Page 18 of Savage Surrender

This lecture was as dry as the rest of them, but I didn’t yawn this time. All the while I talked, I noticed Irina.

She was upset. I didn’t need any more background or any more time to learn her tells. I knew she was upset.

Glum, looking down, seeming entirely uninterested. She had checked out of anything to do with this class.

If she’s only here to be a spy for Igor, then that would make sense.She wouldn’t put much effort forward if she only had to be on campus to get intel for her father.

I would’ve been convinced that theory had to be true if she didn’t have great grades in the class so far. In the poetry class I had just picked up, she had lower scores, but that didn’t indicate anything. Poetry was… lame.

No matter how many times I tried to call on Irina to get her to answer questions, I couldn’t get a rise out of her. This woman was just a shell now, a numbed, vacant-eyed person who was apathetic to the entire first half of the class. I couldn’t get her to react to my stern instructions or difficult questions. If anyone else in the class commented about it, they’d be correct in saying I was singling her out and picking on her.

What the hell?

I was obsessed with getting a reaction out of her. I wanted to see that defensive, sassy spark that I witnessed when we ran into each other at that party off campus. I wanted to see her pupils dilate with interest when I stepped into her personal space. I wished to hear her hitched breath when I cursed and drank like I was just an ordinary, hard man, not a polished professor with manners and polite actions.

As I neared the halfway point of the lecture, when I would switch over to giving a pop quiz, a thought hit me, and I couldn’t shake it off.

Is she… jealous?I couldn’t help but wonder if she was acting so moody and glum like this because she saw another woman with me.

The second I tried to dismiss that, I had to fight to keep a smile from breaking over my face.

Jealous.

If she could envy Jessica leaning in for a kiss, that was proof that she wanted me herself. If she could stoop to being jealous, that was evidence of her caring. Of her wanting me.

And I liked it.

The pop quizzes didn’t take long, all administered online since everyone had a tablet or laptop with them. Grades came in immediately, scored with the program I used because I sure as hell wasn’t grading shit manually.

Before I could log in to see how Irina scored, I could guess that she’d blown it. She’d answered too quickly, barely seeming to take enough time to read through the questions.

“Ms. Petrov,” I called out as she gathered her bag and coat to leave. A small thread of excitement lit up inside me at calling her by her name.

“Then what should I call you?”

I’d asked her that when she insisted I not use her name at the party. Her claim that it wasn’t a formal situation that would require a formal name didn’t fly with me. When she said that, though, I got hung up on the thought of being in an even more informal setting with her. An indecent one, too.

She stiffened at my calling out her name. Slowly, she faced me, glaring with such a haughty yet defensive glower that I was turned on instantly.

Facing off with a fierce woman was always a pleasure. Because I would always tame them. The ride to getting them to submit was one of my favorite experiences.

She arched one brow, waiting. The fact that she wouldn’t speak but rely on nonverbal communication went to show how aloof she could be.

Be a challenge, sweetheart. See what happens. I dare you.

“Please wait after class to speak with me,” I said. While I made sure to come off as polite, I left no room for her to interpret that as anything but an order.

She dipped her chin slightly, almost in a nod, and that was all the response she’d give me.

The wait for the rest of the students to file out of the room felt like an eternity of anticipation. Every moment that passed felt longer than the ones before. By the time that it took for everyone to leave, I was damn near bursting with desire and adrenaline. The whole while, Irina sat in the front row, one leg crossed over the other, her foot bobbing almost as a fidget of tapping it on the floor. Her arms remained crossed, which only pushed the swells of her breasts up higher, emphasizing them even though she wore a turtleneck sweater and no flesh was bared. Her long, brown hair tumbled over her shoulders as she waited for me to address her. But it was the cool expression of waiting on her face that showed her ire with me.

Her guards remained in the hall. I knew it for a fact because I’d seen them pass by then duck their heads in throughout the class. They could wait.

I doubted I’d have long to speak with her without the Petrov guards getting suspicious, but they didn’t know me. Because I wasn’t often in the field, they wouldn’t know me as Viktor Baranov but as Professor Remi, who would have every right to speak to one of his students after class.

The doors closed after the last person exited, and sure enough, one of the Petrov thugs peered through the glass, seeing Irina seated in the front row and me at the podium. Once the man passed by, shrugging, I approached her.

It was just me and her. At last. We’d shared a private moment of just talking at that party, but it was far too brief of an interaction. This time, I could control what happened.

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