Page 21 of A Discovery: Love and Other Things

“I believe the lady told you she wasn’t interested.” Dr. Campbell’s voice matched the strength of his stature. The cords in his arms were visible in the tightly stretched black T-shirt he wore, even though his hands were tucked into the pockets of his dark jeans. His hands must have been clenched to show that kind of definition. His broad shoulders towered over the rest of us at the table. But his eyes were the scariest part of him. Those deep blues raged with a fire that could burn down the entire building.

“Why don’t you save yourself some trouble, old man.” Peroxide Hair threw a wad of cash at Dr. Campbell’s chest. “Go buy yourself a coffee and get lost.” The three goons burst into cackles.

Faster than lightning, Dr. Campbell reached over the table and grabbed the ringleader’s neck with his hands. I jumped back, my chair falling with a clatter behind me.

The other two guys backed away hastily.

His hands must have been squeezing tightly against Peroxide Hair’s airway because all that came out of the asshole was a squeaking wheeze.

I held my breath as Dr. Campbell leaned in, his long torso stretching over the table. “Get. The. Fuck. Out. She’s mine,” he hissed into his victim’s face.

With that, he tossed the asshole to the floor like he was a ball of paper—light and unimportant.

The other two helped their friend to his feet, and they ran out of the shop like a trio of hyenas being chased away by a lion.

They were gone. My whole body relaxed as I breathed out a sigh of relief. So grateful to Dr. Campbell, I approached him. “Thank you so much—”

“Pack your shit up and let’s go,” he growled.

I flinched at his unexpected anger. I had never really heard him swear before, even when he’d berated me at the site. Why was he still angry? The guys were gone, and he’d won!

Before I could ask him what was the matter, he barked at me again. “Now!”

With clumsy hands, I tucked my laptop into my bag. He grabbed my elbow and guided me to the front door, but not before I stuck my tongue out at the old man still absorbed in his book and the shop owner who had just stood behind the counter the whole time.Waste-of-space men!

When we reached outside, Dr. Campbell’s hand was still on me, and his pace was too fast for me to keep up. “You can let go of me now. I’m totally fine.”

“Keep walking,” he ordered.

My feet stumbled as I tried to stop moving. “I can walk myself home.” I pulled away from his grasp.

He turned to look at me, those deep blues still burning bright. “They could still be lurking around here. It’s not safe for you to walk home alone.”

I hadn’t thought about that. I’d just assumed that the goons would have run away by now, since Dr. Campbell had served their asses to them. If I ran into them alone, there would be no hope of me escaping with how pissed they’d be.

So, I obeyed and followed him.

After about two minutes of hardcore power walking, I broke the silence. “Where are we going?”

“My place,” he answered curtly while focusing on the street ahead.

“But why?” I protested. “My hostel is only five minutes away from here.” He could just walk me home if he was that concerned about those guys following me.

But he didn’t relent. “As is my home.”

This was highly inappropriate and a little dramatic, if you asked me, but with the mood he was in, I wasn’t willing to press my luck. Next thing you know, he’d go allMucha Luchaon me like he had with Peroxide Hair, and I quite liked my neck.

So, I followed in his shadow, which was just as dark as his mood.

Chapter 11

The hostel stay was free during the course of the internship, but the average traveler would expect to pay around fifteen American dollars per night. According to some fast math in my head and what limited knowledge I had about Egyptian real estate, I’d have said that Dr. Campbell’s hotel suite (nay, “penthouse”) must have cost in the neighborhood of fifty thousand dollars per month to rent. (I could have been off, so feel free to add another ten thousand to that figure for good measure.)

Yes. It was thatgrand. . .lavish. . . opulent. Finding the right word to describe the museum-sized living space I stood in the center of at that very moment wasn’t easy.

Black and gray furniture. Hanging glass orbs. Dark stone flooring. Modern staircase with gunmetal railings. Panoramic windows with the most breathtaking view of the Nile. This place was no ordinary penthouse, this was the ultimate man-palace.

I stood gaping at my surroundings, feeling severely underdressed in my T-shirt and jeans as Dr. Campbell was busy in the kitchen grabbing me the glass of water I had requested. The man had all but made me jog in the blazing heat to keep up with him, so the least he could do was get me a cold glass of water as compensation if he wasn’t going to give me a good explanation as to why I had to hide out at his place instead of my own.

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