CHAPTER 71
**ZION**
Walking into Business and Law class, I scan the room, searching for any familiar faces.
I catch sight of a few girls who seem vaguely familiar—probably because I’ve fucked them before. They’re batting their eyelashes and throwing me coy looks. I offer a smile, but it's more reflexive than genuine.
Been there, done that.
Not in the mood for a repeat.
With a grumble, I run a hand through my hair and make my way to the back of the room, hoping the attention-seekers don’t follow. The last thing I need is their giggling distracting me during what’s already shaping up to be a painfully dull class.
As I settle into my seat, I catch a few girls in the class turning around to give me those flirty, inviting smiles. A couple even waves, clearly hoping for some attention. I flash them a quick smirk, more out of habit than anything else. Normally, I'd be all over this, enjoying the way they’re practically begging for it. On any other day, I might’ve skipped class altogether, taken one of them by the hand, and found a secluded spot to have some fun—no strings attached, just the way I like it.
But today’s different.
My thoughts are completely consumed by Winter. The way her eyes widened in fear when I "accidentally" swerved my car toward her earlier this morning—it was all on purpose, just to mess with her. I couldn't help but enjoy her reaction, even though Ronald gave me an ear full right after. He’s always got something to say, always trying to be the voice of reason.
So, no, the usual attention from these girls isn’t cutting it today. Not when Winter’s still lingering in my thoughts, and I can’t shake the satisfaction of getting under her skin.
As the minutes tick by, the room fills up with more students. Before I knew it, the only seat left was the one next to me. I brace myself, half-expecting one of those girls to come flouncing over. But when the professor finally begins the lecture, I relax slightly, thankful that the seat remains empty. I grab my notebook and a pen, preparing for ninety minutes of
mind-numbing statistics.
“Everyone, open your books to chapter two. We’ll start by reviewing—” Professor Woods's voice is abruptly cut off by the creak of the door swinging open.
Instantly, all heads turn, mine included, to see who’s decided to stroll in late.
“I apologize for being late, Sir. I'm Winter. I had trouble finding the classroom,” Winter’s voice breaks the silence as she enters, with Claire following closely behind.
Even from across the room, I can feel it—that electric pull she has on me. It’s magnetic and dangerous. Being near her is like playing with fire.
I can still remember the fear in her eyes from last night when I cornered her in her room. Part of me wanted her to run home, to disappear. But a darker, much larger part of me hoped she would stick around so I could finish what I started.
Professor Woods raises an unimpressed eyebrow, his gaze flicking between Winter and Claire with obvious scepticism.
"Seriously? You got lost but somehow found your way to Claire, the one who knows this place like the back of her hand. What’s the matter, Ms. Summers, sudden case of selective amnesia?"
Claire opens her mouth to explain, “Actually, Sir—” but she’s abruptly cut off by the professor's sharp tone.
“Spare me the details, Ms. Summers. I’m not interested in excuses. Since it’s your first day Winter, I’ll let this slide, but don’t expect the same leniency next time,” he warns, his voice cold and stern, leaving no room for further argument.
Winter nods, clearly flustered, her eyes darting around the room as she searches for a place to sit. When her gaze finally lands on me.
Her throat bobs as she swallows hard, and I can’t help but smirk, amused by the unease I stir in her. Claire gives her a nudge, but Winter hesitates for just a beat too long before heading toward the empty seat beside me.
She’s right to be afraid.
With a barely concealed grin, I watch as she walks slowly towards me, her posture tense, like she’s bracing for something. Maybe she is. Either way, it’s going to be interesting having her this close, especially knowing what I may do to her.
Two crimson splotches blossom on Winter's cheeks as she locks eyes with me. For a split second, I wonder if she’s blushing from embarrassment or if she’s just now realizing she has no choice but to sit next to me.
Is she nervous?
Afraid?
I half expect her to turn tail and flee the class, but she surprises me. Instead of retreating, she squares her shoulders, lifts her chin, and starts walking toward the back with a more determined stride, her expression shifting into a carefully constructed mask of indifference.
So, that’s how she wants to play it? Pretend like she’s not rattled, like she’s in control. I can’t help the grin that spreads across my face.
As she gets closer, I notice the tension in her posture and the slight clenching of her jaw. She’s trying so hard to appear unfazed, but I can see through it. I can see the cracks. The way her fingers grip the strap of her bag a little too tightly, the way her eyes flicker briefly toward the door as if weighing her options. But instead of bolting, she slides into the seat beside me with a stiff elegance, as though she’s daring me to say something, to acknowledge her.
I lean back in my chair, letting the silence between us stretch, savouring the moment. There’s a thrill in this, a dark excitement that coils in my chest. She might think she’s safe, that she can play it cool, but we both know the truth. She’s walking into the lion’s den, and there’s no escape once she’s inside.
Without glancing in my direction, she takes a textbook from her oversized bag and flips it open. The air around us thickens, the seconds dragging by as the temperature in the room seems to climb.
Is it just me, or is it suddenly suffocating in here? Her presence alone is enough to make my skin prickle, and we aren’t even touching. The faint scent of jasmine and vanilla drifts from her, sweet and subtle, nothing like the overpowering designer perfumes the other girls wear.
No, she smells different.
Pure. Innocent.
But I know she's neither of them.
Yet it’s driving me insane.
My jaw clenches tighter with each passing moment as I force a breath into my lungs.
Why her?
Why does it have to be her?
The one person I should despise with every fibre of my being. The person who ruined everything. My fingers curl around my pen, the plastic creaking under the pressure. I hate how much I want her, how my body betrays me whenever she’s near. The girl is a liar—a deceitful, destructive liar who tore my family apart with her lies. Yet, despite the rage boiling in my veins, the need she ignites in me is undeniable.
It disgusts me.
Professor Woods’s voice fades into the background, his words barely registering as I sit there, seething in silence. All I can focus on is the war raging inside me, a toxic blend of desire and fury. I glance sideways, just in time to catch her shifting in her seat, her posture stiff, maybe as tense as I am. Does she feel it too, this unbearable tension between us?
My arousal pulses painfully, a reminder of how twisted this situation is. Hatred and lust are tangled together in a knot I can’t seem to untie. The longer I sit here, the harder it gets to breathe, to think. She’s close enough to touch, yet she’s a world away, lost in her textbook while I’m drowning in my own bitterness.
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