The Professor's Forbidden Lesson

Chapter Two - No Regrets

POV: Adrian Blackwood

The first thing I noticed when I woke was the warmth.

The second was the woman curled against my side.

The third was that I had absolutely no idea what time it was, and for once in my life, I didn’t particularly care.

Sunlight slipped through a narrow gap in the curtains, casting a pale gold stripe across the bed. The city beyond the windows was already awake, cars crawling along the streets far below, but the hotel room remained quiet.

Bella was asleep with her back partially turned toward me, her dark hair spread across the pillow. One hand rested near my chest, her fingers curled loosely against the sheet.

She looked different in the morning.

Not less beautiful. If anything, that was the problem.

Last night, she’d been all sharp remarks, bright eyes, and a smile that challenged me to keep up with her. She’d looked at me as though my expensive suit and carefully maintained composure were mildly amusing inconveniences.

This morning, she looked peaceful.

And I found myself wondering what she looked like when she was truly happy.

I had spent years becoming a man who didn’t wonder about things like that.

I had a career that demanded my attention, responsibilities that followed me everywhere, and a life arranged so efficiently that spontaneity had become an inconvenience rather than a pleasure.

I knew how to negotiate contracts worth millions.

I knew how to silence a room without raising my voice.

I knew how to identify a bad decision before most people had finished considering it.

Yet here I was, lying in a hotel bed beside a woman whose surname I didn’t know, wondering whether she would smile at me when she opened her eyes.

It was absurd.

Completely absurd.

I wanted to do it again.

Not just the night before.

The conversation. The laughter. The way she’d challenged me over her university project as though she’d been waiting her entire life for someone foolish enough to disagree with her.

I wanted another evening with her.

Another conversation.

Another chance to hear that laugh.

And I wanted to kiss her again.

That last thought was particularly inconvenient.

I glanced at the clock.

Seven forty-three.

I had cancelled my morning commitments before going to bed, which was unusual enough to suggest I might be suffering from a temporary personality disorder.

I shifted slightly, intending to reach for my phone.

Bella stirred.

Her fingers brushed my chest.

Then her eyes opened.

For a moment, she simply looked at me.

I watched the recognition settle over her face, followed by a slow smile.

“Morning, stranger.”

I smiled back.

“Morning, trouble.”

She stretched beneath the sheet, then tucked one arm beneath her pillow.

“What time is it?”

“Almost eight.”

She groaned.

“That’s disgusting.”

“Good morning to you too.”

“I was hoping for at least another four hours.”

“You can have them.”

She blinked at me.

“Just like that?”

“I don’t see why not.”

She studied my face, and I saw the exact moment her smile turned mischievous.

“Are you trying to keep me in bed?”

“Is it working?”

“Possibly.”

“Then I consider it a successful morning.”

She laughed, and something warm moved through my chest.

There it was again.

That ridiculous feeling.

I wanted to hear her laugh all day.

I was in serious trouble.

“Coffee,” Bella announced approximately ten minutes later.

She sat upright against the pillows, holding the hotel duvet against herself with one hand and pointing toward the room’s telephone with the other.

“Coffee is an excellent idea.”

“Excellent. You can order it.”

I raised an eyebrow.

“Why am I ordering it?”

“Because you’re closer to the phone.”

“The phone is on the other side of the room.”

“Exactly. You’re closer.”

I looked at the telephone.

Then at her.

“Your logic is flawless.”

“I know.”

I reached for the phone.

“How do you take it?”

“Two sugars. Milk. And if the hotel has those little chocolate croissants, I would like at least three.”

“At least three?”

“I’ve had a difficult month.”

“Naturally.”

“And Adrian?”

“Yes?”

She gave me a sweet smile.

“Don’t forget the chocolate.”

I placed the order, including the chocolate croissants.

When I turned back, she was watching me with an expression of deep satisfaction.

“What?” I asked.

“Nothing.”

“You’re smiling.”

“I’m happy.”

The simple answer caught me off guard.

She seemed to notice.

Her expression softened slightly.

“Is that strange?”

“No.”

“You’re looking at me as if I’ve just told you I plan to rob a bank.”

“I was under the impression that happiness was a more complicated affair.”

“Not always.”

She pulled the duvet higher around herself and settled against the pillows.

“Sometimes you just need a good night’s sleep, excellent coffee, and a man who orders you chocolate croissants without asking whether you really need them.”

I laughed.

“I don’t remember agreeing to become responsible for your pastry consumption.”

“Too late. You’ve been promoted.”

“To what?”

“Personal pastry assistant.”

“An impressive career progression.”

“You should be grateful. I have high standards.”

I leaned toward her.

“Do you?”

She met my gaze.

“Very.”

I let my eyes drop briefly to her mouth.

“And how am I doing?”

Her smile turned slow.

“You’re making a very promising start.”

I kissed her.

It was supposed to be a quick kiss, something light and affectionate to accompany the exchange.

Bella had other ideas.

She caught the front of my shirt and pulled me closer, smiling against my mouth.

I laughed softly.

“What happened to the coffee?”

“It’s being prepared.”

“And the croissants?”

“Also being prepared.”

“Then I suppose we have time.”

She kissed me again.

“Look at you,” she murmured. “Finally understanding the importance of priorities.”

I had negotiated with men who would have made most people uncomfortable simply by entering a room.

I had stared down hostile executives, endured hours of tedious meetings, and once convinced an entire board of directors to reverse a decision they’d spent six months defending.

None of it had prepared me for Bella Hayes looking at me as though kissing me was the most reasonable thing in the world.

I kissed her again.

And for a while, the coffee could wait.

Breakfast arrived at eight fifteen.

Bella regarded the tray as though it contained the solution to every problem she’d ever encountered.

“Oh, this is beautiful.”

I looked at the coffee.

The croissants.

The fruit.

The small pot of honey.

Then I looked at her.

“It’s breakfast.”

She gave me an offended look.

“It’s an experience.”

“Of course.”

“Don’t mock me. You don’t understand what university does to a person.”

“I’ve met university students before.”

She pointed a croissant at me.

“Not students like me.”

I laughed.

“No, I suspect not.”

We ate sitting on the bed, with the tray balanced between us. Bella told me about the project she’d finished, the professor who had assigned it, and the classmate who had contributed so little to the group work that she’d briefly considered submitting the entire project under her own name.

“Did you?” I asked.

“No. I’m a good person.”

“Clearly.”

“I thought about it, though.”

“I admire your restraint.”

“Thank you. It’s one of my finest qualities.”

She took a sip of coffee and regarded me over the rim of her cup.

“So what about you?”

“What about me?”

“What do you do?”

There it was.

The question I’d somehow managed to avoid all night.

I set down my coffee.

“I work in business.”

Her eyes narrowed.

“That is the most suspicious answer I’ve ever heard.”

“It’s also true.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

I smiled.

“You didn’t ask a question. You demanded a professional biography.”

“Fine. What sort of business?”

“Consulting. Investments. A little legal work.”

She considered that.

“You’re a lawyer?”

“Among other things.”

“That sounds exhausting.”

“It can be.”

“Do you enjoy it?”

The question was simple.

Her tone wasn’t particularly serious, but she was watching me with genuine curiosity.

I thought about giving her the answer I gave everyone else.

I enjoy the challenge.

I like building things.

I appreciate the intellectual stimulation.

Instead, I found myself telling her the truth.

“Sometimes. I enjoy solving problems. I enjoy being good at what I do. But I don’t always enjoy what it requires from me.”

Bella nodded slowly.

“I understand that.”

“You do?”

“Of course. I love what I’m studying, but sometimes I hate the way it takes over my life. There’s always another assignment, another exam, another thing I should be doing.”

She set her cup down.

“I don’t want to spend my entire life being good at something and forget to enjoy actually being alive.”

I looked at her.

There was no grand declaration in her voice. No carefully rehearsed speech about ambition or success.

She simply meant it.

“When did you become so wise?” I asked.

She shrugged.

“Probably around the time I started drinking expensive cocktails.”

“An excellent educational institution.”

“Ten out of ten. Would recommend.”

I laughed, and she smiled.

Then she leaned her head against my shoulder.

The gesture was so natural that I went still for half a second.

I couldn’t remember the last time someone had done something like that without wanting something from me.

No request.

No calculated affection.

No attempt to gain my attention or approval.

Just Bella, resting against me because she wanted to.

I placed my arm around her.

She continued talking about her plans for after graduation, her desire to build a career she could be proud of, and her determination never to become someone who measured her worth by the amount of money in her bank account.

I listened.

Really listened.

And somewhere between the coffee and the last chocolate croissant, I realised something deeply inconvenient.

I wasn’t waiting for the morning to end.

I was hoping it wouldn’t.

“Can I ask you something?” Bella said.

We’d finished breakfast. The tray had been moved to the table, and she was sitting cross-legged on the bed, wearing one of my shirts.

It was a sight I suspected would stay with me for a very long time.

“Anything.”

“Was last night a one-time thing?”

I looked at her.

She wasn’t smiling now.

There was no accusation in her voice, but I recognised the question for what it was.

She wanted to know whether I’d enjoyed myself enough to want to see her again.

Whether she was about to become a pleasant memory I would never mention.

Whether I’d leave her with a polite goodbye and a vague promise that we should do it again sometime.

I didn’t want to do that.

Not even slightly.

“No.”

She blinked.

“No?”

“No, it wasn’t a one-time thing.”

Her shoulders relaxed.

“Good.”

I studied her face.

“Did you think I was going to say otherwise?”

“I didn’t know what you were going to say.”

“Would it have bothered you?”

She considered the question.

Then she looked directly at me.

“Yes.”

The honesty of her answer affected me more than it should have.

“Why?”

“Because I like you.”

I stared at her.

She rolled her eyes.

“Oh, don’t look so surprised. You’re attractive, you’re funny when you’re not pretending to be intimidating, and you actually listen when I talk. It’s a very dangerous combination.”

I laughed.

“That’s your assessment of me?”

“So far.”

“And what would improve it?”

She pretended to consider the matter.

“Another date.”

“Another date?”

“Yes. Preferably one involving dinner, because I’m not prepared to build an entire relationship around hotel croissants.”

I moved closer.

“You’re planning a relationship already?”

Her eyes widened.

“I am planning dinner. Don’t get ahead of yourself, Mr Business.”

I smiled.

“Of course.”

She pointed at me.

“And don’t call me adorable.”

I hadn’t realised I was about to.

“Would you prefer charming?”

“No.”

“Beautiful?”

She hesitated.

I smiled.

“Interesting.”

“Don’t look so pleased with yourself.”

“Impossible.”

She threw a pillow at me.

I caught it, laughing.

Then I set it aside and reached for her hand.

“One date,” I said. “Dinner. Somewhere you choose.”

Her expression softened.

“Really?”

“Really.”

“And you’re not going to cancel because you suddenly remember you have a meeting with some very important people?”

“I’ll make time.”

She searched my face.

“You’re serious.”

“Yes, Bella. I’m serious.”

She smiled.

“Then I accept.”

I lifted her hand and kissed her knuckles.

It was a small gesture, almost old-fashioned.

Her expression changed as I did it.

For a moment, neither of us spoke.

Then she leaned forward and kissed me.