Page 35 of Unapologetic Obsession
“Rose, where’re you going?” He grabbed my shoulders to steady me, but I stepped away so fast that the stool behind me knocked over.
“Whoa! Be careful.” Sophie jumped as the metal stool hit the ground.
“Are you okay?” Matt sounded equally puzzled by my frantic nature. He tried reaching for me again, but I was already halfway to the door.
Their concerned voices followed me out. Their confusion made sense. I was confused, too, and couldn’t explain myurgency to leave. Something inside me screamed that even if it were impossible to break through Professor Maxwell’s hard exterior, I couldn’t let the matter rest.
I had to get home and bake the best cake of my life.
Chapter
Thirteen
ROSE
Three hours later,I balanced a round cake box in my hands as I walked down the hallways of the chemistry building. My conversation with Sophie and the three glasses of champagne had put me in a daze. After the fundraiser, I found myself in my apartment, putting my baking skills to use with a showstopping dessert.
I didn’t know what I expected to accomplish, only that I couldn’t get Sophie’s story out of my head. Suddenly, I needed to bake every treat Professor Maxwell’s mother had refused him. Hell, I would even write notes with them if it revived some of his lost innocence.
Feeling particularly proud of my creation, I straightened the box to display its contents through the clear plastic window. This was my masterpiece—two layers of yellow cake with strawberry jam filling, hazelnut frosting, and a chocolate ganache finish. It was decorated with macarons, sugar crystals, and swirls of white chocolate. It took me hours to bake and smooth the edges to perfection. I even tied a creamy ribbon around the bottom.
According to my phone, it was past nine p.m. If Professor Maxwell were still at the lab, I could act like a teacher’s pet—a suck-up trying to get on his good side with home-baked goods. If he wasn’t in the lab, I could drop the cake off with an anonymous note. Either way, he would get the birthday cake he was denied as a child.
However, I hadn’t accounted for a third possibility.
I froze as soon as I walked through the lab doors.Professor Maxwell was at his station as expected…and so were all his research assistants.
Shit.
I never expected the rest of his staff to be working after hours. So much for work-life balance.
The brunette, who had stared me down yesterday, was the first to notice me. Her hair was pulled back in a chic bun, and though she was well dressed under her lab coat, the tight black skirt and white blouse were wrinkled from the day’s wear. The exhaustion was probably why she was staring daggers at me.
Miles was the second person to sense my presence. “Rose?” he asked, confused. The fatigue on his face was reflected in his rumpled lab coat, a few stray dirt specks dotting the fabric.
Professor Maxwell, who seemed to have blocked out the world with his concentration, lifted his head from the microscope at the sound of my name. It was so rapid I wondered if he had been waiting for someone to utter it. Our gazes clashed, though he was otherwise unmoved.
My bravado faded at his unreadable expression. Suddenly, I felt incredibly self-conscious and started second-guessing my decision.
What was I thinking?
Even his brother and childhood friends didn’t bother with sentimental gestures because they were terrified of his reaction. Yet here I was, trying to tear down his walls with a birthday cake.
The worst part—it wasn’t his birthday.
“What are you doing here so late at night?” the brunette asked harshly, the corners of her mouth turning downward with deep lines of disapproval.
The other staff—there were at least thirty of them—stared at me expectantly, some open-mouthed and others wide-eyed. My unanticipated arrival had shocked the hell out of them. No one dared to enter Professor Maxwell’s sanctuary, and I had done it twice.
“What’s going on?” one of the research assistants whispered to a colleague.
“Who’s that?”
“One of the students,” someone responded.
There were snarky whispers, too. “Semester has barely started, and female Casanova here is trying to get into Professor Maxwell’s pants. When will they learn?”
I wanted to die of embarrassment. Worst of all, I couldn’t give them an explanation, not with this many people staring at me. The inability to speak at will had become my lifelong companion. I accepted it and adapted accordingly. However, at this moment, frustration filled me as my throat constricted from the unwanted attention. I so badly wanted to give Professor Maxwell something he had been deprived of for his entire childhood. Instead, I had become a vixen with a plan.
