Emboldened, I lift my chin and stare right back at him, ignoring the curious glances from students. He glides his tongue over his bottom lip before he breaks eye contact, shifting his attention to his audience. In an effort to resume his lecture, he falters and stumbles over his words. Then gives a self-deprecating laugh.
Smiles.
That smile illuminates his face, and something inside me wakes.
“Damn, where was I?” Orion says, a slow smirk spreading across his full lips, and a blush burns through my skin. “Gravitational waves. The violent nature of space when extreme forces are at play. It can be…intense.” His arresting gaze tracks back to me, offering another dizzying smile. “Fuck,” he mutters, driving a hand through his hair. “I apologize for getting off track.”
The class laughs easily in response. But I know this man never apologizes. For anything.
Being the woman who makes him lose his place during a lecture feels empowering—and seduction is nothing if not a game of power.
Dr. Orion Night may be a luminary in the field of astrophysics, but this is my domain. Strategic dark psychology and perfectly timed moves.
His sphere revolves around a branch of space science that seeks to understand the universe, exploring the life and death of stars, planets, and galaxies.
He’s the brilliance behind Stonehurst Observatory’s exemplary astronomy program, and the president of the university desires to keep their brightest star shining in order to continue to pull funding.
He’s also psychologically unbalanced.
A liability the university has taken great care to keep under wraps, requesting in-house, NDA-contracted psychiatric measures to evaluate the level of risk to the university.
As fate would have it—with a little help—Dr. Collins Holbrook has been employed for just this purpose.
When the lecture lets out, I wait patiently for the students to clear the room. As I descend the steps, it’s the moment of truth. Whether I can commit. I’ve never gone undercover before, and I fear he’s going to see right through me, like peering through one of his lenses into space.
My background has been scrubbed by the most advanced agency software tools. A search of my name will produce a carefully curated identity.
Orion removes his glasses and places them in his vest pocket before he props his forearms on the lectern, casually watching me approach with a mix of caution and curiosity, as though he holds all the secrets of the universe behind his masked expression.
And he does. This man holds all the secrets.
I will my hand to loosen its grip on the handle of my briefcase as I stop a few paces away from the lectern. Before I’m able to introduce myself, the door to my right opens, and Dr. Banner enters.
“Ah, good. You’ve already met,” he declares.
“Not properly,” Orion says, his rich tone curling around each syllable as his gaze drags down the length of my body in obvious appraisal.
Heat flushes my face, and I school my features, trying to discern what reaction will most entice him. Innocent blush? Confident appreciation? Coolly offended?
“Well then, allow me the privilege.” Dr. Banner greets me with a chaste smile, but I detect the wariness behind his bravado. Our conversation from yesterday still weighs heavily on him, his fear of this situation going badly. “Dr. Night, may I present Dr. Collins Holbrook. She’s taking over the counseling services for staff.”
I extend my hand toward him. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Dr. Night.”
He hesitates, something akin to betrayal flickering across his face. He remains rooted to the lectern, his gloved fingers tapping the edge, my hand extended awkwardly between us.
My gaze bounces between the two men, and Dr. Banner clears his throat, his discomfort mounting the longer the seconds stretch.
Orion halts tapping, turns his attention to Banner. “I thought we agreed I’d no longer participate in staff counseling.”
I slowly lower my hand. Banner shifts his feet. “Unfortunately, for the case to be officially resolved, HR and legal have mandated conflict resolution through mandatory counseling,” Banner says, his tone apologetic yet firm. “My hands are tied, Rye.”
A shadow falls across Orion’s features. “And Prescott.”
Banner straightens his posture. “Will be required to do the same to appease the board.”
The tension around Orion’s eyes softens when his gaze falls on me. Then that brilliant, charismatic smile unfurls. “And you’d be the therapist,” he states.
I lift my chin, wondering whether this defines us as friends, rivals, or conspirators. “I’m here to offer my services in any way you need, Dr. Night.”
