Alpha Professor's Forbidden Affair

HUSBAND

JUNIPER’S POV:

Seeing Larry walk into the store causes my heart to drop for a split second before irritation quickly replaces it as he smiles at me. My hands leave the saucer, which I have initially picked from a table, and I stand straight. Slowly, my brows wrinkle, and I cross my arms.

“This is closing hours, Larry. Sally isn’t around,” I say to him, but he chuckles, walking up to me. The smell hits me hard—a rancid stench of smoke that seems to cling to his skin, and I involuntarily take a deep breath, trying to hold back my disgust.

Larry is a creep in his early thirties who knows my mother, and ever since my dad died and we went broke, he has vowed that he would be the one to marry me. Cillian has beaten him up once or twice, but it never seems to deter him.

He ignores my words and strides over to a seat, pulling it out with a scrape, before slumping down casually as if he owns the place.

“I met Sally earlier today,” he says, crossing his legs and flashing me a mocking grin. “She told me you’re working here again, which can only mean one thing.” He leans forward slightly, his eyes gleaming with malicious delight. “Your little boyfriend who f***s you and pays your bills is gone.”

The words hit me like a slap. Anger surges through me, burning in my chest, and I grit my teeth to hold it back. My breath comes out sharply as I step toward him.

“If you’re here to insult me, Larry, then leave, because—”

“What?” he snaps, grabbing my arm roughly and rising from his chair in one swift motion. “I gave you an excellent offer, Juniper. Marry me, and I’ll give you everything I have. But no, you had to turn me down for that little boy. And now, where is he? He’s dumped you, hasn’t he?” He grins wider, his yellowed teeth glinting as he inches closer.

His stench fills the space between us, and I turn my head away, disgust curling in my stomach.

Before I can pull away, he wraps his arm around my waist, yanking me toward him with a force that makes my breath hitch. I struggle, trying to break free, but his grip tightens as he leans in, his face far too close. I place my hands on his face, struggling to push him away.

“You don’t look damaged from the outside,” he sneers. “I’ll offer you twice what I offered before. A body like yours will bear many children, and—”

“You really should leave her alone.”

The sound of Hiram’s voice from behind us sends a wave of relief crashing over me. A tear slips from the corner of my eye as I realize I’m no longer alone. Why did he take so long?

Larry jerks his head up, releasing me from his hold. “And who the hell are you?” he growls, his bravado faltering slightly.

I turn, and there’s Hiram, casually leaning against the counter with his hands tucked into his pockets, his face lowered. He looks calm—too calm.

“Her husband,” Hiram says without looking up. “And the man who’s going to beat you the f**k up, making you wish you walked away right now.”

I glance at Larry, who swallows hard and loosens his grip completely.

“And you are still here.” Hiram raises his head, giving Larry a cold and lethal gaze.

“I... I didn’t know she was married,” he stammers as he backs away from me with his arms in the air, and soon he is gone, leaving Hiram and me in the room.

He keeps his gaze on me for a split second, and I look away, walking to a table to clear it, but soon I feel him behind me. The moment I turn around with the saucer, he grabs it from me.

“Are you okay?” His voice is low.

I try to speak, but the words stick in my throat, with tears still burning behind my eyes. I nod, even though deep down, everything is going wrong. The week hasn’t ended, and I have been harassed a lot.

“Your face says otherwise.” His words are soft, causing me to look him in the eyes.

He watches me with intent, like he can see past the thin layer of control I’m trying to hold on to.

“I have classes tomorrow,” I mutter, forcing the words out. “Please, just give me the saucer. I need to finish and go home.”

But he doesn’t hand it over. Instead, he leans in closer, brushing under my eye with his thumb. “There are tears under your eyes, Juniper. You’re not okay,” he says, glancing between his thumb and me.

“Sit down.”

His voice is commanding in a manner that I do not like.

“You have no control over me, and thank you for saving me with the husband talk. I don’t need—” He doesn’t let me finish.

“I wasn’t asking, and who says it was just ‘talk.’”

“What?” I ask, but he ignores me.

He grabs my wrist—not rough, but with enough strength to make it clear he’s not letting this go. He pulls me toward a chair, placing me down as if I weigh nothing.

He draws off the gloves from my hands, his touch lingering a second too long. Then he tries to fit his huge hands into them, and when it doesn’t work, he tosses them on the table, leaving with the plates. He strides to the sink behind the counter, rolling up his sleeves with ease while I watch him with no pure thoughts in mind.

My eyes are drawn to the way his muscles flex as he moves.

But what if we are married? Will he help this way? And Lord, will I give anything to see his face daily.

Juniper, it’s just dishes! I say to myself, trying to snap out of what he is doing to me.

Shortly, he glances at me, and I throw my face away with my cheeks burning as I wonder if he caught me staring. I can swear he’s doing it on purpose.

Finally, he is done, and he rolls down his sleeves. I take out my phone at once, pretending I’m looking at something as he walks up to me.

“Done,” he says, and I look up, forcing a smile onto my face as I mouth a “Thank you.”

“You haven’t had anything to eat since you walked in here, so what are you going to do about dinner?” When he asks, I get up from the seat.

“I’ll probably cook something light when I get home.” I try to walk to the counter to grab my stuff, but he grabs my hand. “You have to stop doing that!” I warn him sternly.

He lets go of me.

“You have school tomorrow, and you are probably tired. How about I take care of your dinner, and…”

I cut him off.

“You threw me out of your place twice, so do not even think of that.”

“I am sorry about that,” he replies, and I shake my head.

“I won’t be going to your place, and that’s…”

“How about we go to your place,” he cuts me off, and I stare at him with words in my throat, unable to leave. “Please. I’ll buy dinner for two. Let this be my form of apology, please,” he says, and I shut my mouth.

This is about to be a recipe for disaster...