Professor Lucien

Sofia Pov I have never done anything so risky in my life, but here I am, fumbling with the locks outside Professor Lucien Drake's office—about to break in. The hallway is too quiet. My fingers tremble as I jiggle the key, praying no one walks by. Every click of the metal sounds like a gunshot. You're probably wondering why I'm here. Good. Because my heart is about to burst out of my chest. Maybe letting my mind wander will ease my trembling fingers. So—my friends and I have been partying all week. The College Titanic football team won three matches in a row, so of course, we celebrated like idiots. Which means... we didn’t study. At all. For Professor Drake’s big test. The one that’s 45% of our grade. I have two friends—Mia and Keira. Lovely, reckless, bad-decision-making Mia and Keira. They're the reason I’m about to fail this class... unless I manage to break into this office and snap a photo of tomorrow’s test. My phone dings. I yank it out, already hating the message on the screen. Hurry, Sofia. The staff meeting ends in twenty minutes. “f**k,” I hiss as the lock finally clicks open. I slip inside. The office is... immaculate. Of course it is. Just like Professor Drake—always sharp, serious, and terrifyingly clean-cut. Everything’s lined up. Where do I start? I dash to the cabinet. Yank it open. Bingo. I smile, grab my phone, and take a quick shot of the paper sitting neatly on the top shelf. Questions. Objective answers. I got it. Another ping. Ten minutes left. Hurry. I mutter another curse, slam the cabinet shut, and turn to run—only to freeze. He’s there. Professor Drake. Standing in the doorway. His arms are crossed. His jaw is tight. And he is not smiling. "What are you doing in here?" he asks with a death stare My phone must have slipped out of my trembling hands, because I only hear it crashing on the floor. "Professor Drake?" My voice comes out shakier than I anticipate. His jaw ticks as he steps into the office, shutting the door behind him. "What were you doing in here?" he asks, a little more quietly, but I can feel the anger behind every word. “I came to ask for an explanation on last lesson.” Liar. Big fat liar. And I didn’t even blink when I said it. God, I deserve an Oscar—or prison. My heart is pounding fast. I thought I still had ten minutes. How did he get here so fast? I don't know why I agreed with Mia and Keira on this, but looking back, this was a suicide mission. I'm dead. I know that, as Professor Drake bends down and picks up my phone. I almost pee in my clothes. My phone is brightly displaying the last photo I clicked—the answer booklet. I press my lips together to stop myself from breaking down in tears. Getting caught in something like this doesn't need debating—I'm going to get expelled. Professor Drake is staring at my phone screen like it’s an alien object. His expression doesn’t change as his eyes meet mine. I shudder. His eyes are the strangest black I have ever seen, and God, this man is intimidating. “Explanation on the last lesson, huh? Your phone seems to be saying something else, Sophia Carson.” “You know my name.” I almost forget I should be pleading when my name rolls off his lips—painfully perfect. “Sophia Carson. Recently turned 21. Lives with her grandmother because her parents are divorced and both parties recently remarried.” I shudder. It gives off weird.A slow chill creeps up my spine. How does he know all that? “I know all my students, Miss Carson.” I relax. He’s just a detailed lecturer.Or maybe just a very intense one. My phone dings. His eyes are on the screen, and his lips tilt a bit. “You have really good friends, don’t you, Miss Carson?” I want to disappear. Mia and Keira are only going to make everything worse with their endless texting. God, what was I thinking? I wouldn’t have been in this mess if they didn’t push me into it. No—if I didn’t let them. “Professor—” He cuts me off with a raise of his index finger as he tosses my phone on his desk. The silence between us stretches—painfully. I know nothing is going to change his mind from reporting me to the Disciplinary Committee, but I don’t want to get expelled. Grandma Tessa would be so disappointed. I don’t know how I’d feel if she looks at me with those sad brown eyes.I swallow hard, but my throat feels like sandpaper. My heart is punching my ribcage. My phone dings again. Professor Drake is staring at the screen like it’s an enemy zone. He doesn’t say anything. His jaw ticks. His brow twitches. “So I’m Professor Grumpy Pants, huh?” He doesn't smile. “Shit.” I wince. That’s the nickname we gave Professor Drake. No one has actually seen him smile, so most of us call him Grumpy Pants. Doesn’t mean we should actually say it to his face. My throat is so dry it actually begins to hurt. He finally looks up, his expression unreadable. “I could report you to the Disciplinary Committee.” “Please don’t. I don’t wanna get expelled.” “Shut up and listen,” he snaps. Every part of me goes still as I look at him. His hands go to his tie, loosening it, and he unbuttons the first two buttons on his shirt.I look away. Why is he even hotter when he’s angry? Focus, Sofia. You’re in trouble—not a rom-com. Either way, you ain't supposed to check out your older professor. That's disgusting. Professor Lucien Drake is obviously good-looking—standing at six feet, with flawless skin and perfect teeth. He’s probably a sight for the female teachers’ sore eyes. Actually, female students like him too, but whenever they approach him, he doesn’t entertain them—which brought about the name Grumpy Pants. "As I said, I could report you to the school disciplinary committee, but..." I don’t wait for him to finish. My heart somersaults in panic, pounding so loud it feels like it might burst through my chest. Cold tile presses against my knees as I fall, begging him like my life depends on it. "Please, my grandma might die of a heart attack." A slow, dangerous grin spreads across his face. I feel the weight of his gaze, heavy and unreadable, and it sends a shiver down my spine. "I may decide to let this go and punish you myself—if you cooperate, Miss Carson." "You will let this go?" I ask, my voice trembling, using my shoulder to wipe the tears that roll down my cheeks. I lift my eyes to his, searching for any hint of mercy. He leans against the desk slowly, unbothered by my pathetic tears. "Like I said, if only you cooperate." Cooperate? It doesn’t sound good—the way his eyes darken as he stares down at me. “And allow me punish you myself.” My breath catches. What does he mean by punish? My mind races with every possible scenario—none of them good. Yet part of me—terrified, confused, and foolish—can’t look away. “How do you intend to punish me, Professor Drake?” His eyes darken more. Something in them flickers—dangerous, deliberate. In a voice so calm, it almost makes me groan, he says, “Get up and come here.” It’s low. Too low. It scrapes something raw in me. A shiver runs down my spine. My knees feel weak, but not from fear alone. For some wrong reason, I can’t breathe anymore. “Come here, Sofia.” My eyes stay locked on Professor Lucien as my heart hammers against my ribs. Of course I know what he wants. Or maybe I have an idea. Or maybe I’m dead wrong… But the look in his eyes says it all: I want to f**k you. “Come here. Sofia.” My fingers curl at my sides as my cheeks burn in embarrassment. Why do I want to listen? * * * * Dear You, I don’t know how you found this story. Maybe it was chance. Maybe you just needed something — a distraction, an escape, or maybe just to feel something real again. Either way… I’m glad you’re here. Truly. This story doesn’t scream at first. It whispers. Starts with stolen glances and quiet ache — like a warning wrapped in silk. But I promise you… it won’t stay gentle. You’ll meet Lucien — broken, beautiful, trying so hard to be good when the world keeps asking him to fall. And Sofia — fiery, reckless, with a heart that beats too loudly for the life she’s been handed. They weren’t supposed to find each other. They definitely weren’t supposed to want each other. But some connections defy rules, reason… even guilt. And if you keep reading — by the time you reach Episode 22 — you might just understand why the most dangerous love stories are the ones that feel like home. Thank you for giving this story a chance. I hope it touches something deep in you. The raw part. The brave part. The part still hoping to be seen. Tap “Fan” if you’re ready to go deeper — we’re just getting started. With all my messy love, — Eva Snowflakes