Page 48 of See Me After Class

"Good," he retorted, snorting to show he approved. "Because I like you and I want you to work with me."

Bingo.

"Thank you, Dr. Thorne," I breathed.

He nodded and initiated the paperwork. We discussed the terms of the lease, and as I left his office, I took back a sense of accomplishment. The space was perfect, a small yet inviting room with a large window overlooking a serene garden.

I drove back to the Institute. Overhead, the sky had begun to clear, patches of blue breaking through the grey. The trees seemed to stand a little taller, their leaves rustling in the gentle breeze. The sun dipped toward the horizon, painting the sky in rose gold. After parking, I stepped out and breathed in the crisp air.

"Hello. Busy day?"

I nearly leaped out of my skin at the deep, resonant baritone of Dr. Magnusson's voice. An idea began forming in the back of my mind.

Dr. Galbraith had told me not to see Leon.

He didn't say shit about staying away from Viktor Magnusson.

18

Viktor

The slight creature in front of me brushed aside a wild lock of raven hair as she looked at me. Why did it matter if her day had been busy? I half-expected her to walk away without answering.

She nodded briefly. "It has been, thanks for asking."

I nodded quickly and continued walking toward the Institute's main door. I had a class to teach, and I needed to be in my office, preparing material for today's presentation.

"Dr. Magnusson?"

Desdemona Davenport ran to catch up with me.

"Yes?" I didn't look at her.

"Are you going to teach a class?"

I nodded.

"Can I attend?"

I couldn't deny the pleasure I felt at hearing the undercurrent of interest in her question. "You can," I replied. "But I've got to go to my office first."

"Okay. Cool."

I hoped that was the end of it, but no. Dessie trailed after me, her heels clicking on the polished stone floor like a metronome keeping time to my annoyance. She spoke softly, her gentle voice a strange reckoning that threatened to chip away at my resolve.

Stop it. Stop thinking with your penis. You can do it. You've done it for about a decade.

We were nearing my office, the sterile white corridor a sea of white coats bustling about. Doctors barked orders, nurses hurried with charts, and junior staff scurried like ants.

"Hey, Magnusson—" Leon came barreling toward us with a swagger that could have rivaled John Wayne, his eyes glued to the phone in his hand.

He looked up, saw Dessie, and blanched. "Okay. Got an emergency I need to get to." Without casting so much as another glance at us, he scurried away.

I frowned, caught off guard at his treatment of Dessie. "That's unexpected."

"Hardly," Dessie mused. "I did turn him down pretty badly."

She turned him down?

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