professor's Indecent Obsession

My shoulders loosen a fraction. The praise helps. Maybe I was just overthinking things. Maybe he’s just… an eccentric industry guy. There are a lot of those, right?

I fold my hands in my lap and smile again. “I’m really glad you think so.”

“Oh, I don’t think so,” he says, leaning forward, eyes gleaming. “I know so.”

His voice lowers, like we’re co-conspirators in something brilliant and rare. “And that’s why I wanted to meet in person. I’ve got a plan, Callie. A real one. You’re not gonna be stuck in some slush pile, praying for scraps. You’ve got a voice that deserves a spotlight.”

My heart lifts a little, but it’s cautious. Bracing.

He leans back in his chair, stretching his arms like this whole thing is just too exciting for his body to contain. “So here’s what we do. We get a custom cover designed, with bold colors, professional typography, real polish. Something that stops an editor in their tracks when they open your file. The big five? They get thousands of submissions a month. You’ve got one shot to stand out. You with me?”

I nod slowly, unsure. “Okay. That makes sense…”

“Exactly!” he says, as if I’ve given him a green light. “I’ve got a guy. He’s the best. Normally charges five grand minimum, but I got him down to two for you.”

I blink. “Two… thousand?”

He waves it off like it’s nothing. “A steal. For what you’re getting? Totally worth it.”

I stare at the tablecloth, heart thudding. “I… I can’t afford that.”

He pauses. Tilts his head. “Didn’t you say you really want to be published?”

“I do,” I say quickly, guilt prickling at my throat. “But I’ve already skipped meals for this. I’ve taken on tutoring jobs, late shifts. Every spare dollar I have goes into my writing.”

He nods sympathetically. “Maybe your family can help you out?”

I glance up. “No. My dad left a year ago and my mom’s been struggling to take care of my younger siblings ever since. This book was supposed to be my way to help my family out, so Mom wouldn’t have to worry anymore.”

His smile tightens just slightly, but he recovers fast.

“Look, I think it’s great you want to do this for your mom,” he says smoothly, lowering his voice like we’re sharing something intimate now. “This isn’t ideal. But maybe… we can work something out.”

His hand touches my arm and I freeze.

His fingers linger, too familiar. Too comfortable. His eyes drag over my face with a calculated slowness, and my skin begins to crawl.

“I could front the cost for you,” he says, voice low. “And you can pay me back. Not in money. In… other ways.”

My stomach plunges.

“What?”

“You’re gorgeous, Callie. Bright. Talented. I believe in you. And all I’m saying is, there are… options. Ways to repay a favor that don’t involve emptying your wallet.”

My whole body goes cold.

I try to move my arm. His grip tightens just slightly, and he’s still smiling like nothing’s wrong.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he says, laugh soft but off. “I’m trying to help you here. You said your mom’s barely scraping by, right? You want to help her or not?”

I go still. Every nerve in me buzzing with disbelief and shame and a flicker of fear I didn’t expect.

“Let go of me,” I whisper.

But he leans in closer, and his voice is syrup-slick now. “Don’t be naïve. You think some publisher’s gonna hand you a six-figure deal just because your story’s sweet? The world doesn’t work like that, sweetheart. If you want to succeed, you’ve got to put in the work.”

My breath comes fast and shallow. My heart is pounding. My chair scrapes faintly as I shift back, trying to create even the smallest distance between us.

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