Page 21 of The Professor's Indecent Obsession

Because we have each other.

Chapter Nine

Callie:

The sun is warm through the tall café windows, spilling golden light across the table like someone poured honey over everything. Outside, the street is quiet, birds chirping, leaves dancing in a breeze that doesn’t quite reach us inside.

Roman’s across from me, sprawled comfortably in his chair like a man who owns the world and knows he’s already given me the best parts of it. His plate is half-finished, the corner of his mouth still tipped in amusement from the last thing he said. Something about my irrational hatred of cucumbers.

“I’m telling you, they taste like lies,” I say, spearing a rogue slice he snuck onto my plate and flinging it back onto his with exaggerated disgust.

He grins wickedly at me. “That’s slander. Cucumbers are crisp little angels, and you just lack the palate to appreciate them.”

“Crisp little demons,” I mutter.

And then he’s sliding a fork across the table, this time with a perfect bite of my own sandwich perched on it. “Try this instead. No cucumbers. Scout’s honor.”

I narrow my eyes. “Were you ever a scout?”

“Not officially.” He winks. “But I’m deeply committed to honorable feeding practices.”

I lean in, lips parting, and let him feed me the bite. His eyes follow my mouth as I chew like I’ve just performed an act of erotic art instead of just chewing a very ordinary sandwich.

“Better?” he asks, voice low and lazy.

I nod, smiling around the mouthful. “Okay, yeah. That bite was pretty great.”

“See?” He leans back, arms crossing behind his head, the motion pulling his T-shirt tight across his chest. “You just needed a good man to fix your life one bite at a time.”

I laugh, but God, he’s not wrong.

The strangest part of today is how light I feel. Not just physically, though my body does feel lighter somehow, like I’ve finally stopped dragging an anchor behind me. No, this is deeper. My chest doesn’t hurt when I breathe. My thoughts don’t race like they’re trying to outrun disaster. For the first time in a long time, I’m sitting still. Full. Safe.

It’s only lunchtime, and already the day has given me more than some months of my life have.

Roman insisted we skip classes today. “Mental health day,” he said while tugging a sweatshirt over my head this morning, then kissing the tip of my nose. “Non-negotiable after everything Gideon put you through last night.”

I’d tried to argue. Briefly. He kissed me quiet.

And now here we are. In this sun-drenched little café, laughing over sandwiches and mock cucumber wars.

It almost feels like a dream. But it’s not.

Because before we came here, before we even thought about food, Roman took me straight to his lawyer.

The meeting was fast and surgical. Roman laid out everything Gideon had done. I watched the lawyer’s expression sharpenwith every page of receipts, every screenshot, every voice memo. The longer we sat there, the more real it became.

There’s a case. A strong one. Fraud. Coercion. Financial misconduct. Emotional exploitation.

Roman was terrifying in that meeting. Not in volume, because he barely raised his voice, but in focus. In that quiet, burning authority that wrapped around me like armor.

I shook through half the meeting, but Roman never let go of my hand. Not once.

And after, when I was barely holding myself together, he brought me to the bank.

That’s when he did it.

He sent my mom enough money to cover the mortgage, to buy groceries, to take care of my siblings. Enough to breathe again. I doubt mom will have to work again until my youngest sister is an adult if she doesn’t want to.

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