Chapter 6

The heaviness constantly living in my chest slightly lessens as I walk across Hannigan lawn before the next class, careful to avoid the fresh puddles accumulated overnight from the rain. Buildings and schools in LA are not designed with good drainage systems in the land of the drought.

The infamous California sunshine makes a reappearance, as though yesterday's storm was a hallucination. Students greet me as I pass by, and I respond with a few curt nods.

With each step taking me deeper into the university, and my lungs raking in the lingering smell of rain in the air, I feel the stress slowly escaping from my body. My mind fights the daily battle to compartmentalize, to shove my unwanted thoughts regarding my role in the family business into the back of my mind.

When I stood in the rain after the first class, feeling the wetness soaking through my clothes, spreading over my skin, and witnessing the light show in the murderous skies, I felt free. In another life, I would be doing this for the rest of my life—teaching and watching those young eyes light up in the room. In that moment, I felt a tiny sliver of happiness, like my heart was waking up after a long slumber.

I felt cleansed in the rain. I felt minuscule. Insignificant. Like the world wasn't depending on me, my family wasn't relying on me, and the rules of the family trust binding every Anderson, whether by birth or by marriage, to the family business weren't there.

Under the judgment of the brilliant skies, I didn't have to contend with the guilt over the repercussions if I branched out on my own, how my entire family would lose our company and wealth to third parties under the damn irrevocable, perpetual trust set up by our forefathers.

In the pouring rain, Ryland, both the man and the professor, was enough, and I didn't need to be Ryland Anderson, the COO, the public face of the family, the one taking on those duties because Maxwell preferred the shadows and because I was the glue that held everyone together.

Given everything he had done for me, and the twist of fate that allowed me a freedom he could never experience for himself—simply because I happened to be seven minutes younger than him, thus escaping the constraints of the curse—how could I complain? What right did I have to feel suffocated by life when he was the one to get the short end of the stick?

But in the rain, in the eye of the storm, with nature howling around me, its power unyielding, terrifying, yet breathtaking, I felt entitled to my thoughts and emotions. I could scream and yell my frustrations into the void, and no one would hear a thing.

No one would know my selfish resentment.

Except her.

The young woman with soulful eyes.

Millie Callahan.

She saw me from the windows. When my eyes caught her looking at me, my body lost its ability to move. It was a lightning strike, singeing my insides, shocking my senses back to life. Her piercing gaze sliced through my carefully crafted armor. I couldn't explain it. I just knew she saw me somehow…the real me behind the suits. The burst of emotions—too many to name—left me reeling, and as I forced myself to walk away from her, I settled on the one I recognized the most.

Anger.

Furious at myself for responding so inappropriately to my student, mad at her for being temptation embodied.

It made no sense. It was impossible and ridiculous.

I quickly shove the thoughts aside.

Releasing a deep exhale, I see the five-story stucco building of Kepper Hall in front of me. A heat simmers in my veins as I anticipate the first debate in class and hear the students' arguments.

Ping.

I pause on the front steps, taking out my phone and opening the new incoming email.

Subject: Important Reminder: University Policy on Faculty-Student Relationships

Dear Faculty and Staff,

As a new academic year begins, we wish to remind you of our university's policies regarding faculty-student relationships within our community. It is critical to uphold the highest standards of professionalism and ethics in our everyday interactions.

1. Faculty-student relationships: All romantic or sexual relationships between faculty members and students are strictly prohibited.

2. Consequences of non-compliance: Failure to adhere to these policies will result in investigation and disciplinary action, which may result in termination of employment.

We trust you will continue to contribute to our university's reputation for excellence by upholding these standards.

Sincerely,

University of Los Angeles Human Resources Department

This must be related to a sordid scandal between a TA and her much older, married professor during the summer session that rankled the academic community. Why would anyone risk their reputation for a quick lay is beyond me.

Unbidden, an image of Millieappears in my mind again.

Large, doe-like blue eyes, the color of the brightest sapphires, framed by the lushest lashes, long espresso hair curling around the heavy swells of her chest, partially hiding the protruding nipples plastered against her thin, wet shirt, which left little to the imagination. The plump, pillowy lips parted on a gasp when she saw me approach her after she barreled into class like an act of God, the beautiful meadowlark lying at the foot of a beast.

A water nymph. Seductive yet innocent at the same time.

Heat rushes to my groin as my senses relive the sensations of seeing Millie Callahan at my feet on Tuesday. The woman whose penetrative gaze sees too much, whose aura is innately seductive at the same time.

I remember my sharp anger and frustration at the latecomer crashing into our class halting abruptly when my eyes took in the vixen bringing the elements indoors. My lungs froze mid-inhale, my eyes unable to drag themselves away from her.

The brief minutes between us seemed heavy, ripe with tension, the thumping in my heart intensifying, my skin sizzling when I grabbed her wrist when she looked like she was about to faint after standing up. The bolt of anger that seared me when I saw the jock flashing a smile at her as he handed her the laptop lying at his feet.

I clench my fists at the barrage of unwanted sensations churning inside me and lock my jaw.

Fucking insane. Completely inappropriate.

She's over fifteen-years younger than you.

She's forbidden.

She's your fucking student.

It was an off day, that's all. Effects of the electrical storm.

"How many of you have worked as a delivery driver? InstaEats? Delivery Dash?" I unbutton my suit jacket and lay it over the back of the wooden chair by the desk in front of the classroom.

The class is silent as I prowl back and forth, waiting for a brave soul to answer. I know my reputation—hard-ass, cold, stickler for rules. The real world is much harsher. They might as well get used to it now.

"Are you all deaf this morning? Too hungover from partying?"

I pause my pacing, my eyes skimming over the sea of orange and white—there's a school rally today, but the party began yesterday, and the collective hangover of the students is starting to royally piss me off. They're here to learn, to understand their roles and responsibilities in society, not to cruise through education and expect the world to be handed to them later.

A few hands raise in the air. Finally.

I try not to look at her. The woman who saw through me in the unrelenting storm.

She's a girl, barely a woman. Get your fucking shit together.

She's sitting in the second row today, her posture ramrod straight, eyes bright, like she's excited to be in class, like she's so fucking happy to be here, to listen to me. Her hair, no longer the wet mess from Tuesday, is a tapestry of browns and caramels, the silky strands long, shiny, and thick. My groin twitches as I admire those luscious locks.

Perfect for grabbing onto after I chase her in the woods, feeling the wind on my face, the exhilaration in my veins. Then I'd wind them around my hand and tug, jolting her to a stop. I'd put them against my nose and take a whiff because I'd be craving a hit of her sweetness. Then I'd haul her toward me—

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

I flinch, my eyes darting away at the nonsensical, completely inappropriate, intrusive thoughts. I need to get my ass back to The Orchid and book a scene. I've been without sex for too long and it's messing with my brain.

I point to a redhead with her hand raised in the front row. "You. What's your name?"

"Ashley," she replies, her voice raspy as she bites her bottom lip in a motion I'm sure will bring many boys to heel. It just fucking annoys me.

"Tell me, is your pay mostly from your wages or your tips from customers?"

"The tips, of course. I do pretty well for myself once the guys see me when I drop off their takeout." She gives me a wink and thrusts out her ample chest.

I pinch the bridge of my nose and fight the urge to roll my eyes. I love teaching, but this incessant fawning rankles. I can already imagine the coy glances and sly invitations these girls will give me after they get their exam results to see if I can give them "extra credit" to help them pass the class.

Cheaters thinking they can get ahead and not put in the work beforehand.

Cheaters with ulterior motives.

Sydney's face floats in front of my mind and I grit my teeth, shoving the image away. "Do you get medical benefits from your company?"

"No. Not that I need them. I'm very healthy." Ashley lets out a breathy laugh, her voice heavy with innuendo. "Professor, I'm strong…and healthy. Ready for anything, really."

The frat bro next to her, someone who resembles an extra for lifeguard movies, shifts in his seat, his eyes raking over her body with interest. I bite back a sigh. This is going nowhere.

"Do you know why you don't get benefits from your company?"

I try again, stuffing my hands in my pockets. Anything to keep from reaching out and shaking her and any other student who is treating this class like a date with a billionaire instead of taking it seriously.

Ashley shrugs, staring at me with those annoying stars in her eyes. I pinch my nose again and raise my voice, the impatience seeping out in spades. "Does anyone have anything meaningful—"

"It's because they classify us as contractors instead of employees," a sweet voice replies from my left.

The voice I've heard only once before, but I know I'll recognize anywhere.

My chest tightens, and the pounding pulse quickens in my ears as I turn toward Millie. She still has her hand raised as if she's asking for permission to speak, but her sapphire eyes glint with knowledge, with eagerness. She's not asking for permission. She's making her presence known.

My heart skips a beat. Will she be different from the others? Or will she be a disappointment?

I clear my throat. "And why do you think they do that?"

"Minimize costs and maximize profits for them, of course."

I nod. "If you're an investor of InstaEats and you infused capital into their fledgling company five years ago, and now they are rewarding you with increased dividends because they were careful with their cost management, that's good, right? The right thing a company should do for its stakeholders."

"But not the right thing for its workers though."

She leans forward on her desk, her hands clasped in front of her, deepening the shadow of her cleavage showing above the round neckline of her unassuming red T-shirt. Renewed heat circulates in my body and I force myself to drag my eyes back to her sapphire gaze again.

"Precisely," I begin, my voice sounding hoarse to my ears. "This is just one example of business ethics. What's ethical to one group of people may not be the correct thing to do for another group, even in the same situation, like in this case, investors versus workers. Should the company give a livable wage and correctly classify workers who have accumulated a certain number of work hours as employees, thus giving them full benefits?"

I pause, taking in the furrowed brows of the students. "But if they do that, they'll decrease their bottom line to their shareholders. Or should the company maximize profits at a cost to the workers, who now have to sustain on something as unpredictable as tips in a turbulent economy while finding other ways to get medical benefits, if they can even afford it?"

"There's also one more group of people affected in your situation."

I cock my brow. "How so?"

She swipes her tongue on that distracting plump bottom lip of hers, the innocent motion much more captivating than what Ashley did moments ago. The energy radiating from her is so effervescent, it's the bright beacon of a lighthouse shining through the torrents of rain in a stormy sea.

Millie replies, "The customers are impacted as well. The ethics of the situation aren't black and white. When you presented the case as you did right now, it seemed like the company was unethical because they took from the wellbeing of the workers to pad the pockets of their investors."

Her tentative voice becomes stronger and more confident. "But that's not completely true. If the company treats these workers as employees with additional benefits and a higher wage, despite their competitors not doing the same, don't they still have a fiduciary duty to their investors? What about their corporate employees with pension plans that'll be worth nothing if the company goes under or if their stock tanks?"

My breathing quickens and before I know it, I find myself standing in front of her, my lips threatening to quirk into a smile.

"What does this have anything to do with the customers?" My voice is deceptively quiet, but every cell in my body is pulsing with energy, every nerve ending sizzling with anticipation.

Millie's eyes widen and she swallows, her delicate throat rippling. "To do the right thing for their investors, the company will want to pass the higher costs to third parties, in this case, the restaurants or the customers in question. But is that ethical? To have the mom-and-pop shops and us customers pay for a broken system? Isn't this a lost cause? Everyone loses."

She stares at me, her plush lips parted, like she's waiting for my approval, for my praise.

Fuck. She'll look so good on the ground beneath me.

A bolt of heat slices through my body and I stagger back half a step, lust warring with the curl of satisfaction at her thoughtful answer and provoking questions.

Shit.

My voice is rough when I reply, "Exactly. You're exactly right. This is why having a solid understanding of business ethics is important before you step into the cutthroat world out there. Because once you're swimming in the thick of it, it's hard to keep your eyes on the shore. It's difficult to know if you're paddling toward land or toward your demise."

A murmur ripples through the class as other students shoot their hands into the air, clearly affected by Millie's passionate analysis and wanting to share their thoughts on this moral quandary. I tear my gaze away from her and step away, resisting the impulse to look back.

But I feel the heat of her gaze boring into me. A sensation so visceral it's almost physical, and I crack the stiff joints in my neck, my hands clenching in my trouser pockets.

"Under the utilitarianism theory, what should InstaEats do in this case?" I turn back to the rest of the class and the thumping in my heart intensifies.

More. More. More. It clamors for more.