Page 16 of The Professor's Indecent Obsession

And then, from across the restaurant, a familiar voice cuts through the low murmur of conversation.

“Get your hands off her.”

Chapter Seven

Roman

I slam the car door without bothering to lock it. My pulse is a roar in my ears, my steps too fast, too loud across the slick sidewalk. I don’t care that people stare as I throw open the restaurant doors. I’m not here to be subtle. I’m not here to be civilized.

I’m here to destroy the motherfucker who tried to con my girl.

The second I got the callback from Dave, one of the sharpest literary agents I know, I knew something was wrong. “Gideon Marks?” he’d said, voice flat. “That guy’s a bottom-feeder. Blacklisted. Total scam artist. You better tell your girl to run.”

He sent me links, receipts, screenshots—complaints from authors he conned out of thousands. Promises of publishing deals, just like he made to Callie. Always followed by invoices, excuses, and then silence once he’d got everything he could. And in one case, worse.

An accusation of sexual assault.

My vision’s gone razor sharp now. My body locked tight with cold, focused rage.

Then I see her.

Back corner of the dining room. A white-linen table. A man leaning in with rings flashing and his hand wrapped around her wrist. And my Callie is recoiling, shoulders tense, eyes wide with something that makes me want to kill.

She doesn’t see me yet. But I see everything.

I storm across the floor, ignoring the startled glances, the maître d’s sharp voice. My fists are clenched. My jaw’s grinding.

“Get your hands off her,” I shout before I even reach their table.

The man jerks back instinctively. Good. He should be afraid.

Callie gasps softly and slides out of the booth to stand behind me. I feel her hand on my back, but I can’t look at her yet. I’m locked on him.

Gideon tries to recover. Smiles, all oily charm. “Excuse me, who...”

“You’re Gideon Marks,” I say, voice low, deadly calm. “Agent, conman, and fraud. You’ve got half a dozen formal complaints against you for impersonating industry contacts and soliciting fees under false pretenses. You’re not even legally registered with the AAR.”

I don’t mention the other accusations. Not while Callie is listening. What’s she’s finding out now is bad enough.

His mouth opens. Nothing comes out.

“I know every legitimate agent in this city. And you? You’re a fucking parasite. So if you ever contact her again, I’ll have my lawyers on you so fast your scammy little empire will implode before lunch.”

He sputters. “I think you’re misunderstanding...”

I take one step closer. Drop my voice to a snarl. “Try me, and my lawyers will be the least of your worries.”

His face drains of color, and I don’t give him another second. I turn to Callie.

Her eyes are wide and shining, that fear still lingering in them. But when I offer her my hand, she doesn’t hesitate.

I curl my fingers around hers and say, low and rough, “Come on, baby. We’re done here.”

She presses into my side without a word, and we walk out of that place like it’s on fire.

I don’t stop to look back. Don’t speak. My body is humming with fury, vibrating with it. But she’s shaking beside me, soft and silent, and that’s what reins me in. That’s what keeps me from turning around and ripping that bastard’s head from his neck.

The second we’re in the car, I start the engine, one hand white-knuckled on the wheel. The other finds hers without hesitation. She’s cold and trembling. My grip is probably too tight, but she doesn’t let go.

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