Page 94 of Stalker's Toy

With a sinking feeling, I realize I have no choice but to accept his escort.

The hallways are eerily quiet as we make our way through the building.

Our footsteps echo off the tiled floors.

I clutch my portfolio tightly, as if it might shield me from Hastings' unwanted attention.

"You know, Mia," he says as we near the exit, "I truly admire your dedication to your craft. You have such raw talent."

"Thank you," I mutter, quickening my pace. Just a few more steps to freedom.

But Hastings matches my stride easily. "I'd love to discuss your work further sometime. Maybe dinner, if coffee doesn’t work?"

I bristle at his persistence. "Professor, I've told you before—I'm not interested in socializing outside of class."

He chuckles, as if I've said something amusing. "Come now, there's no need to be coy. I'm simply offering mentorship to a promising student."

"I don't needthatkind of mentorship," I snap, my patience wearing thin.

We emerge into the chilly night air.

The campus is deserted, streetlights casting pools of sickly yellow light.

Hastings steps closer, invading my personal space.

"Mia," he says, his tone condescending. "You're a talented artist, but you're still so young. You need guidance to truly succeed in this field. I could open doors for you..."

His hand brushes my arm and I recoil, anger flaring hot in my chest.

How dare he?

Before I can unleash the scathing retort on the tip of my tongue, a familiar voice cuts through the tension.

"There's my little student."

Relief washes over me as I look up to see Henrik striding toward us, hands in his pockets and that sinful smirk playing on his lips.

He's a vision in a perfectly tailored charcoal suit, radiating power and confidence.

Hastings stiffens, immediately recognizing the newcomer.

"Mr. Lindberg," he says, his tone suddenly deferential. "What an honor to have you here on campus."

I seize the opportunity to putsome distance between myself and Hastings, practically running to Henrik's side.

Without hesitation, Henrik wraps a possessive arm around my waist.

I melt against him, relishing the warmth of his body and the subtle spice of his cologne.

Hastings' eyes dart between us, confusion evident on his face. "And, ah...how do you know Mi— Miss Cohen?"

Henrik's smirk widens. "She's my girlfriend."

I nearly choke on my own saliva, shocked by his boldness.

But a thrill runs through me at his words.

Girlfriend.

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