Please Harder, Professor

Chapter 62

Cassian’s POV

My rage propels me through the university corridors like a man possessed, each step echoing off polished floors with the force of my fury. Students and faculty scatter from my path, probably sensing the violence radiating from every pore.

The familiar hallways that usually feel like home now seem like a maze designed to keep me from my destination, from the confrontation that's been building since the moment Sophie collapsed in that bathroom.

The word "mistake" still tastes bitter on my tongue, but it's nothing compared to the inferno burning in my chest.

How dare Adrian Lewis reduce Sophie's pregnancy to something so callous, so disposable? How dare he plant his seed in her and remain blissfully ignorant while she suffers through morning sickness alone?

Adrian Lewis had knocked up Sophie and would inevitably abandon her, just like he'd abandoned every other woman who'd made the fatal error of trusting him with their hearts.

The pattern was so predictable it made me sick—the seduction, the psychological games, the careful cultivation of dependency, followed by the inevitable discard when things became too real, too demanding of actual emotion.

But not this time. This time, I'd make sure Sophie saw him for what he really was before he could destroy her completely.

I find Lisette in her office, grading papers with the kind of manic precision that speaks to barely controlled obsession. Red ink bleeds across student essays like wounds, her corrections more savage than educational.

The blinds are drawn tight against the afternoon sun, casting everything in an artificial twilight that seems to suit her current mental state.

She looks up when I slam through her door without knocking, and her eyes immediately glitter with anticipation. There's something fevered about her expression, something that suggests she's been waiting for this moment.

"Cassian," she’s setting down her pen with deliberate care. "You look positively murderous. How delightful. I was just thinking about our dear Adrian and wondering when you'd finally stop being so civilized about this whole situation..."

"Do it," I say without preamble, my voice rough with barely contained fury. "Whatever you're planning for Adrian—do it now."

A flicker of surprise runs through her face. Then her smile spreads slowly, like poison seeping through clean water. "Finally ready to stop playing nice with your cousin's feelings? What's changed? You seemed so hesitant before."

"Sophie's pregnant," I say, the words feeling like shards of glass in my throat. "It's his."

The transformation in Lisette's face is immediate and terrifying. She goes perfectly still, every muscle in her body tensing like a predator preparing to strike.

I watch something dark and terrible flicker across her features, and for a moment she looks genuinely unhinged, like she might grab the letter opener from her desk and use it on someone.

"Pregnant," she repeats, voice flat with disbelief. "He got that little girl pregnant and he doesn't even know, does he?"

"No. But when he finds out, he'll run. You know he will. He'll abandon her just like he abandoned you, just like he's abandoned everyone who's ever tried to get close to him."

"Oh, he'll abandon her alright," Lisette says, her voice taking on a sing-song quality that makes my skin crawl. "But not before I make sure he suffers for it. Not before he understands exactly what it feels like to lose everything that matters."

I feel a momentary flicker of unease at the manic gleam in her eyes, but I push it aside. Lisette's instability is a tool I can use, nothing more.

"Just remember what we agreed," I say, though part of me is starting to wonder if she's too far gone to keep any promises. "Sophie stays out of whatever you're planning. She doesn't deserve to be collateral damage in your war with him."

"Of course," Lisette purrs, but there's something in her eyes that makes me question her sincerity. "I always keep my promises. Sophie will be perfectly safe."

***

An hour later, I'm standing on Adrian's doorstep. The rage has crystallized into something colder, more focused.

The house looks pristine, expensive, and utterly soulless. Just like the man who lives inside it.

When Adrian opens the door, my fist connects with his jaw before either of us can speak.

The satisfaction of the impact, the way his head snaps back and blood immediately springs from his split lip, sends a rush of vindictive pleasure through my veins.

"What the fuck?!" Adrian staggers back, touching his mouth and staring at the blood on his fingers.

His storm-gray eyes are blazing with fury, but there's also recognition—he knows exactly why I'm here. "Is my house a public thoroughfare now or what?"

"Stay away from Sophie," I snarl, stepping through his doorway uninvited. The house smells like expensive cologne and fresh coffee, the scents of a man who has everything perfectly controlled.

Adrian's eyes narrow dangerously, storm-gray irises darkening to something approaching black. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me."

I continue, letting all my protective fury spill out in carefully chosen words.

"She deserves better than being your latest psychological experiment. She needs someone who can actually give her real feelings instead of just convenient sex and power games."

Adrian laughs, and the sound is cold and sharp enough to cut. "And you think that's you? The consolation prize professor who got my job when I was forced out?"

The barb hits exactly where he intended, but I push through the sting. "At least I don't collect broken girls and call it education," I fire back. "At least I don't manipulate vulnerable students into thinking submission equals love."

"Is that what you think this is about?"

Adrian's voice carries that controlled intensity I remember from faculty meetings, the kind of quiet authority that made other professors defer to his opinions.

"You think Sophie is some naive victim who needs rescuing from the big bad dominant?"

"If you're so incredible, why isn't she choosing you?" I challenge, knowing this will hit deep. "Why does she keep coming to me instead? Why does she sleep in my bed when she needs comfort?"

Something flickers across Adrian's face—pain, maybe, or recognition of a truth he doesn't want to acknowledge. But when he speaks, his voice remains controlled, clinical even.

"Because you're safe," he says with devastating calm. "Boring. Easy. You don't challenge her, don't push her boundaries, don't make her confront the parts of herself she's afraid to explore. You're filling but ultimately unsatisfying."

The words sting, but I force myself to stay focused on my objective. "Are you willing to give her away so easily then?"

Adrian's pause stretches too long, revealing everything he's trying to hide. I can see the war playing out behind his eyes—possessiveness warring with self-preservation, desire fighting against his pathological need to maintain emotional distance.

When he finally speaks, his voice is flat, empty of the passion I know burns beneath the surface. "Sophie makes her own choices. If she wants safe and boring, that's her decision to make."

"Good," I say, already backing toward the door. "Then we understand each other."

Adrian slams the door without another word, the sound echoing through his empty house like a gunshot.

In my car, I press stop on the recording app on my phone, Adrian's dismissive words captured perfectly in digital clarity. I needed Adrian to show Sophie exactly who he is, and now I have proof she can't ignore or rationalize away.

Sophie would finally see what kind of man she'd been pining for—one who couldn't even fight for her when challenged directly.

The recording would break her heart, but sometimes hearts needed breaking to heal properly.