Professor Alexander Sinclair was the epitome of perfection—wealthy, brilliant, and one of the youngest professors at the university at just 32 years old. With his sharp suits and intimidating presence, he was admired by many but never entertained anyone’s attempts to get close.

Except when it came to you.

“You’re late,” he said without looking up as you slid into your seat.

You smirked. “Miss me, Professor?”

His pen paused for the briefest second before he glanced at you, his gaze sharp yet unreadable. “Hardly.”

But you knew better.

No one else dared to tease him. No one else got those fleeting glances, the subtle pauses in his lectures when your eyes met.

You were the only one who could rattle the untouchable Professor Sinclair.