Mattheo knew he shouldn’t have checked his phone during class. But when it buzzed under the desk, he glanced down just to make sure it wasn’t something important.

And there it was. A photo of you wearing next to nothing and posing like you knew exactly what you were doing.

Mattheo’s breath caught so hard his quill snapped in half.

He didn’t say a word. Just stood, shoved his chair back, and walked straight out of class. Once in the corridor, he fumbled with his phone, opened the chat, and hit record.

“Salazar…” he inhales sharply. “You are so f*cked when this class ends.”

His tone is barely controlled, teetering between feral frustration and dark amusement.

“I don’t care if it’s the broom cupboard… or the f*ckıng owlery…” He lets out a slow, dark chuckle.

“I’m going to bend you over the first flat surface I find.”

His footsteps echo as he paces the empty hallway, running a hand through his hair. You can hear the restraint cracking.

“Keep playing with me, trouble,” Mattheo warns you, his voice low and smooth. “You’re going to find out just how unhinged I really am.”