Unknown

KILLERS IN SUITS

KEVIN

The morning sun hit my face like an insult. I sat up, the silence of the room a stark contrast to the chaos in my head. Leo was a lump under his covers, snoring softly.

I dressed in silence, pulling on a black hoodie. I checked my bag: laptop, notebook, and the blueprints I had studied until my eyes burned last night. I wasn't here to learn ethics; I was here to profile a monster.

I was early. After all, I can't be late for the only class I have been looking forward to, can I? I sat in the third row, my body rigid. Not too close, but not too far in case I miss the subtle heinous monster.

Students began to file in, a sea of chatter and bright colors. I watched them with a detached coldness. Sheep. All of them. Walking blindly into the den. And then, I saw her.

The girl from the café.

She walked in clutching her notebook to her chest, looking flustered. Her hair was loose, falling in soft waves around her face. As she scanned the room for a seat, her eyes locked onto mine.

My breath hitched. It wasn't the confusion I saw yesterday. Her gaze was... different. Darker. Her cheeks flushed a deep crimson the second she saw me, and she looked away quickly, biting her lip.

Professor Alistair Finch entered the room, bathed in the admiration of a hundred naive students. He was silver-haired, sharp-suited, and exuded the kind of practiced authority that made people stop asking questions.

"Good morning, everyone," Finch began, his voice smooth, a conductor preparing his orchestra. "Let's dive right in. What do you understand by ethics in business? And more importantly, how far can we bend those principles in the real world without breaking them?"

I gripped my pen until the plastic creaked. Bend. That was his word for it.

Hands shot up around me. A girl in the front row started spouting textbook definitions about integrity. Another guy, trying to sound edgy, argued that ethics were just flexible tools for profit. Finch nodded along, his smile indulgent.

I couldn't take it anymore.

I raised my hand. Finch’s eyes, cold and calculating despite the smile, landed on me. He nodded.

"Ethics," I said, my voice sounding louder than I intended, laced with ice. "Are supposed to prevent monsters from hiding behind boardrooms. But bending them? That's just a fancy way of justifying bloodshed for gain. Some lines shouldn't be crossed, no matter the payoff."

The class murmured, shifting uncomfortably. Finch’s smile tightened just a fraction.

"Strong words, Mr...?"

"Reeves," I replied, locking eyes with him. I wanted him to really look at me, to see the wreckage he’d caused. "And I've seen what happens when 'bending' goes too far. It destroys lives, and the guilty walk free."

Finch leaned back against his desk, completely unfazed. It was like throwing pebbles at a tank.

"Ah, idealism," he chuckled dismissively. "In business, survival demands pragmatism. Bending ethics isn't betrayal; it's adaptation. Tell me, Mr. Reeves, have you ever faced a cutthroat deal? Or is this all theory?"

My jaw clenched so hard my teeth ached. Theory?

"Try watching someone you love get crushed by a 'pragmatic' decision," I shot back, my voice dropping an octave, deadly serious. "Ethics aren't optional. They're the only thing keeping us from becoming killers in suits."

Finch waved a hand, bored. "Passion noted, but let's not dramatize. Ethics evolve with the market."

He turned away, dismissing me like a child. I sank back into my seat, adrenaline flooding my veins. The rest of the lecture was a blur of his polished rhetoric, but I wasn't listening. I was watching. And I noticed that girl. She was staring at me, her face flushed a deep, distracting crimson. She looked like she was burning up from the inside out.

Maybe she wouldn't be that much of a distraction if I just let her in?

MIA

I felt his eyes on me like a physical touch.

The bell rang, but I didn't move. I couldn't. My legs felt like jelly.

The air in the classroom still crackled with the friction between Mr. Reeves and the Professor, but the heat inside my body had nothing to do with ethics. It was entirely about him.

Oh God! I need to freakin' focus but...his intensity during the debate...the way his voice had dropped, the raw power in his glare, the way he spoke about "monsters" and "killers"—had mirrored the dark, demanding fantasies that had kept me awake all night.

I packed my bag slowly, my hands trembling. The memory of last night invaded my thoughts without permission. I could still feel the ghost of the sensations—humping my pillow, my vibrator buzzing relentlessly against my c**t, while I imagined his hands pinning me down. In my mind, he hadn't been debating; he had been commanding. Whispering filthy things in my ear, his c**k replacing the toy, slamming into me while I begged for more.

I looked up, and my breath hitched. Kevin was standing up. He wasn't leaving with the crowd. He was weaving through the desks, coming straight toward me.

Up close, the reality of him was overwhelming. He towered over my desk, blocking out the light. His scent hit me instantly—clean soap mixed with a faint, masculine cologne. It was intoxicating, hitting my system like a drug.

"Hey," he said. His voice was low, a rumble that vibrated straight down to my core.

"I-I'm Kevin."

He stepped closer, invading my personal space. I could feel the warmth radiating from his chest. His dark eyes scanned my face, lingering on my cheeks, which I knew were burning red.

Shit! Did he know? Could he see the guilt and the arousal written all over me? Fuck

"M-Mia," I stammered. My voice sounded breathless, pathetic. My n*****s hardened against the fabric of my shirt, betraying me.

He didn't back away. He leaned in, placing a hand on the edge of my desk, trapping me in his orbit. The proximity was dizzying.

"Listen, Mia," he murmured, his tone shifting from polite to urgent. "That professor? Finch? He's not the smart, amazing guy everyone thinks."

I blinked, trying to focus on his words through the haze of my own desire.

"He's got blood on his hands," Kevin whispered, his eyes dark and serious. "He hides it behind all that ethical bullshit. I just thought you should know."

He paused, his gaze dropping to my lips for a split second before snapping back to my eyes.

"Stay away from him."

My eyes widened. The warning carried a dark, dangerous edge that sent a thrill shooting through me, mixing with the arousal pooling between my legs. It was a command. Just like in my dream.

I nodded, my lips parting, wondering, even pleading in my mind, if he would ever command me to do something else.

I am so done for...and it's just the start.