Professor doesn't preach

Hated

Reed drove in silence, his jaw clenched and his eyes focused straight ahead. Emma was fuming, still processing what had just happened. When they arrived at his mansion, she was struck by its sheer size and elegance. It wasn’t just a home — it felt like a fortress, with an aura of power that made her feel small. As the car approached, she noticed the large number of guards stationed around the property, each one standing alert, adding to the sense of intimidation.

Reed parked the car and got out, moving to her side to open the door. Emma immediately resisted, stepping out of the car and attempting to pull away. But Reed’s hand caught her wrist again, and this time, without saying a word, he hoisted her up onto his shoulder.

"Let me go!" she shouted, pounding her fists against his back, but it was futile. He carried her inside with the same commanding strength he had shown earlier. The guards watched but didn’t react, as if this was a normal occurrence in Reed’s world.

He walked through the grand hallways of the mansion until they reached a large, lavish room. The decor was opulent, but Emma barely noticed. Her mind was too clouded with anger, fear, and confusion. He set her down on the bed with surprising care, his firm hands holding her in place for a moment as he looked into her eyes.

“Emma,” he said in a low, controlled voice, “just be quiet and do as I say.”

She stared at him, wide-eyed, unable to comprehend what was happening. His presence, his power, was suffocating, and yet there was something in his voice that made her hesitate. Before she could say anything, Reed turned and left the room, closing the door behind him.

Emma sat there in the room, the silence pressing in around her. The hours dragged on, and as night fell, the weight of the day settled heavily on her shoulders. She was trapped in Reed’s world, and she had no idea what he wanted or what he would do next.

Late at night, Reed stumbled into Emma’s room, his footsteps unsteady, the smell of alcohol heavy in the air. He had been drinking, his face a mix of frustration and something deeper—something darker. He sat beside her on the edge of the bed, his movements slow, as though he were trying to steady himself.

Emma stirred and opened her eyes, startled to see him there. Instantly, her heart raced with anger and confusion." Are you drunk? "

She huffed asking this, "ridicluous!!"

"Why am I here, Alexander?" she demanded, her voice sharp. "Did you hurt my friend? You can't do this." Her eyes locked onto his, searching for answers.

Reed's expression hardened, his usual composure faltering under the weight of alcohol and emotion. "James is not your friend, Emma," he said coldly, his voice low but resolute. "He never was."

Emma’s eyes flashed with anger.

Without thinking, she grabbed his collar and pulled him close, her face inches from his. "I don’t want to listen to your orders!" she spat out, her breath shaking with fury.

Alexander’s eyes darkened, not with anger but with a storm of emotions he could no longer suppress. He cupped Emma’s cheek gently, his thumb brushing away a stray tear. “Emma…” he whispered, as if her name was the only thing anchoring him to the moment.

Before she could pull away or protest, his lips met hers in a kiss—soft but filled with unspoken longing. Emma’s breath hitched, her heart pounding wildly. The kiss wasn’t demanding; it was a plea, a desperate confession without words. His hand slid to the back of her neck, holding her delicately as if afraid she might break. His other hand rested on her waist, pulling her closer, craving the connection he’d been yearning for.

Emma's mind raced. *What is happening? Why does it feel like everything is falling apart and coming together all at once?* She pressed her palms against his chest, intending to push him away, but the warmth of his skin beneath his shirt made her hesitate.

When she finally gathered the strength, she shoved him back, her breath ragged. Alexander stumbled slightly, catching himself. Tears stung her eyes as she turned away, overwhelmed.

“Emma,” he said softly, stepping closer but giving her space. “Please… don’t run from me.”

She whirled around, anger and confusion battling in her expression. “Why are you doing this, Alexander? You can't just walk in and mess with my life. What about James? Did you....

He cut her off, his voice filled with emotion. “James James James,....he isn’t who you think he is.”

Alexander took her hands in his, slowly, her breathing hitched as his forehead rested against hers. He closed his eyes, as if the nearness of her was both a relief and torture. “I want to protect you. I can't see you hurt, not again. You're too important to me—more than you can imagine. I... I love you, Emma.”

Emma’s heart clenched at his words, the rawness in his voice shaking her. She looked into his eyes, searching for lies, but all she found was a man desperately trying to hold onto something he feared losing.

She shook her head, her voice barely a whisper. “Why...?

He exhaled, his expression pained. “Because I was afraid. Afraid you’d see me for what I am… and leave.”

Tears spilled down her cheeks. “I tried to forget you,” she whispered. “I really did…”

“I know,” he whispered back, brushing his thumb along her knuckles.

The intensity of the moment was too much. Emma tore herself away, her breath shaky. “I-I can’t… not right now,” she said, backing toward the washroom.

“Emma, wait—”

She shook her head, overwhelmed, and slipped into the washroom, closing the door behind her.

Alexander stood there in the silence of the room, staring at the closed door. He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling deeply. For a moment, he thought about knocking, but instead, he turned and left, retreating to his room—haunted by the fear that he’d already lost her.