Please Harder, Professor

Chapter 178

Adrian’s POV

Lolita's estate was all dramatic stone architecture designed to intimidate. As I pulled up with Sophie and Amelia, I felt Sophie's tension radiating through the car.

"I still don't understand why we're doing this," Sophie said, her voice tight. "A formal dinner at Lolita's house? After everything your mother said about her?"

"Lolita's been helping with some business issues," I said, gripping the steering wheel tighter. “This dinner is just a courtesy."

"Adrian, what's really going on?" Sophie's tone made it clear she didn't believe me.

"I'll explain later, I promise. Just… Please, can we get through tonight?"

She didn't respond, just stared out the window at the imposing mansion growing larger as we approached.

Lolita opened the door before we could knock, immaculate in elegant black. "Adrian, Sophie. And little Amelia—she's grown so much."

"Thank you for having us," Sophie said, her politeness edged with wariness.

"Please, come in." Lolita stepped aside, gesturing us into the cavernous foyer.

The house was exactly as intimidating inside—expensive art everywhere, pieces worth more than most people's houses.

Sophie's eyes widened slightly as she took it all in, and I saw her unconsciously adjust Amelia's carrier, holding our daughter a little closer.

The dining room was enormous, with a table that could seat twenty but was set intimately for just the three of us.

Dinner was an elaborate affair. Lolita played the perfect hostess, making conversation with practiced ease.

"So the wedding planning must be in full swing," Lolita said, sipping her wine. "Have you set a date?"

"Not yet," Sophie answered carefully. "We're still working through logistics."

"And the dress? Have you found one?"

Something flickered across Sophie's face—a shadow I couldn't quite read. "Still looking."

Lolita's eyes sharpened with interest, but she didn't push. Instead, she turned her attention to Amelia, who was starting to fuss in her carrier beside Sophie's chair.

"She's beautiful," Lolita said, and unlike the last time she'd seen Amelia, there was something almost genuine in her tone. "You can see both of you in her features. That's rare, you know."

Sophie relaxed slightly at the compliment, reaching down to soothe Amelia. "She has Adrian's eyes. Everyone says so."

"They're his father's eyes too," Lolita said. "But I'm sure she'll be all the better for having her mother's temperament rather than the Lewis men's tendency toward brooding."

I felt the barb beneath the comment but let it pass. This was Lolita's game—charm and cut in equal measure, keep everyone slightly off-balance.

After dinner, as we moved to the sitting room with coffee, Lolita made her move.

"Sophie, would you mind if I borrowed Adrian? Business matter."

Sophie's expression immediately shuttered. She glanced at me, and I saw the suspicion there, the memory of every other time I'd claimed something was "just business" before hiding the truth from her.

"Of course," Sophie said coolly, settling into an armchair with Amelia. "Take your time."

The walk to Lolita's study felt like a march to execution. When she closed the door behind us, the gracious hostess facade dropped instantly.

"Let's not waste time," Lolita said, moving to the bar and pouring herself a scotch without offering me one. "I have news about your blackmail situation."

"What did you find?"

"I've traced the operation definitively to Lisette's lawyer—a man named Finn Brennan. He's been coordinating everything from outside the institution. Lisette may be locked up, but she's still very much in the game."

My hands clenched into fists. "I can’t believe it..."

“There's more."

Lolita took a sip of her drink.

"Lisette has been writing detailed letters about your relationship with Sophie. Very detailed. Claims of psychological abuse, coercion, grooming from the very beginning. She's painting herself as the only person who tried to save Sophie from your predatory manipulation."

Ice ran through my veins. "That's insane. I never groomed her."

"Lisette's letters are compelling, Adrian. And Brennan has been shopping them to journalists, looking for the highest bidder."

"Fuck." I sank into one of the leather chairs, head in my hands. "How many journalists?"

"At least a dozen. Some reputable, some tabloid. All interested." Lolita perched on the edge of her desk, watching me with clinical interest. "I've been intercepting and buying them as they come up, but it's expensive. And endless."

"So what are you suggesting?”

Lolita's voice took on a harder edge. “We make her letters legally worthless by having her declared incompetent to testify or provide reliable witness statements. If she's officially deemed delusional, anything she writes becomes inadmissible."

I looked up at her. "Can you actually do that?"

"I have contacts who can ensure it happens. Psychiatric evaluations can be... influenced, if you know the right people." Her smile was sharp.

My conscience warred with my desperation. What Lolita was suggesting was wrong—manipulating legal and medical systems to silence someone, even someone as unstable as Lisette.

But the alternative was letting those letters surface, letting journalists tear apart my relationship with Sophie, dragging her through another scandal just as we were trying to rebuild.

"What's your price?" I asked, because Lolita never did anything without extracting payment.

Her smile widened. "Just remember who protected your family when it mattered. Debts aren't always financial, Adrian."

I understood immediately. She was binding me tighter to her web, creating an obligation that would last years. Whenever Lolita needed something—a favor, information, access—I'd owe her.

She was positioning herself as our family's protector, which meant she'd always have leverage over us.

But what choice did I have? Let Lisette's lies destroy everything Sophie and I were building? Let our daughter grow up under the shadow of those accusations?

"Do it," I said quietly. "Handle it however you need to."

Lolita's expression was triumphant. "Wise choice. I'll have everything arranged within the week."

We returned to the sitting room, where Sophie was rocking Amelia gently. She looked up as we entered, and I saw her eyes sweep over both of us, analyzing, reading the shift in energy.

"Everything okay?" she asked carefully.

"Fine," I said, forcing a smile. "Just business."

Sophie's eyes narrowed. She didn't believe me—I could see it in the way her jaw tightened, in the way she stood and gathered Amelia with deliberate movements.

"We should probably get going," Sophie said, her tone polite but cold. "It's getting late."

"Of course," Lolita agreed smoothly. "Thank you both for coming. We should do this again soon."

The drive home was quieter than I expected. Amelia slept peacefully in her car seat, and Sophie seemed lost in her own thoughts, staring out the window at the passing streetlights.

After ten minutes, I said, "Can I hold her when we get home? Amelia? I didn't get much time with her today."

Something in Sophie's expression softened. "Of course. She'd like that. You know she always settles better for you at night anyway."

"Does she?" I couldn't help the small smile that tugged at my lips.

"Don't let it go to your head," Sophie said, but there was warmth in her voice now, the tension from earlier easing slightly. "She probably just likes your heartbeat. Babies are drawn to deeper voices and lower frequencies."

"Or maybe she just loves her dad," I countered.

"Maybe that too."

We lapsed back into silence, but it felt different now—less charged, more comfortable. When we pulled into the parking garage, Sophie carefully extracted Amelia from her car seat while I grabbed the diaper bag.

Inside the apartment, I took Amelia from Sophie's arms, cradling our daughter against my chest. She stirred slightly but didn't wake, just made a small sound and nestled closer.

"I'll get her pajamas ready," Sophie said softly, heading toward the nursery.

I stood in the living room, gently rocking Amelia, breathing in that baby smell that was somehow both sweet and slightly sour.

My daughter. I'd just made another deal to protect her, bound myself further to Lolita's web.

I just hoped Sophie would forgive me when she eventually found out.