Mated by Contract to the Alpha (Rebecca and Dominic) novel Chapter 96

Rebecca’s POV

His eyes widened slightly, and for a moment I worried I’d overstepped. Then a genuine laugh escaped him, transforming his austere features into something much more approachable.

“Touché,” he conceded, his eyes never leaving mine. I had the disconcerting feeling he was memorizing my features.

I took a step back, still mortified about his coat but increasingly aware of his magnetic presence. “Please, let me take it and have it cleaned properly. It’s my responsibility.”

He studied me for a moment, eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “Are you asking me for contact information?”

“Yes,” I nodded firmly, my fingers fidgeting with the tissue packet. Td need to know where to return it once it’s

cleaned.”

A slow, somewhat mischievous smile spread across his face. That’s the most creative pickup line I’ve heard in a while. Usually people just ask to borrow my phone or if I know where the nearest coffee shop is.”

“I’m not–1 just want to be responsible! My voice rose slightly, betraying my flustered state.

He chuckled, still watching me with that amused expression as he reached into his inner pocket and extracted a business card. “Room 104 is down this corridor, turn right at the arches, and you’ll see it immediately on your left.” He handed me the card, his fingers brushing against mine briefly. The contact sent a jolt through me that I couldn’t explain. “As for the coat… I look forward to seeing how responsible you can be.”

I accepted the card, glancing down at it briefly before stuffing it into my pocket. ‘Thank you. I really am sorry about

this.”

He nodded, adjusting his coat slightly. “You should hurry. It’s nearly nine.”

With a final apologetic smile, I turned and followed his directions, moving at a near jog. The corridor opened into an arched passage, and just as he’d said, Room 104 was visible on the left. I slowed my pace, taking a deep breath to compose myself before entering.

Just as I reached for the door handle, I remembered the business card in my pocket. Curious about who I’d just drenched, I pulled it out and read:

[Professor Adrian Lane

Department of Design Arts

City Arts Academy]

My stomach dropped violently. I’d just argued with my professor. My professor whose expensive coat I’d ruined

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minutes before his class.

Still processing this horrifying realization, I pushed open the door, wincing as it creaked loudly. Every head turned toward me. I froze, scanning the room quickly for an empty seat, hoping to slip in unnoticed. My legs felt wooden, unwilling to move.

“Ah, our final student has arrived,” came a familiar voice from the front of the room.

I looked up to see the man from the corridor–Professor Lane–walking toward the lectern, his damp coat now removed and draped over his arm. His eyes found mine immediately, a spark of recognition and amusement clearly visible. I felt pinned by his gaze, unable to look away despite the heat spreading across my face.

“Welcome, especially to our ‘responsible‘ student,” he said, his lips quirking upward as several students chuckled, clearly sensing some inside joke they weren’t privy to.

I stood rooted to the spot, mortification washing over me in waves. I wanted to disappear, to melt into the floor tiles, to be anywhere but here. My hands clenched and unclenched at my sides, and I could feel beads of sweat forming on my lower back.

“I… I can explain,” I managed to stammer, my voice barely audible even to my own ears.

Professor Lane waved a dismissive hand, but his eyes remained locked on mine. “No need. Please, take a seat. Today’s first lesson: sometimes accidents are the best source of creative inspiration.”

A few more chuckles rippled through the classroom as I made my way to an empty seat in the back corner, keeping my eyes fixed on the floor. I could feel curious glances from my classmates following me, their whispers barely audible. I slid into the chair, wishing I could make myself invisible as I felt curious glances from my classmates.

For the next hour and a half, I tried to focus on Professor Lane’s introduction to the course and his overview of design fundamentals. Despite my embarrassment, I couldn’t help but notice he was an engaging lecturer, moving with natural confidence through complex concepts, occasionally sketching quick examples on the whiteboard with surprising skill. His hands moved with precise, controlled energy that was somehow mesmerizing.

Every now and then, his gaze would find mine, that same mysterious smile playing at the corners of his mouth. Each time, my breath would catch, and I would quickly look down at my notebook, pretending to be completely absorbed in taking notes. My pen pressed too hard against the paper, nearly tearing it in places.

When the class finally ended, I deliberately took my time gathering my things, waiting for the room to empty. My heart was still racing, stomach in knots. I couldn’t face the humiliation of walking out with everyone else, knowing they were probably wondering about the “responsible student” comment.

Professor Lane remained at the front, organizing his papers and occasionally glancing in my direction. As the last student left, I took a deep breath and approached the lectern, my legs feeling surprisingly steady despite my inner

turmoil.

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12:15 Mon, Sep 22

Chapter 96

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