Truly, Madly, Deeply Read online

  Unlike before, students on their second round of submissions were given a tougher assignment by the professor. Aside from having to come up front and present their idea to the class, they were also required to submit the first three chapters of their proposal.

  The professor had always thought this a fair price to pay for having another shot at his class.

  Or at least he used to until now, and he had to bear the sight of Diana coming to stand next to his desk, knowing that he'd only have himself to blame if she ended up suffering any kind of embarrassment.

  He saw her take a deep breath and felt like doing the same.

  Goddammit, maybe he should make up some excuse---

  "I was waiting at the bus stop yesterday when I overheard two women talking their everyday lives, and from what I could glean from their stories, they were overworked and underpaid as well as being constantly subjected to various types of workplace abuse and harassment.

  "One of them had a bedridden mother to support while another was a widow with two children. To say that they had a hard life would be an understatement. To say that they had every right and reason to feel depressed could even be considered a fact. But the thing is, they were not depressed and hadn't even seriously thought of committing suicide to end their torment."

  By this time, practically the entire class was spellbound, and so was the professor, who had long realized that he hadn't anything to worry about. By now, it was so obvious to see that she had changed, with the way she was able to meet everyone's gazes with an earnest smile backed by purposeful determination.

  A woman with a purpose, the professor thought, and soon it became clear what that purpose was.

  "I had the chance to chat with them over dinner, and I was happy when they invited some of their friends over. We spoke for hours, and the whole time, I kept waiting for one of them to say they were sad or tired - that they were feeling so down they just wanted to end it all. But none of them did. All they spoke of was how they had to keep living no matter what - and that was when I realized what made them different. They had people to live for, people whom they were certain would not survive if they were to die, and---"

  She suddenly stopped speaking, doe eyes blinking rapidly, and his fist involuntarily clenched when he realized she was fighting back tears. He turned to his class and saw that it was the same for them, too.

  "One of them s-said...if she killed herself, then she might as well have killed her own m-mother, too." Diana paused to swallow hard. "I know what I'm about to propose might not...might be too novel if there's such a thing, but what if - what if we were to give them something or someone to live for, something or someone that they would know with absolute certainty wouldn't survive without them - might that not be enough---" Diana's voice caught, and this time she had no choice but to wipe the tears that had tracked down her cheeks. "Might it not be enough to keep them from committing suicide?"

  It was a question no one in the room had the answer to.

  But it didn't matter at this point.

  Because by this time, it was more than enough that she was asking the right question, more than enough that she wasn't asking it just to score points. She was asking the question because she wanted to save lives, she was asking this one question because it was her purpose - and everyone saw this.

  One by one they came to their feet, their applause growing thunderous as some of them sniffed while others sobbed outright. The professor had never seen such a thing happen in his class before, and when he turned to meet her dark shining eyes---

  Fuck.

  Because in her gaze he saw...

  Fuck, fuck, fuck.

  He saw...

  His dreams.

  His future.

  His purpose.

  And he was so goddamn fucked.

  Her

  Diana couldn't stop thinking about the professor's cock.

  And it was all his fault, too, she thought helplessly.

  Second-chance presentations were long over, but since returning to her seat, she kept catching the professor looking at her, so often she became giddily convinced he wanted her to know he had his eye on her.

  It also helped that he had such an amazing and subtle way of doing it no other student seemed to notice. It was just her, only her that the leonine glitter of lust in his eyes focused on. Just her.

  How could any girl not think about his cock when she had the professor eye-fucking her like that?

  She didn't even have to close her eyes. It was so horrifyingly, shamefully easy to remember the way he had been. The way he had been sprawled like a lounging, powerful beast on the couch. The way his elegant fingers had stroked his member. The way he had made her ache.

  Oh, sweet mercy, how he had made her ache.

  How could she not think? Remember? Relive?

  A sheaf of papers suddenly smacked her on the face, and she crashed back down to earth to see Pepper giving her an evil, saccharine smile. "Sorry. I didn't think I'd hit you."

  Liar, Diana thought. But because the memories had her body still tingling and humming, she couldn’t even summon a single ounce of anger. Looking down, she saw that the papers were the schedule request forms the professor had spoken about, and she took one for herself before passing it to the guy on her other side.

  He gave her a sympathetic smile, saying in a low, conspiratorial tone, "Don't mind her. She's just jealous your proposal's got a better shot at winning MPT."

  "MPT?"

  "Most Promising Thesis." This from Pepper, who apparently didn't mind letting them know she had been listening in. "And as Ms. Melodramatic here doesn't even know what it is---" The girl leaned over her desk just to bypass Diana and shoot a scornful look at the other student's direction. "You're absolutely delusional, to think that she's got a chance at beating me."

  Diana was flabbergasted at the vitriol embedded in the redhead's tone. "I wasn't---"

  "What happened earlier was a one-time fluke," Pepper hissed. "We'll see how you'll really fare when you're made to defend it." And as if she felt she hadn't been explicit enough in expressing her hatred, she snarled under her breath, "Bi---"

  "Careful, Ms. Lowell," a silken warning interrupted Pepper, and when the three of them looked up, it was, of course, no other than the professor. None of them had noticed him coming up to them, and maybe it was just her, but Diana couldn't help thinking how he looked every inch an avenging archangel with his blazing golden eyes and every lethal inch of him radiating a dangerous form of rage.

  An archangel, Diana couldn't help thinking, who also happened to be so much more stylish than all the other professors she had known in her life.

  With his cobalt three-piece suit (tweed, of course) including a single-breasted waistcoat that boasted of velvet trimmings for its pockets, he should have appeared laughably overdressed for conducting a lecture. But because he was, after all, T-PILF, he only ended up being more breathtaking than usual while at the same time making everyone else feel overwhelmingly underdressed.

  It was probably why everyone came to his class with ironed shirts and zero sandal sightings---

  "Diana?"

  She blinked, the sound of her name bringing her back to reality, and then she blinked again, seeing that the professor was no longer there and - was it just her imagination, or did Pepper seem to be fighting back tears?

  "You okay?"

  It was the guy seated on her right again, and it took a second longer than it should for Diana to recall that his name was Lars. "Um, yes, sorry."

  "I have a feeling you totally missed the last two minutes," Lars whispered. He seemed a pleasant enough guy, with light brown hair and an affable smile that had the power to put everyone at ease.

  In fact, he had that smile on now, and she returned it tentatively while reminding herself to relax. "I'm afraid so. I was...thinking," she finished lamely. From kindergarten to Christopoulos University, she had always had Katya to act as a buffer between her and the opposite sex. It was only here
in Helder Meer that she had been forced to come out of her shell and test her social skills on guys who were neither her brother nor men she had known since childhood.

  "Well, you missed the best part unfortunately, but I'll do my best to recap. Firstly---" Lars nodded towards Pepper, who had just vacated her seat and flounced off in the professor's direction, schedule request form in hand. "Bitch got schooled. Hard."

  The words had her choking, more so when the other student went on to add, "She tried to make light of what happened, but Professor de Graaf wasn't buying any of her B.S. She got a citation on the spot, and a warning that the next time she ever so much as looked at your direction the wrong way, she would be asked to drop the class or be graded an automatic F."

  Diana's jaw had dropped by the time Lars finished speaking. "I missed all that?"

  "There was also the part the professor invited me to be your knight in shining armor," Lars joked.

  "You mean my babysitter," Diana tried to tease back, and her baby step in socializing was rewarded with Lars turning a little red in the ears.

  Schubert started playing from the PA system, and Lars appeared visibly disappointed at finding out that their class had officially ended. "See you next class I guess?"

  "See you." She managed another awkward smile before turning away, and as she reached for her bag, it was then she saw the request form she had yet to fill out.

  A wild, crazy germ of an idea struck her, and Diana's heart thundered against her chest.

  Could she? Should she? Would she?

  Only one way to find out, Diana thought, and taking her pen up, she started scribbling.

  It was around ten in the evening and Diana was about to hit the sack when a system-generated message from Helder Meer's registrar arrived at her inbox.

  Subject: Schedule for Thesis Consultation

  Dear Ms. Diana Leventis,

  Your requested schedule for thesis consultation for Novel Therapy under Professor Matthijs de Graaf has been approved.

  Tuesday 0500 - 0700

  Friday 2100 - 2300

  Diana unconsciously pressed a hand to her chest. Ad Altiora Tendo for the win.

  Him

  The professor was getting used to cursing his stupidity.

  Consternation struck him the moment the system sent his confirmation slips out to the wild. He had never been the type to second-guess himself, but ever since that girl happened---

  Matthijs raked a hand through his hair.

  Had it really been only a week since he met her?

  Necessity had made him a creature of habit, with every minute of his day accounted for. And he had been fine with that. Until - again - she happened.

  For the entire week now, he had been doing things out of character. Pleasuring himself in front of a student. Saying fucking sorry. And his latest insanity? Actually saying yes to meeting her on hours they would be least supervised...and anything could happen.

  After a discomfitingly sleepless night (or despite it in this case), the professor still woke at exactly a quarter to five on a cloudy Sunday morning. It was his least favorite day of the week, but he had long learned to make do.

  His morning routine took up ninety minutes of his time, followed by an hour's session at his personal gym. After this was desk toil: assignments and essays to grade, correspondence to reply to, and journals to read and analyze.

  Seminars and conferences were supposed to take up the remaining hours of the day, but there were rare occasions when the rest of the world refused to cooperate. This week's Sunday was such a day, with most of his professional acquaintances opting to honor Sabbath the way the Lord meant to, thus leaving his calendar glaringly empty.

  With nothing to keep him from dwelling on his fuck-ups, the professor found himself brooding over the latest cause of disturbance in his otherwise orderly life. Diana had sent him a text message last night, thanking him for approving her schedule request. It was, they both knew, also an invitation. To flirt. Play sexual games. Stay fucking connected.

  And fuck yes, but the invitation had worked, and it had him typing as fast as he could.

  A thank-you text won't cut it. I want you here with me, on my lap, your pussy impaled on my dick.

  That was what he had typed.

  But what he ended up sending was: You're welcome.

  Two words that were supposed to be the right thing to do, but it sure hadn't felt right, and it still didn't, with the silence from her end driving him crazy and making his Sundays even more intolerable than they usually were.

  What if his rather impersonal reply had her entertaining stupid thoughts? What if he had hurt her without meaning to, driven her to someone else's arms, like that boy Lars?

  Too many goddamn what-ifs, but he somehow managed to control himself from doing anything stupid.

  Sinning, at the very least, could wait until Monday.

  Her

  Diana couldn't believe what Bernie was saying.

  Sick? The professor had called in sick?

  Looking around, she saw that the rest of the class appeared as bewildered as she was, none of them able to picture any kind of illness daring to befall on someone as intimidatingly and vibrantly virile as the professor.

  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 fuc
king 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."