Evelyn stood in front of the bathroom sink, glaring at her reflection as she wrung out her coffee-soaked shirt. Cold water dripped down her arms. "That arrogant bastard," she muttered under her breath, scrubbing harder at the stubborn brown stain.
Her phone buzzed on the marble counter. Jane's name lit up the screen.
"Thank God," Evelyn breathed, answering immediately. "Jane, you won't believe what just happened. Some idiot—"
"Celebration time!" Jane cut in, voice bright with victory. "The interview went amazingly. They practically loved me. Where are you? I'm coming to get you so we can get out of here and eat something expensive."
Evelyn glanced down at her ruined shirt. "I'm in the bathroom on the fifteenth floor. Some guy spilled coffee all over me in the elevator. I'm trying to wash it out, but it's hopeless."
Jane laughed. "Only you. Stay put. I'll bring you one of my spares from the car. Five minutes."
"Make it three," Evelyn said, then ended the call.
She peeled off the wet shirt completely, leaving her in just her pale pink lace bra and jeans. The cool air of the bathroom brushed over her skin. She looked at herself in the mirror for a moment, turning slightly, then shook her head and went back to rinsing the garment.
That was when she felt it.
A presence.
The hair on the back of her neck rose. In the mirror, something moved—fast and dark—slipping behind the row of toilet stalls. Evelyn froze, water still running over her hands.
"Who's there?" Her voice came out smaller than she intended.
No answer.
One of the lights above the far stall began to flicker. Then another. A soft scrape echoed from inside the closed door, like a shoe shifting on tile.
Evelyn's pulse spiked. She grabbed her damp shirt and backed away. "This isn't funny."
She took one cautious step toward the stall, then another. From the gap beneath the door, she could see the shadow of two feet. Still. Too still.
Her fingers trembled as she reached for the handle. She yanked the door open in one sharp motion and jumped back.
Nothing.
The stall was empty.
Evelyn's breath came fast and shallow. "I'm losing it," she whispered. "I'm actually losing it."
The flickering stopped. The bathroom fell silent again, but the uneasy feeling clung to her like static. She couldn't stay here another second. Clutching the wet shirt in her fist, she bolted for the door and shoved it open, heart hammering.
She didn't realize she'd left without putting the shirt back on.
Bare skin, pink lace bra, and jeans—she ran down the quiet employee corridor, footsteps echoing behind her. Or maybe those were someone else's footsteps. She didn't dare look back. Panic blurred everything except the need to get away.
A hand suddenly clamped onto her shoulder and pulled her sideways into a recessed alcove. Her back hit the wall with a soft thud.
"Let me go!" Evelyn cried, swinging blindly.
Her fist connected solidly with a jaw.
"Fuck—"
The familiar voice made her freeze. She looked up.
Professor Ryan stood inches away, one hand still gripping her waist, the other rubbing his jaw where her punch had landed. His eyes—those sharp, piercing eyes—widened when they dropped to her. To the delicate lace barely covering her breasts, the smooth curve of her waist under his fingers, the rapid rise and fall of her chest.
For a split second, raw hunger flashed across his face before he locked it down hard. His jaw tightened. He forced his gaze up to her face, but it was a struggle. His fingers flexed against her bare skin like he couldn't quite make them let go.
"Evelyn," he said, voice low and rough. "What the hell are you doing?"
"I—I thought someone was following me," she stammered, suddenly painfully aware of how little she was wearing. "In the bathroom… there was someone, or I thought—God, I'm sorry about your face."
Two men in suits rounded the corner, deep in conversation, and stopped dead at the sight of her. Their eyes raked over her exposed skin.
Ryan's entire body went rigid. That possessive edge she'd glimpsed before surged forward. He stepped closer, shielding her completely with his frame, his hand sliding further around her waist, warm palm pressed to her cool skin. The contact sent an unwanted spark through both of them.
"Get out of here," Ryan snarled at the men, voice like steel. "Now."
They muttered apologies and disappeared quickly.
Evelyn's breath trembled. "Professor—"
"Don't." His voice was strained. He looked down at her again, fighting it, but his eyes lingered on the lace, on the soft swell of her breasts, before he tore them away with visible effort. "Why are you half-naked in a building?"
"I was changing—my shirt was ruined—and then I panicked and—" She glanced down at herself and let out a mortified sound, crossing her arms over her chest. "I didn't realize."
Ryan exhaled sharply through his nose. He shrugged off his tailored coat and draped it around her shoulders, pulling it closed in front. His fingers brushed the tops of her breasts as he did, and he went very still, throat working.
The coat smelled like him. Like fresh clean plants. Unlike the man in the elevator who was nothing short of coldness and aloof.
Evelyn clutched it tightly, cheeks burning, but she couldn't stop the way her body reacted to his closeness, to the way he was looking at her—like he wanted to devour her and punish her for making him feel that way all at once.
Jane's voice suddenly rang out from down the hall. "Evelyn?"
Jane rounded the corner and stopped short, eyes widening at the sight of her best friend wrapped in Professor Ryan's coat, his hand still resting possessively on her covered waist.
"Oh my God," Jane said, lips twitching between shock and amusement. She quickly walked over and took Evelyn's arm. "Thank you for… helping her, Professor. Again."
Ryan didn't reply. His eyes stayed on Evelyn, dark with frustration and something far more dangerous.
Jane tugged her friend away gently but firmly. "Come on. Let's get you properly dressed before you cause an international incident."
As Jane pulled her down the corridor, Evelyn glanced back once. Ryan stood there watching them, hands now clenched at his sides, the muscle in his jaw tight.