Page 61 of Nidev and Lyric

“Better yet, how about some of that tea you swear by? My apartment isn’t far from here as you know.”

Lyric’s stomach twisted, waiting for his answer.

“Sure. I’ll drive us.”

Her entire stomach dropped out as they both stood and headed for the door, leaving her to scramble with her things.

At the exit, a hot knife hit her chest when he rested his hand on her lower back, guiding her out as her laughter trailed and Lyric saw red.

She realized neither of them had given her barely a glance, like she wasn’t even an afterthought. She swallowed as she hurried to follow, her heels suddenly feeling like lead.

The short ride to her apartment was crippling. He put the bitch in between them in the backseat and Lyric couldn’t stop measuring how close her knees were to his legs as her silky words flowed on and on.

Nidev’s behavior was one shock after another, leaving her wondering who he was. Why was he acting this way? Was there something she didn’t know about this job that required him to let this woman openly seduce him with her… sickening kindness?

The half mile hell ride to her apartment finally ended. Her apartment that he already knew where it was—an odd fucking thing for her to say, now that she thought about it. Why voice facts they both knew?

Did she somehow know about her relationship with Nidev? Was she jealous?

She sure acted like a woman who had more than a professional relationship with him or at least fantasized about it. Like the rest of the school.

A terrifying thought slammed into her. Had they shared something more than a professional relationship at some point?

The idea added a violent cramp to her already sick stomach.

****

In the woman’s second floor apartment, Lyric kept ten feet between her and the exit while Nidev’s gaze slid over the room, pausing briefly on the plush leather couch, the open door leading to the small kitchen. “Still keeping this place running like a well-oiled machine, I see,” he said, his voice almost approving. “Or have you finally hired someone to keep the chaos under control?”

The woman laughed, rich and throaty. “If you’re asking whether I’ve found some poor soul willing to clean up after me, the answer is still no. I prefer to handle things myself.”

“Perfectionist,” Nidev said, and there was something almost amused in his tone.

Lyric opened her notebook and began underlining random things and rewriting others.

“Says the man who made me rewrite the student accommodation plan three times before it was ‘satisfactory.’”

Lyric’s fingers clenched around the pen, their easy banter and shared history eating a hole through her.

“Well,” Mireille continued from in the kitchen. “You know how it is. Excellence requires dedication. And you always did expect the best from me.”

“I still do.” His words were smooth, even familiar. He’d said them to Lyric many times. Minus the warmth.

“Why don’t we sit?” Mireille gestured toward the dark green couch. “I’ll make your favorite tea.”

Nidev sat on the couch and Lyric perched on the very edge of the chair closer to the door, eyes on her notebook, diligently rewriting her mess.

“I thought you hated the smell of it,” Nidev called.

“I do. But I kept some anyway.” Mireille’s voice was sharp, a challenge wrapped in sweetness.

It was some inside joke. A conversation that had nothing to do with orders or lessons or brutal tests meant to break her down.

“Of course, I doubt you sleep much these days,” Mireille said, entering with a cup and handing it to him. “Would you like some, sweetie?”

Lyric's insides scattered as she cleared her throat with a, “No thank you.”

“Well if you want anything, just ask,” she said, diving right back into Nidev’s air space, leaving no time to thank her.

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