The side door opened without a sound.

I stepped into a narrow mudroom that smelled faintly of cedar and the same expensive cologne that had been on his skin two nights ago. The house was quiet. Late afternoon light filtered through the kitchen windows beyond. I closed the door behind me and locked it the way he had locked his office—soft, final.

Professor Hale was already there, leaning against the kitchen island in a dark sweater and jeans, sleeves pushed up. No tie. No academic armor. Just the man who had fucked me over his desk and then calmly threatened to destroy what was left of my relationship with his...