My Wickedly Charming Professor: Married On Paper, Obsessed In Class

Once I was home, I let the day wash off me under a long shower. Afterward, I pulled on a crisp white shirt that fit snugly across my shoulders and a pair of black jeans.

My thoughts kept drifting back to Navarro. Anticipation stirred in me in a way I did not bother questioning. She was not usually the kind of woman who caught my attention, yet something about her presence lingered, bright and unsettling, refusing to fade.

Down in the garage, I chose the black BMW without hesitation and started the engine.

The drive passed in a blur. My mind replayed fragments of her expression, and I caught myself wondering what she might wear that night.

At the club, the valet was already reaching for my keys the moment I arrived. The line at the entrance stretched endlessly, but I walked past it without slowing. The guards recognized me and waved me through. Inside, the place was packed, and weaving through the crowd took effort before I finally reached the VIP area. John was waiting.

"Henry, it's been far too long," he said, pulling me into a hug. "How's your father?"

"He's fine. I'm here on business."

"I figured as much." John understood that world well. He had once been part of it himself, until marriage gave him an exit most men never got. I had never been that fortunate. "How long are you staying?"

"I'm not sure yet. I'm covering for Thiago."

His face drained of color, which was impressive considering how pale he already was. Years showed in his lined features, his graying hair neatly combed, his shorter frame wrapped in a familiar black suit.

"No. Emergency surgery." I paused before adding, "I took the opportunity to revisit Eric's case."

"Say no more." His voice lowered. "Did you find anything at all?"

"The information leads nowhere. At this point, I would settle for finding his body just to give him a proper burial."

"I'm sorry, Henry."

Before the conversation could sink further into that weight, a waitress appeared beside us and set our drinks down.

I lifted the glass and took a moment to breathe in the sharp scent of the whiskey.

"Henry!" A shrill voice cut through the noise, and I did not need to turn to know exactly who it belonged to.

"Miss—"

"Britney Veg," she remarked brightly before I could finish. She leaned in and planted a kiss on each of my cheeks without warning.

"Hey, Bri," John said, greeting her with a polite nod.

"Hi, John. I had no idea you two knew each other."

"Henry and I have history."

"History?" She dragged the word out, clearly enjoying herself. I bit back a laugh. John was older than me by far, and she knew exactly what she was implying.

"If you'll excuse me."

"Of course." As she walked away, he shot me a sharp look. He had never appreciated jokes about his age, no matter how subtle.

Only a handful of women remained in the VIP area with us. The space itself was lavish and open, lined with deep red and black velvet couches that looked as indulgent as they felt. A pole stood at the center of a small stage, and a few of the girls rotated through performances, drawing attention from anyone nearby.

"I didn't expect to run into you tonight," she said brightly, already reaching for the buttons of my shirt. Her perfume was pleasant enough, but it sparked nothing in me. Not interest. Not desire.

"That makes two of us," I replied, calmly taking her hands away before she could undo anything.

My focus shifted as I stepped closer to the railing, scanning the crowd below in search of Liz.

"Henry, you know I'm very good at keeping business and fun separate." I turned toward her and felt even more certain. She still was not what I wanted.

"Britney, don't misunderstand me, but—" She cut me off by brushing a quick kiss against my lips.

"That was accidental. I'm going to grab us drinks." Without waiting for a response, she disappeared into the crowd.

I set my glass down and leaned forward again, eyes sweeping across the club. The bar was overflowing, the dance floor just as packed, and Liz was nowhere in sight. Then I noticed the redhead from earlier standing beside someone familiar.

She wore a blue dress that hugged her body perfectly, short and tight, with a daring neckline and an open back that dipped to her waist. Heels lifted her posture and emphasized every curve. Just seeing her like that sent a sharp rush through me. For a brief moment, our eyes met across the room.

Then a man stepped into her space. My jaw tightened as he handed her a drink. She emptied the glass in one smooth motion. He leaned in close, murmuring something in her ear.

What the hell was I watching?

She returned with a smile that was far too confident. For a moment, I had nearly forgotten she was even there.

I took a sip and nodded despite myself. At least she knew how to order a decent whiskey.

"I'll be back in a minute," she added, leaning in as if to kiss me. This time, I moved first and sidestepped her attempt.

She laughed it off and drifted out of the VIP section, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

My attention immediately shifted back to the crowd. I searched the club until I found Liz again. She moved like the music belonged to her, loose and unrestrained, every step effortless. The sight stirred something hot and unwelcome in my chest. My mind betrayed me, filling with images I had no business entertaining, especially involving that dress that barely qualified as one.

The fantasy shattered when another man slid into her space. They danced together far too closely. Her body followed his without hesitation, and the intimacy of it made my jaw tighten. Heat rushed through me, sharp and angry. The audacity of it made my fists clench. No one had the right to touch her like that. Not when I was watching.

The second their mouths met, I snapped. I left the VIP area without thinking, forcing my way down the steps and nearly knocking people aside. I never looked away from them. At the bar, I abandoned my glass, grabbed another drink, and shoved through the crowd until I was close enough.

I collided with them on purpose. As she turned toward me, the drink slipped from my hand and spilled across her chest. She sucked in a sharp breath. Only then did I realize I had my eyes shut.

When I opened them, she was staring. Something flickered across her face—too unreadable to name, but sharp enough to make my pulse jump.

I put on a show of concern, guided her toward the bar, and motioned for the bartender to hand me a cloth. With slow, deliberate movements, I began blotting the damp fabric. When the cloth brushed the space between her chest, a sharp surge ran through me. I froze without meaning to and lifted my gaze, studying her reaction and the tension tightening between us.

The moment stretched until she snatched the cloth from my hand herself. Without a word, she turned away and disappeared again, dismissing me as if I were nothing more than a nuisance.

One thing became painfully clear. I needed to lose myself in that woman, completely.

I stayed at the bar and ordered another shot, letting the whiskey burn its way down.

Britney resurfaced soon after and spent the rest of the night circling me, making repeated attempts to steal kisses and push things further. Eventually, she gave up when it became obvious she would get nothing from me. Not tonight.

John joined me later, and we talked long enough for an interesting detail to surface. His son was part of Liz's social circle. For the first time that evening, things seemed to align in my favor. I wanted her badly, and I knew from experience that desire like this never faded until it was satisfied. She would not be any different.

I decided to leave.

Out in the parking lot, Liz stood with her friends, exchanging final hugs before they drove off. She watched their car disappear and then climbed into a sleek white vehicle of her own. She had excellent taste.

Closing the distance between us felt inevitable. I already knew how I would do it.

I approached quietly and noticed her eyes were shut, her head tilted back against the seat. I knocked on the window, making her flinch. When she looked up and saw me, irritation flashed across her face.

Do not look at me like that, Liz. One way or another, you will be mine.

After fumbling through a few weak excuses, I managed to get into her car. The moment I closed the door, her perfume filled the space, soft but unmistakable. I tried making conversation, letting it drift toward flirting, until she calmly mentioned that she was married. The air shifted instantly, and everything stalled.

Married. At 21. And still showing up alone at a nightclub. None of it made sense. The idea refused to sit right with me, which only fed my curiosity. I needed to know who her husband was and why a marriage like that even existed.

She was far too young to be tied down like that. Money crossed my mind. An arrangement, maybe. If that were the case, it would not bother me. I knew exactly what I wanted from her, and I had never been wrong about getting what I set my sights on.

Once I arrived at my condominium, I walked straight toward my mansion.

Every property I owned followed the same pattern. Five bedrooms, three of them suites. Three living rooms, each with its own purpose. One for meals, one for guests, and one purely for leisure. Bathrooms were scattered everywhere, so many that I had lost count. The kitchen was oversized by design. Cooking had always grounded me and reminded me of my mother. The garage felt almost empty now, holding only my BMW.

I sent Petter a message and told him to retrieve my car.

I headed upstairs for a bath, the night still clinging to me. As the water ran, my thoughts circled Liz, already plotting how to draw her in.