Total pages in book: 247
Estimated words: 234281 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1171(@200wpm)___ 937(@250wpm)___ 781(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 234281 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1171(@200wpm)___ 937(@250wpm)___ 781(@300wpm)
The TA left as soon as he had their worksheets distributed, and for several moments all Diana could do was stare at the piece of paper in her hand.
Back when she still lived under her mother's thumb, she neither thought of Mondays as manic nor mundane. Instead, they were Morbid Mondays to her, with Diana forced to attend board meetings and pretend she was okay with Esther's illegal maneuverings. Mondays were also for social dinners and playing nice with whichever latest bachelor Esther believed to be rich, foolish, and docile enough to pass as her future son-in-law.
Since last Monday though, she had started thinking of the first day of the week as magical.
Magical Mondays.
That was how she had thought of it, rather whimsically she knew, and it was all because Monday meant being able to see him. Hear him speak. It meant being able to bask in his presence.
But now this.
Diana: The TA just told us you called in sick. :( Are you okay?
Matthijs: Better now, because I know you're worried about me.
It was so rare to catch the professor in the mood to play, and her heart skipped a beat despite knowing this couldn't mean anything.
Diana: I'm okay with foregoing tomorrow's consultation so you can rest some more.
Matthijs: Don't you know by now, my darling? The sight of you is a better cure than a gallon of antibiotics. And the feel of you...makes me fucking immortal, baby.
Him
THE PROFESSOR'S ALARM woke him at half past four the next day.
While a dull, miniscule throbbing still nagged at his temple, his body no longer felt sluggish, and he was even able to leave the bed without tripping over his own feet.
Twenty hours ago, it hadn't been the case at all, with the flu causing the professor to all but crawl just to make it to the en-suite.
Then again, none of it should've happened if he hadn't been so damn careless in the first place.
The last time he had done something as stupid as this, everything had still been new and unfamiliar, his bitterness still raw enough to make him rebel against the drastic changes his life had to accommodate.
But he had no such excuse now.
No damn excuse except for the fact that his thoughts had been so damn entangled because of her and...
Never again, he told himself forcefully. Never again would he let her affect him this way. Never again would he let her affect him to the point of making him do things completely out of character and say things he had no right to say.
Never again, he repeated to himself as he drank his lemon-infused water and read his messages—-
WHAT THE FUCK?
Shock had him sputtering over his glass, but words on the message thread between him and Diana didn't even waver. Words that he seemed to have fucking typed while he had been in the throes of fever and delirium. Words that he could no longer take back—-
His doorbell buzzed.
Because she was already here, outside his damn house.
The professor moved in record speed, taking a shower while issuing orders to his staff on loudspeaker. But despite his best efforts at multitasking, he still ended up making her wait for a good ten minutes before he was sufficiently presentable.
His housekeeper had already escorted Diana into his living room, allowing her to see him as he came out of the hallway. She stood up right away, and a part of him did the same thing, standing in immediate attention the moment she came into view.
Shit.
He was in trouble.
No, make that she was trouble.
Big fucking trouble, the kind that came in petite, slender packages but packed a fucking wallop. The kind that came with eat-you, eat-me eyes that had the power to enslave bastards like him. And the most damn vexing thing of all, she was the kind of trouble that noticed right away the attention-seeking banana in his fucking pocket.
"G-Good morning, Professor." Her voice was faint.
"Good morning." His voice, on the other hand, was raspy, with the professor unable to help but notice how her gaze kept darting to the rigid outline his erection had made against his trousers.
"I, um, brought something for you." If he wasn't in so much pain, he might've been amused at the way she had to drag her eyes off his arousal and reach for something—-
The professor blinked.
"I hope you're not allergic," she said shyly.
"No." The professor accepted the bouquet of flowers. "I'm, err, not." He gazed down at the fresh bunch of wild roses he had in his hands rather blankly, thinking he had never had someone gift him with flowers—-
Focus, you idiot.
He recalled himself with an effort, saying stiffly, "Thank you for this." He glanced at where his housekeeper stood in attentive silence, and at the professor's nod, Noel took the flowers from his hand, saying, "I'll take care of this, sir."