Chapter 1
The lecture hall smelled of chalk dust and polished floors, but all Emilia Carter could notice was him.
Professor Adrian Hale.
Tall. Imposing. Eyes colder than the winter wind rattling the university windows. His reputation had preceded him—ruthless, unyielding, utterly impossible. And now, as he scanned the room, she felt it: his gaze locking onto hers like a blade.
She hated him instantly.
Her first presentation was scheduled in five minutes, and already she knew it would be a disaster—not because she wasn't prepared—but because this man had a way of making even the best students feel like they didn't belong.
"Miss Carter," he said, voice flat, slicing through the chatter of restless students. "I hope you know this is an advanced class. Mediocrity will not be tolerated."
Her cheeks flushed—not from embarrassment, but fury. Who did he think he was? She hated him for assuming, judging, for standing there like some untouchable authority.
She smiled. A tight, defiant smile. She would not crumble. Not today. Not under him.
Stepping up to the podium, notes trembling in her hands, Emilia forced her first words out.
"Today, I will discuss…"
The words caught in her throat. The first slide refused to load. A flicker. A pause. Murmurs from the back.
Professor Hale's eyes narrowed. His lips pressed into a thin line.
"Miss Carter," he interrupted, tone cutting, almost cruel, "is that the best you can do?"
A ripple of laughter snaked through the hall. Her stomach twisted. She hated him more already.
Flipping the slide again, the projector blinked out. Panic surged. Whispers grew louder.
"Perhaps," he said, stepping closer, voice low but sharp, "you'd like to explain it without the slides… if you even understand the material."
Her jaw tightened. Heat surged through her ears. Pure hate. But beneath it—anger, embarrassment… and something she refused to name. Something she would never admit aloud.
Clutching her notes, she drew a shaky breath. She would not let him see her break. Not in front of everyone. Not under him.
The room finally quieted, the last snickers fading. Emilia's hands shook as she stuffed her notes into her bag, glaring at the floor. She hated him. She hated him so much it burned.
"Miss Carter." His voice, calm and measured, cut through the tension. Her heart skipped—not in admiration, but a pulse of something she didn't like… yet.
Reluctantly, she looked up. His eyes weren't just cold; they were sharp, assessing… curious. For a fraction of a second, it felt like he noticed more than just her failure. Like he saw her stubbornness, her defiance… and maybe even admired it.
"Try not to embarrass yourself next time," he said quietly, leaning slightly closer than necessary. No malice—just a calm, measured warning. It made her blood boil—and something else stir.
She wanted to turn away, slam the door but her mind shut, pretend he didn't exist. But she caught herself studying him:
The sharp lines of his jaw.
The faint crease between his brows.
The way his gaze lingered just a heartbeat too long.
She scowled at herself. Hate him. Hate him. Hate him.
Yet, as she left the lecture hall, a tiny, infuriating thought sneaked into the corner of her mind: maybe he wasn't entirely… unbearable.
A dangerous spark.
And Emilia Carter, hating him as she did, didn't know that the semester had just begun—and that every lecture, every glance, every word he said, would push her closer to something she was certain she'd never want.