Page 21 of Unapologetic Obsession
I expected Miles to ask me to wait at Professor Maxwell’s workstation. Instead, he led me to an adjoining room and knocked on the door.
“Come in,” Professor Maxwell said from the other side.
Miles hesitated, seemingly struggling with a thought. Finally, he confessed, “Professor Maxwell asked that you assist him today.”
Me?
I thought he would kick me out for sneaking into his lab. At best, he would punish me with more terrible chores. Other than his vetted research assistants, no one was allowed to help him with his work. Even then, he chose the most capable ones that didn’t piss him off. No wonder they were all staring at me, wondering how I had caught his attention. A sinking feeling settled into my stomach at all the unwarranted attention. This request was odder than the one from last night to see the long-term care plan for my scars. I didn’t understand this man or his motivations.
“He has never allowed a student to help with his work,” Miles echoed my thoughts. “Especially a female one,” he added pointedly. “For whatever reason, he’s giving you a chance. Don’t blow it by hitting on him,” he stated bluntly as if I were shamelessly flaunting my goods for his attention.
I quickly shook my head, trying to convey I would never do such a thing.
Miles turned the knob and opened the door to the interconnected room. Peering around at what looked like the professor’s office, I found him sitting at the edge of his desk, reviewing something in a manila folder. Since the lecture, he had taken off his lab coat and undone the top few buttons of his shirt. The sleeves of his light blue shirt were rolled up to reveal his strong, veiny forearms. My eyes bulged. The glimpse of histanned, muscular chest might as well be soft-core porn. What was he thinking, sitting in his office, dressed likethat?
“Did you find out about the long-term care plan?” he asked without looking up from his notes.
The question was meant for me, but I peeked at Miles for confirmation.
“Unless he’s your primary care physician, the answer won’t be written on his face.”
I gulped and returned my attention to Professor Maxwell, who was now glaring at me for some undisclosed reason.
“You can go, Miles,” he ordered coldly.
With a nod, Miles shut the door behind him as if he had done his job by delivering the package. I stared after him, silently begging him not to leave me alone in the lion’s den.
When I returned my attention to Professor Maxwell, another flicker of irritation crossed his expression at my seeking out Miles. “Stop staring at the door,” he muttered under his breath. He appeared to exercise immense restraint to keep from barking at me.
Was he trying to be nice?
“Did you find the care plan?” he pressed.
I shook my head.
I was too young when the incident occurred, and I asked my father if my attending physicians provided a long-term plan. It turned out that no one had followed up with the doctors. My family was busy tracking down the assailant. Because, of course, it was more important to deal with anyone threatening the Ambani name rather than taking care of the eleven-year-old who was nearly stabbed to death. I had Professor Maxwell to thank for making me face the harsh reality. It made me wish I could shed the burden of being an Ambani.
“I figured as much.” He held up the document in his hand. “That’s why I made one.”
My body stiffened at the unexpected declaration. He was a world-renowned physician and scientist. Why did he care about some scars on my body or make a medical plan for me?
I didn’t dare ask and merely nodded, accepting the folder. He watched me quietly as I studied his notes.
Anti-inflammatory diet plan.
Topical treatments.
“How well do you know Mr. Doyle?”
My fingers froze before I could turn the page and review the rest of his carefully crafted plan. The abrupt question and the accusation in his deep voice were more staggering than the extensive plan he had drawn up for me. My mind blanked, and I asked, “You mean Matt?”
His eyes twitched when I uttered Matt’s name. It was the most expressive thing he had done thus far.
More so, we were both surprised that I had spoken at all. Sometimes, he shocked me just enough to speak without thinking.
Professor Maxwell folded his arms across his chest. Everything about him was closed off as he waited for my response. Unlike last night, he exercised more patience. Perhaps because he wasn’t pestering me, the words jumped to my lips.
“I don’t know him that well,” I whispered, focusing on a spot on the floor.
