Professor doesn't preach

Who is Reed?

Emma, still trembling but regaining her senses, looked around the dimly lit room and bombarded Reed with questions. "Where are we? What is this place? Who started those gunshots? What is happening?" Her voice was shaky, but her confusion and fear were evident.

Reed sighed, his eyes dark and serious. “It’s not something you need to know, Emma,” he replied, his voice calm but firm. “I think you should just go home and rest.” He paused, taking a deep breath as if considering his next words. “Come, I’ll drop you off.”

Emma’s frustration bubbled over at his cold, distant response. “What is this behavior?” she snapped, standing up suddenly. “You think you can just tell me to leave after everything? I’ll go by myself, thanks.” She turned toward the door, her anger masking the fear she had just felt.

Before she could leave, Reed quickly grabbed her hand, his grip firm but gentle. “It’s not safe, Emma. Don’t be stubborn. Let me make sure you’re okay.”

The ride home was silent, thick with tension. Emma’s mind was a whirlwind of thoughts—about the chaos at the club, about Reed’s mysterious involvement, and about the way he’d held her so protectively. She was angry at him but also confused by her feelings. Reed, on the other hand, kept his eyes on the road, his jaw tight, deep in thought. When they arrived, Reed instructed one of his bodyguards to discreetly watch over her house from the outside, ensuring her safety.

---

**Meanwhile, at Claire’s House**

At Claire’s lavish home, the atmosphere was tense. Claire’s father, a well-connected businessman, was furious. “What were you thinking? You could have chosen any other place for your party, but you chose *that* place—Reed’s club!”

Claire rolled her eyes, crossing her arms defensively. “Relax, Dad. We didn’t start anything. Besides, I know Reed. He wouldn’t harm us.”

Her father’s stern expression softened only slightly. “You may know him, but Reed follows his own strict rules. He doesn’t start fights, but he always finishes them. You were reckless, Claire.”

Claire, though outwardly confident, felt a pang of guilt deep inside. She had her own agenda with Reed, and this wasn’t just about having fun at a party. She had always liked Reed, even before he joined their college as a professor. He was powerful, mysterious, and unattainable—all things that made her want him even more. She had orchestrated the evening carefully, inviting Emma and pushing her toward Claire’s cousin, hoping to distract her. But Emma hadn’t shown any interest.

*Emma...* Claire thought bitterly. She had noticed the way Reed looked at Emma, the subtle glances they exchanged, and it filled her with jealousy. She had made Emma her friend, but only as a way to keep an eye on her. Claire had gone so far as to orchestrate the blackmail situation, planting the idea with her cousin to mess with Emma. It was all part of her plan to make Emma feel small and out of place, hoping she would eventually distance herself from Reed.

Her father’s voice broke through her thoughts. “Claire, Reed is not someone to mess with. He’s not interested in these games. You need to be careful.”

But Claire’s jealousy had already poisoned her thoughts. She couldn’t let Emma have him. Not Reed. She had worked too hard to get close to him, and she wasn’t about to let some “sweet, innocent” classmate take that away from her. No, Claire wasn’t done. Not by a long shot.

After dropping Emma home, Reed drove back to his mansion—an opulent, sprawling estate nestled in the outskirts of the city, far from prying eyes. To the outside world, Reed was a respected professor, but beneath the surface, he was much more. He was the head of one of Italy's most powerful mafia families, feared and respected in equal measure. His reputation preceded him—dangerous, ruthless, and utterly unshakable. He wielded influence across Europe, his network stretching into the deepest corners of the criminal underworld.

Claire’s father had once been a bitter rival of Reed’s family, but tensions had eased in recent years. Thanks to Reed’s intervention, the two families had reached an uneasy truce after Reed helped them against a Russian syndicate threatening both their interests. Now, they stayed out of each other's way, neither friends nor enemies—just two powerful forces coexisting.

As Reed walked into his mansion, the weight of the night settled on his broad shoulders. He loosened his tie and undid the top two buttons of his shirt, collapsing onto his luxurious leather sofa. He spread his arms along the backrest, staring up at the intricate ceiling. His mind raced with thoughts of Emma—how she had looked so vulnerable in his arms, how he had been unable to resist her pull.

*How could I stop myself?* he thought, frustration simmering beneath his calm exterior. *I don’t know when you became so important to me, Emma...*

Reed wasn’t a man who let emotions cloud his judgment. But something about Emma—her innocence, her warmth—had slipped past his defenses. She had unknowingly wormed her way into his life, and now she occupied his thoughts more than anything else.

Pulling his phone from his pocket, he dialed James, the bodyguard he had assigned to watch over Emma. The call connected, but Reed hesitated. What would he even say? He didn’t want to appear overprotective, but his concern for her safety gnawed at him. After a moment, he ended the call without speaking and stood up, running a hand through his dark hair in frustration.

Reed strode purposefully to his private office, where the real work awaited him. He was a man of many faces—calculated in business, commanding in the mafia, and recently, uncharacteristically protective when it came to Emma.

As he entered, Peter, his right-hand man, was already waiting. Reed’s office was sleek and modern, filled with high-tech equipment, all connected to his vast network of informants, surveillance, and covert operations.

“Peter,” Reed said in a low, authoritative voice. “I need the full report on tonight’s incident at the club. Show me the footage of what happened.”

Peter nodded and immediately began pulling up security footage from the club. The screens around Reed’s desk lit up with multiple camera angles, showing the chaos and gunfire that had erupted. Reed’s eyes narrowed as he studied the footage.

“I want the culprits identified by tomorrow morning,” Reed said, his tone cold and dangerous. “No loose ends. And you know how to handle them.”

Peter didn’t need any further instructions. He knew Reed’s methods—swift, decisive, and unforgiving. The people responsible for the violence would be tracked down and dealt with, without question. In Reed’s world, there was no room for mercy when it came to threats.

Reed spent the rest of the night juggling multiple operations. His mafia dealings, the investigation into the club attack, and thoughts of Emma all swirled in his mind. He buried himself in his work, as he often did, pushing aside the emotions that Emma stirred within him. But no matter how much he tried to focus, his thoughts kept drifting back to her.

By the time dawn broke, Reed had gathered all the intel he needed. The culprits were being tracked, and his plans were in motion. But even with everything under control, one thing remained unresolved in his mind—his growing feelings for Emma, a complication he hadn’t anticipated.