Londyn Falls Page 5

  Madeline jumps up and claps her hands. “I’ll be good. I’ll throw something on straight away.” She’s already out my bedroom door before I have a chance to respond.

  “Don’t make me late,” I call out behind her. “I’m leaving in ten minutes.” I know it doesn’t matter. She gets ready faster than any girl I’ve ever known. I slip into my shoes and glance at my reflection. I look pretty smart I think. Walking out in the living room, I open the blinds and let the summer sunshine in the room. I pour myself a quick glass of orange juice whilst waiting for Madeline. Moments later, she bounces into the room again, wearing a black jersey dress and flip flops. The dress is skin tight and I just shake my head at the girl’s confidence. She’ll be the first to admit she could stand to lose a good twenty pounds, but it doesn’t stop her from showing off her sex appeal. It doesn’t seem to get in the way of her snagging any man she fancies, either.

  “Shall we go? I’ll put on my makeup on the train,” Madeline says, grabbing her purse. “You should bring an extra pair of shoes. Those are great, but what if you have to walk a lot? You never wear heels.”

  “Good point,” I say and quickly grab a pair of flats that I throw in my messenger bag. “Let’s go.”

  We rush down to the lobby and out the door, walking quickly to the T stop. As we cross the street, my shoe catches in a cobblestone, causing me to lose my footing and trip, scraping my knee. Thankfully, there isn’t much traffic on this little side street. I pull me and my wounded pride off the pavement and look back at my shoe. Madeline pulls it from it position between two stones and I stare in horror at the broken heel hanging tragically from the main shoe.

  Madeline catches up to me and states, “Glad you brought an extra pair of shoes, now aren’t ya?”

  “Yeah,” I snatch the shoe and hobble the rest of the way to the station. Leaning against the stairwell before we descend, I slip into the tan ballet flats I brought and toss the now offensive heels in my bag. I wipe my scraped knee with my hand and continue on. Damn my clumsiness.

  Madeleine talks nonstop, mostly about my brother, as she applies her makeup. I do my best to listen, but my thoughts are centered on my new job and managing the professor’s well known mood swings.

  “Does he ever say anything about me?” Madeleine asks.

  “Who?” I ask, absentmindedly.

  “Who? Devon!”

  “Oh yeah, he talks about you. He thinks you’re smart and funny.”

  “Does he think I’m sexy?” she asks, blowing kisses at herself in the compact mirror she holds.

  “I’m afraid I wouldn’t know.”

  “You need to find out.”

  “Why don’t you just ask him out? You’re a modern woman, Maddie.”

  “I don’t like to pursue men, you know that. If he’s interested then he should come after me.”

  “There are a hundred reasons why he probably won’t.”

  “Name three!” Madeleine exclaims, before crossing her arms over her chest.

  “Number one. I’m his baby sister. Number two. You are his baby sister’s best friend. Number three. He works too much for romance. There.”

  “Humph.” Madeleine pouts and looks out the window. She’s silent for approximately three minutes before she speaks again. “Are you nervous?”

  “Terribly.”

  Madeleine takes my hand in hers and threads her fingers through mine. “Don’t be. You are absolutely brill. He will love you.”

  “I doubt the professor loves anyone.”

  “Is he ugly and old?”

  I glance outside for a moment as I consider her question. “He is neither ugly nor old.”

  “Is he hot?”

  “I wouldn’t call him that either.”

  “Well, what would you call him?”

  “He’s attractive enough, I suppose.”

  “Attractive enough means he’s ugly and old.” Madeleine laughs at her own comment.

  “If you say so. I’m not remotely focused on his appearance. He is a demanding man and I just need to make it through a term with him.”

  “You will. You’ll be the best thing that ever happened to him.”

  “I do love your confidence in me.”

  “Maybe someday it will rub off on you.” She smiles and plants a sisterly kiss on my cheek.

  Maybe someday. I smile back at my friend as the train arrives at our stop. Stepping out, we walk toward Harvard Yard.

  “Madeleine, stay out of trouble today. I mean it. Don’t bother Devon. He said he would phone if he can make lunch. Why don’t you find a nice spot near a tree and read your book?”

  “Don’t worry,” Madeleine says. “I won’t embarrass you.”

  “I’ll message you later when I have a break.”

  “K!” She giggles and scampers off as I turn and walk bravely to Boylston Hall. Oh, what I wouldn’t give to have Madeleine’s joy for life.

  Looking down at my watch, I note the time. It’s only 7:39. I’m more than early and I hope I meet the professor’s expectations. I hurry to his office and only then wonder just exactly where my desk will be. The hall leading to the professor’s office is dark; it’s clear no one is in the building yet. I walk softly, my ballet flats making no sound as I make my way. My stomach flutters and my palms feel sweaty. Lovely.

  As I approach, I hear the serene sounds of classical music drifting from the door to his office, just barely ajar. I close my eyes for a moment and absorb the notes wafting through the storied university halls.

  I stand just outside the door, listening to a deep, masculine voice singing. I love the sound of it, and I’m aware that it’s opera, but I wouldn’t know which one. I peek inside the door, hoping not to startle the professor. The sight that greets me causes me to freeze in my tracks. Sitting in his imposing leather chair, Professor Di Roma appears to be staring off into space with the saddest, most heartbreaking look on his face. From this vantage point, I can tell that he loves this song and it takes him to a place far away from here.

  I don’t know if I should interrupt. I don’t want to be late, but something inside me simply finds it difficult to break this moment for him. I see him shift slightly in his chair and I quickly move away from the door, leaning my back against the wall beside it. I close my eyes again and listen to this amazing song, the name of which I suddenly really want to know. In my many years of academia, I successfully avoided any opera education, assuming I would find it boring. My grandfather loved it and tried to get me to listen with him, but I could never find an interest in it. But this song, this lovely, haunting song playing from the professor’s office is seducing me.

  As the song finishes, a feeling washes over me that I’m not alone. I open my eyes slowly and standing in front of me is Professor Di Roma. His expression, or I should say lack of one, confounds me. His passive eyes hold my gaze, but reveal nothing of his thoughts. His lips seem to be on the edge of words, but remain speechless. I feel my cheeks blush once more.

  “Good morning, Miss Harper,” he finally says, breaking the silence between us. “Were you planning to join me today or do you already have cold feet?” The professor’s tone reveals his amusement with me.

  “I was early and I didn’t know if I should just come in,” I reply, so softly it irritates me.

  “I’m impressed,” he says looking down at his watch. “I thought for sure you would be late. I imagine you frequently are.”

  I shake my head. “I’m usually close, but I make it. You said you wanted me here early, so here I am.”

  He smiles and that throws me off even more. Professor Di Roma seems like a man who rarely smiles, much less with such a kind one. “I’m glad to hear you take direction well. Come in and we’ll get you set up.” He turns and walks back inside the office, leaving me momentarily stalled. His demeanor is oddly soft compared to the man I met on Friday. Maybe music really does calm the savage beast. I hurry myself in before he can notice I wasn’t right behind him.

  He motions to a smal
l desk in the back of the office. “That will be your desk for now. The office you would normally be in had a radiator burst and is under repair. You may be in here for a few weeks.”

  I look over at my area and frown just a bit. It faces the window that looks upon the lovely courtyard, but it also faces the professor’s desk. It strikes me as odd that he would want to share his space with anyone at all.

  “You can sit,” he says.

  I walk over to my desk, slide into the seat, and find that it’s quite comfortable. I don’t remember it being here when I interviewed, but then again, I don’t remember much from that day except how intimidated I was. I run my hand over the wood desk and open a few drawers. Inside one of them, I find a notebook and a few pens. Opening my messenger bag, I take out my favorite pencil, my Chap Stick, and my precious boodle. It’s old and ratted, bound in worn leather and tied closed with a dark purple ribbon. I take it everywhere I go as I never know when something will strike my fancy and I must write it down.

  I finally look up, satisfied with my little desk set up. Professor Di Roma is seated at his desk, his eyes locked on me. I feel embarrassed when I realize he’s been watching me the entire time. “I’m sorry, Professor,” I mutter.

  “Why are you sorry?” he asks.

  I shrug. “I should probably be focused on what you need right now.”

  “Plenty of time for that. I’ll have a few things for you to read through this morning. We have quite a bit to do before the students start to arrive.”

  I nod and wonder what I should do whilst I wait for my reading material. “Professor?”

  “Yes?”

  “What was the song that you were listening to this morning?”

  The expression on his face changes quickly from neutral to sad and I watch as his eyes glance out the window before shifting back to mine. “I take it you’re not familiar with opera?”

  I shake my head. All of a sudden, I really wish I were, as I don’t wish to disappoint him.

  “Nessun Dorma. That particular version was by Luciano Pavarotti. It’s an aria from Turandot.” He smiles softly then looks up at me again. “Did you like it?”

  “Very much. It was quite moving,” I say, and I mean it.

  “Yes, moving,” he repeats quietly. “I must say it’s surprising, almost shocking, that you are not familiar with opera. You have a degree in Italian studies, no?”

  “I do,” I say, shyly. “It was an elective class, but I focused on other things instead.”

  “Why?” he asks.

  “I assumed I wouldn’t like it.”

  “But you did.”

  “I liked that song, yes.”

  “Do you always make such assumptions?”

  “I, um, well…”

  “For a woman as highly educated as you are, I find it remarkable that you can’t seem to articulate your thoughts.”

  “I can. It’s just that…” I pause, unsure of what to say.

  “It’s just what, Miss Harper?”

  I glance up at him and quickly look away as the professor’s gaze burrows through me. He’s got me all tongue tied now and I don’t know what to say.

  “Miss Harper?”

  “Yes, sir?”

  The professor sighs and leans back in his chair. “I can’t have you cowering in the corner like a frightened mouse. You need to speak up and say what you mean. Do you have an assertive bone in your body?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, use it.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Stop calling me that.”

  “What shall I call you then?”

  Every ounce of the minimal confidence I have left in me slithers away as I watch the professor rise from his chair and walk towards me. I do my absolute best to stay put and not run from the room like I want to. Placing both hands on either side of my desk, he leans close to me, staring into my eyes, daring me to flinch.

  “You may call me Professor.”

  His tone causes a strange sensation in me. One I wasn’t expecting. It’s not fear, for once, but something more…primal.

  “Yes, Professor,” I barely whisper.

  A knock on the door startles both of us. The professor stands and turns before barking out a brief, ‘come in.’

  The door opens and a man enters. He is so good looking that I damn near fall out of my chair. Good heavens, I can’t believe all that male beauty is assigned to one person.

  “Hey, Luca,” the man says, his voice deep and sexy. I try to tear my eyes off him, but I simply cannot.

  “Nico,” the professor says, his tone aloof and cautious. “What brings you by?”

  “You know I like to stop by when I’m in the neighborhood. Whether you like it or not.” The man smiles, his beautiful white teeth lighting up his face. He looks like a magnificent moving piece of art. Suddenly he turns towards me and flashes that smile in my direction, melting my insides instantly. “Who is this charming creature?”

  The professor moves between us, which I find oddly possessive. There is a palpable tension in the room that piques my curiosity. I silently curse the professor for blocking my view of the glorious man before me. He called me charming!

  “She is my new assistant,” the professor replies.

  “Well, aren’t you going to introduce us?” the man named Nico asks.

  “No.”

  I resist the urge to jump up from my seat and thrust my hand out just for the sheer joy of feeling his skin touch mine, even if it is just my hand.

  Nico laughs, throwing his head back. My eyes focus on the curvature of his neck and glide down to admire his physique. Muscular arms bulge from the loose white t-shirt he wears, hanging perfectly on his frame. Faded and torn jeans wrap his lower body and fit him so well he really should never wear anything else. His black hair is short and spiky on top, worn in that messy way that is popular these days. He has several black and silver bracelets on his left wrist and a big, platinum cross around his neck. He looks like he could be a rock star or an actor. His look is casual but sexy and it’s obvious it takes a lot of work to look that good. I’m instantly enthralled by him.

  “That’s too bad,” Nico says, containing his laughter. “Hope you don’t scare this one off like you do all the others.”

  “What do you want, Nico?” the professor asks again.

  “Nothing,” Nico replies, holding his hands in the air. “I’m working here in Cambridge today and thought we could grab a pizza or something when you get off.”

  My eyes shift to the professor’s face. His expression is tense, but there is definitely emotion there. This person means a lot to him. I can tell.

  Watching this scene before me, I conjure up a theory. This man must be the professor’s lover and he’s angry he showed up at work. Yes, that must be it. It saddens me that this beautiful man before me is gay but, alas, it’s not the first time my hopes were crushed. Besides, it’s not like I would have a chance with him anyway.

  “I don’t know when I’ll be off tonight,” the professor says. “I have a lot of work to do.”

  “I can hang out for a while. It’s been a long time, Luca.”

  The professor turns back to me and I quickly look away and try to act interested in the books on the nearby shelf. If I had a man that looked like that asking me for a pizza, I would definitely go.

  “Alright,” the professor relents. “I’ll meet you at Mario’s at six.”

  “Great!” Nico smiles again. “Why don’t you bring your new assistant?”

  My heart races at the mere thought of eating dinner with Nico. It would be nice to stare at him just a little longer, even if he is more interested in my demanding boss than me. Although I’m quite positive I wouldn’t be able to eat a bite in front of him.

  “I’m sure she has more interesting plans,” the professor replies. His delivery of the words makes it clear that he does not want me to join them.

  “Do you?” Nico asks me directly, peering around Luca’s imposing frame.

&
nbsp; “Um, er, well…”

  The professor looks back at me and narrows his eyes. “Can you complete one lucid thought today, Miss Harper?”

  I straighten myself up and clear my throat. “I’m afraid I can’t tonight. My bestie is waiting for me.”

  “Bring her too then,” Nico suggests.

  I see Luca’s jaw tighten and twitch as Nico’s invite lingers in the air between us.

  “I wish we could, but we’ve made other plans,” I say, noticing the professor’s shoulders relax.

  “Some other time then,” Nico responds, damn near melting the panties right off me with his velvety tone. He sure doesn’t seem gay.

  “Some other time,” the professor repeats.

  “See you at six,” Nico says to the professor before disappearing through the doorway.

  I realize I must be staring in the direction where he was since the professor is still looming over me. I quickly look back at my things, praying I find something there to distract me.

  “Sorry for the interruption. Nico often stops by unannounced.”

  “Why?”

  “He has found it to be the most effective way to get my attention.”

  “He seems like a nice man.”

  “He is nice. We just have a history. It’s difficult and nothing you need to concern yourself with. Shall we get to work?”

  “Certainly.”

  DAMN! I HATE IT when he shows up without warning. I haven’t seen or talked to Nico in months and he just strolls into my office like we’re the best of friends. Then asking Londyn to join us? The nerve!

  I know from her expression she very much wanted to go, but thankfully, she declined. I am not ready to integrate my work life with my personal one. Bad enough she got here so early. I was still listening to that song. I thought I had at least twenty minutes of solitude. I shouldn’t listen to such sad music, but I almost feel like I have to. It was, after all, our routine.

  I busy myself with the piles of paperwork that must be done by the end of this week, trying to distract myself from the fact that I agreed to dinner with Nico. I know how much he wants to be close to me, but I find it so difficult. After everything that happened between us, I honestly don’t know how he can even stand to look at me. Yet he persists.