Page 85

“She doesn't want anything to do with you.”

Quentin clenched his hands into fists again, this time more violently. His left eyebrow twitched.

“You're lying!” he blurted out, and I flinched. “Did you talk her into that?!”

Immediately, he stepped toward me, and I stumbled backward, bumping into the thick glass wall behind me, which didn’t stop him from getting closer.

“Are you trying to control my…” He paused, narrowing his eyes further. “Are you trying to control me by interfering in my personal life?!”

He stopped half a meter in front of me.

I wanted to hate him, to fear him, but all I could do as the masculine-tinged citrus scent flooded my nostrils was to take a shallow breath and fight the urge to let my knees give way.

He stood in front of me. So close that I had to look up at him.

“Something about this story is fishy, and I'm going to find out what it is,” he murmured darkly. “And if I find out that you're forcing her…” He stepped closer, raised his finger, and drilled his eyes into mine. “…that you're doing anything to her that she doesn't want…” His voice grew quieter, more threatening. “I swear to God, Julie, I'll throw all my principles overboard and get you out of the way. Slowly and painfully.”

I held my breath, even though everything in me wanted to gasp for air.

Had he just defended me from myself without knowing it?

Shock, despair, and a disturbingly pleasant warmth swirled through my body.

What if J did mean something to him? What if Quentin wasn't who I thought he was?

It dawned on me at that very moment that the truth didn't matter and that I was risking putting myself and the baby in another uncontrollable situation if I didn't silence these feelings inside me right now.

I straightened my shoulders and somehow managed to scrape together the last pitiful bit of self-confidence I had and took a step toward him, which was unexpected for both of us.

“Are you threatening me, Professor?”

I kept my tone firm, though low.

For a moment, he stared at me in astonishment before a shadow flitted across his face.

“Don’t call me that.”

His voice was deep and menacing, sounding tense.

Another warning.

“So I'm not your student?” I continued persistently, imitating his gaze.

This seemed to provoke him even more.

“You are the spawn of my worst nightmare,” he hissed. “And I don't know if this alliance was a mistake.”

He was angry.

Amidst the chaos of my emotions, I thought I detected a sense of euphoria.

I wanted to turn away with an indifferent expression, but something warm on my wrist stopped me.

It was rough, yet it lay softly and gently on my scars.

Startled, I looked down at the defined male hand with its prominent veins running along it, that had slipped a little into my sleeve and was holding me.

“Just tell me she's okay.”