Forbidden Lectures

Forbidden Lectures II

The rain was blurring the city lights into smears of gold and neon as I stood outside the door to Penthouse 4B. My hand hovered over the scanner, trembling. I wasn’t just crossing a doorstep; I was crossing a line that could end my career before it even started.

The door clicked open before I could even knock.

Julian stood there, but he wasn't the man I saw in the lecture hall. His white dress shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and he held a crystal glass of amber liquid in one hand. The sharp, cold academic had been replaced by something much more predatory.

"You're late, Maya," he said, his voice dropping into that low, velvet vibration.

"I almost didn't come," I whispered, stepping inside. The apartment was like him—minimalist, expensive, and intimidating. Floor-to-ceiling windows looked out over the campus, making the university look like a toy set below us.

"But you're here." He set his glass down on a marble coaster and walked toward me. Every step was deliberate. "Why?"

"Because I can't sleep," I admitted, my voice shaking as he stopped inches from me. "Because every time I close my eyes, I feel your hands on me. And then I wake up and have to sit in the front row and pretend I don’t know what you look like when you're—"

He didn't let me finish. His hand shot out, cupping my jaw and tilting my head back so I had to look into those dark, stormy eyes.

"You think it's easy for me?" he growled. "I stand at that podium and talk about logic and law while I'm watching you chew on the end of your pen, wondering if you're thinking about me. I have spent ten years building a reputation, and you destroyed it in a single night."

He leaned in, his nose brushing against mine. The scent of rain, scotch, and pure desire was overwhelming.

"I should send you home," he murmured, his thumb dragging across my lower lip. "I should tell you to drop my class and never look at me again."

"Are you going to?" I challenged, my breath hitching.

A dark smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth—the first real smile I’d seen on him. It wasn't kind; it was hungry.

"No," he whispered, his grip tightening just enough to make my heart skip a beat. "I’m going to make sure that by the time you leave this room, you’ve forgotten every single law except for mine."

The following morning, the sun was far too bright for the secret I was carrying. I walked into the university library, my body still humming from the heat of Julian’s apartment, only to find a small, cream-colored envelope sitting directly on top of my laptop.

No stamp. No return address. Just my name written in a sharp, unfamiliar scrawl.

I opened it, my heart sinking into my stomach. Inside was a single polaroid photo. It was grainy and dark, taken from a distance, but the subjects were unmistakable: Julian and I, tucked into the shadows of the West Wing alcove from two nights ago. His forehead was pressed against mine. My hand was clutching his tie.

On the back, a single sentence was typed:

"How much is your scholarship worth, Maya?"

Panic, cold and sharp, flooded my veins. I looked around the library, the rows of bookshelves suddenly feeling like eyes watching my every move. I grabbed the photo and ran. I didn't go to my dorm. I went straight to the one person who could destroy this—or save me.

I burst into Julian’s office without knocking. He was mid-sentence, talking to a fellow faculty member, a stern woman who looked at me with immediate disapproval.

"Ms. Thorne," Julian said, his voice instantly reverting to that icy, professional tone. He didn't even look up from the file on his desk. "I believe I told you that office hours begin at three."

"I need to speak with you," I said, my voice cracking. "Now."

The faculty member huffed, gathered her things, and brushed past me with a look of pure ice. The moment the door clicked shut, the "Professor" vanished. Julian was on his feet in a second, rounding the desk.

"Maya, what are you doing? Coming here like this is—"

I didn't speak. I just slammed the photo down on his mahogany desk.

He froze. I watched as his eyes scanned the image, then the threat on the back. The silence in the room became suffocating. His jaw tightened so hard I thought it might snap, and the air around him shifted from "academic" to "dangerous."

"Who sent this?" he whispered, his voice a low, terrifying vibration.

"I don't know," I choked out. "Julian, if the dean sees this, I’m expelled. And you..."

He looked up, and for the first time, I saw a flicker of something raw and unprotected in his eyes. He didn't care about his reputation. He cared about the photo.

He walked over to me, taking my face in both of his hands. His touch was firm, grounding. "Listen to me," he murmured, his eyes locked on mine. "No one is taking anything from you. Not your scholarship, and certainly not your future."

"How can you be so sure?"

A dark, lethal smile played on his lips—the look of a man who spent his life winning battles in a courtroom. "Because, Maya... whoever sent this thinks they’re playing a game with a student. They didn't realize they were declaring war on me.

The university gala was a sea of black ties, champagne, and forced smiles. It was the last place I wanted to be, but Julian had been clear: “If we hide, we look guilty. If we show up, we control the narrative.”

I wore a dress that felt like a second skin, midnight blue and cut low enough to be dangerous. I stayed near the buffet, trying to look like just another student, while Julian moved through the crowd like a king. He was charming, brilliant, and utterly cold.

Until he saw him.

Markus Reed. The Dean’s son and the top student in Julian’s class. He was leaning against a marble pillar, holding a glass of bourbon and watching me with a smirk that made my skin crawl.

"Enjoying the party, Maya?" Markus asked, stepping into my space. "Or are you just waiting for your next... private session?"

My heart stopped. He was the one. The blackmail, the photo—it was all him.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Markus," I whispered, my voice trembling.

"Don't lie. I saw the way he looked at you in the West Wing. I have the originals, you know. Not just the one I sent you." He leaned in closer, his voice a venomous hiss. "I want that internship at his firm. You’re going to make sure he gives it to me, or that photo goes to the Board of Regents tonight."

Before I could breathe, a shadow fell over us.

Julian didn't just walk up; he appeared like a storm cloud. He didn't look at me. He looked at Markus. The air around them turned freezing.

"Markus," Julian said, his voice terrifyingly calm. "I believe you’re in the wrong conversation."

"Professor," Markus sneered, though he stepped back an inch. "I was just telling Maya about my interest in your firm. I think I have the... leverage... to get the position."

Julian took a slow sip of his drink, his eyes never leaving Markus’s. "Leverage is a dangerous thing, Mr. Reed. It only works if you’re the only one who has it."

Julian reached into his tuxedo pocket and pulled out a small, encrypted flash drive. He held it up between two fingers.

"This is your academic record," Julian murmured. "The real one. The one that shows you paid a graduate student to write your last three papers. If I press 'send,' you aren't just losing an internship. You’re being expelled, stripped of your family’s trust, and blacklisted from every law school in the country."

Markus’s face went pale. The smirk vanished. "You... you can't prove that."

"I am the best legal mind in this state, Markus," Julian leaned in, his voice a lethal whisper. "I don't need to prove it. I just need to destroy you. Now, you will hand over your phone. You will delete every copy of that photo. And then, you will walk out of this gala and never speak Maya's name again."

Markus handed over the phone with shaking hands and disappeared into the crowd like a ghost.

Julian finally turned to me. His professional mask didn't slip, but he reached out and adjusted the strap of my dress, his fingers lingering against my skin for just a second too long.

"He's gone," Julian whispered, his eyes burning with a possessiveness that made my breath hitch. "But the night is far from over. Meet me in the library. I think it’s time we had a lecture on... consequences.