ZARA’S POV

“That’s our new lecturer. Damn, he’s fine,” Ava whispered in my ear.

I couldn’t bring myself to look away from him, let alone respond. His eyes dropped from my face and settled on my shirt.

Confused, I glanced down—then froze. He was staring at the torn part of my shirt.

Heat crawled up my neck. I shifted on the bench, pressing myself against the desk like I could hide the damage.

Of all people to see me like this, it had to be him.

The same man who’d called me a slut less than twenty-four hours ago.

And now here I was, practically confirming his words.

“Are you good, Zee?” Ava asked.

I nodded stiffly, afraid my mouth would betray me if I spoke.

Heat crawled up my neck. I shifted on the bench, pressing myself against the desk like I could hide the damage.

Of all people to see me like this, it had to be him.

The same man who’d called me a slut less than twenty-four hours ago.

And now here I was, practically confirming his words.

“Are you good, Zee?” Ava asked.

I nodded stiffly, afraid my mouth would betray me if I spoke.

When I finally looked up again, he was no longer standing in front of me. My eyes swept the room until I spotted him standing near the board with a marker as he scribbled something down. When he was done, he stepped aside revealing his cursive handwriting and three bold words staring back at us.

Lucas Blackwood.

Ava’s hand clutched my arm. “Oh my God,” she whispered, her voice vibrating with excitement. “That’s the name of the damn building. His family practically owns this place.”

My chest tightened. Of course. Because my life wasn’t complicated enough.

He capped the marker and turned, his gaze sweeping lazily across the room before settling on the class as a whole. “My name is Lucas Blackwood. I’ll be your new History lecturer.”

I stared down at my notebook like it held the secrets of the universe, determined not to look at him again. The class erupted into polite laughter at something he said, and he moved easily between questions and anecdotes, keeping everyone engaged.

Everyone except me.

I couldn’t focus, not with the memory of last night clawing at me.

I hadn't just slapped my rude neighbor. I’d slapped my lecturer and the owner of the building my scholarship depended on.

My pulse thudded in my ears, blurring away the voices around me. I didn’t even hear when I was being called until Ava shoved my arm hard enough to jolt me.

I blinked at her, but she only nodded toward the front.

And there he was, staring at me over the rim of his glasses, which had slid to the ridge of his nose. “I asked you a question.”

My mouth felt like cotton. “I… didn’t hear you, Mr. Blackwood.”

One dark brow arched. “Then let’s start simpler. What’s your name?”

I straightened in my seat, refusing to let my voice shake. “Zara. Zara Bennett. Bennett as in B-E-N-N-E-T-T.”

He murmured my first name, almost to himself, like he was tasting the sound.

Then he straightened and spoke louder, his tone carrying to the back of the room.

“So, Miss Bennett… not only do you dress to publicly showcase your assets,” his gaze flicked briefly to the cut fabric framing my bra. “And distract the students who are actually here to learn, but you also choose to play deaf by ignoring my question?”

The room erupted in a few low laughs and muffled gasps.

My fingers twitched with the urge to slap him again this time across the other cheek but I forced myself to stay still.

“What was the question?” I asked evenly.

His smile deepened like he’d already won something. “Explain the political impact of the Yalta Conference.”

The answer came off easily from my mouth and I watched in satisfaction as his smile flattened just a little.

“Of course, if that’s wrong, Mr. Blackwood, you can correct me.”

He adjusted his glasses. “It’s… not wrong.”

“Good,” I said, leaning forward slightly. “Then, may I ask a question regarding the same topic?”

The pause that followed was almost imperceptible, but I saw it. The faintest flicker in his eyes before the bell rang, cutting through the moment.

Students scrambled to pack their things. I grabbed my bag and moved toward Ava, trying to swallow the rush of satisfaction.

Maybe I’d gone too far. Maybe baiting him in front of the class wasn’t the smartest thing.

I was almost at the door when his voice stopped me.

“Miss Bennett.”

I turned. His expression was unreadable, his gaze sharp.

“See me in my office. Now.”

No raised voice. No extra words. Not even a flicker of expression to give me the slightest clue what he was thinking or what was waiting for me when I get to this office.

He walked past me toward the hallway without looking back, the faint scent of his cologne trailing behind him like a warning.

Ava caught up, her eyes wide. “If he’s going to grill you over your outfit, then I’m coming too. I’ll explain it to him myself.”

I didn’t answer. My thoughts were already spiraling, chasing every possible thing he could say or do about what had happened… in class and last night. The steady click of his shoes on the polished floor was the only sound ahead of us, a metronome counting down to whatever was coming.

We reached his office door. He pushed it open without a word, the hinges creaking like they knew I didn’t want to be here. Ava started in after me, but he stopped her with nothing more than a glance.

“I said, just Miss Bennett.”

Her eyes darted to mine. I gave her the smallest nod. She backed out. The door shut with a sound that made my stomach drop.

“Take a seat.”

My mouth worked faster than my brain. “I… about last night… I am deeply sorry for…”

“Miss Bennett,” he said again, the faintest edge in his tone, “take a seat.”

I sat, pulse rattling in my ears. He opened the file in front of him without looking up. My name was printed neatly at the top of the first page.

“I’ve been looking into you,” he said, almost conversationally. “Your grades are… impressive. Especially for a final-year student on a full scholarship.”

The way he said scholarship made my stomach clench.

He flipped a page. “Would be a shame if anything… interrupted that.”

He finally looked up, the ghost of a smile at the corner of his mouth. “I’m simply wondering, Miss Bennett… how far you’re willing to go to keep it.”