Chapter 68: The Urge to Submit

Chapter 68: Chapter 68: The Urge to Submit

Iris didn’t answer him. She couldn’t.

Jason stood only a few feet away, his chest rising and falling in heavy, ragged heaves. He stared at her with an intensity that made the air feel thick, and there was a glimmer in his eyes that made her fingers tighten around the strap of her bag.

For several seconds, the silence of the corridor stretched between them. The uneasiness that had settled in her stomach during the meeting with Alexander began to climb, a cold knot tightening in her throat.

What was he doing here? She had been so wrapped up in the whirlwind of Alexander’s office—the tension, the secrets, the sheer gravity of the man—that the promise she’d made Jason that morning had slipped into the periphery of her mind.

She had told him she would speak to him after her lecture, but that had been hours ago. The sun had already dipped below the horizon, leaving the hallway in a dim, sterile glow.

The thought that he had been waiting for her all this time should have sparked a flicker of guilt. Instead, it only made her skin prickle.

Jason took another step toward her, his gaze scanning her face as if searching for a lie. "I asked you a question, Iris. What exactly is so important that you’ve been locked inside that office for hours?"

His voice was low, but there was a vibration beneath it, a primal resonance that made the fine hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

Iris straightened her spine, refusing to shrink. "What I was doing in there is none of your business, Jason. Not anymore."

His jaw tightened, a muscle leaping in his cheek.

"You don’t have the right to question me," she continued, her voice gaining strength before he could interrupt. "I told you that we’re over. I’ve said it clearly, and I’ve said it more than once. I need you to start respecting that boundary."

Jason’s brows lowered, his expression flickering between confusion and disbelief. "What are you talking about? Respecting what?"

"You heard me." She lifted her chin, though her heart was drumming against her ribs. "You don’t get to demand an itinerary of my day or a list of who I spend my time with. That privilege ended the moment you decided our relationship was optional."

Jason let out a short, humorless laugh. "Hah. Ha!"

He stepped closer, invading her personal space until she could smell the sharp, metallic scent of his anger. Iris instinctively retreated, her heels clicking against the linoleum.

"You’re still my girlfriend, Iris," he said, his voice dropping to a possessive murmur. "You can keep playing this game of ’we’re over’ if it makes you feel empowered, but it doesn’t change the reality of what we are."

Iris stared at him, her mouth parting in genuine shock. "What we are? You actually believe that?" Her voice rose, echoing through the empty hall. "You cheated on me, Jason."

"And I’ve already explained the circumstances—"

"I don’t care about the circumstances!" she snapped, her voice cracking. "You don’t get to humiliate me, you don’t get to sleep with my best friend, and then you don’t get to decide we’re still together just because you don’t like the fact that I walked away. You don’t own me."

Jason’s expression hardened, his eyes darkening. "You’re missing the point. And you’re avoiding my question. You’ve been inside that office for five hours." He paused, his eyes narrowing into slits. "Five fucking hours, Iris. Do you really expect me to believe that was a simple academic consultation?"

She swallowed hard. "And if it wasn’t? What of it?"

"And don’t insult my intelligence by pretending you don’t know exactly what that implies," he spat.

Iris’s brows pulled together. "You don’t know a single thing about what happened in there."

"Then tell me. Right now."

"No. Because it’s none of your fucking business." The words left her mouth with a sharpness that surprised her.

Jason’s face twisted. "No?"

"No." Iris held her ground. "I don’t owe you an explanation about where I go, who I speak to, or how long I spend with them. You traded that right for someone else’s bed."

Jason stepped forward again, his movement sudden and aggressive. Iris retreated until her back struck the wall with a dull ..thud... The impact forced a gasp from her lungs.

She immediately raised both hands between them, palms out. "Stay away from me, Jason."

Jason stopped inches away, his breathing now a heavy, rhythmic sound. "You expect me to stand here calmly while you spend half the day locked inside another man’s office? In private?"

"He’s my professor," she countered.

"He’s a man, Iris. A man with a lot of money and a lot of power."

"So?"

Jason’s nostrils flared. "So don’t stand there and pretend you don’t understand the dynamic at play here. I know how this works."

Iris looked at him—really looked at him—and a realization dawned. "Oh my god. I understand perfectly now. You’re jealous."

His eyes flashed, a momentary spark of gold appearing in the iris. "Of him?"

"Yes."

"Why would I be jealous of some corporate suit playing professor to feel important?"

"Because you’re standing over me, trying to intimidate me into giving up information you have no right to know. That’s the behavior of a jealous man, Jason."

Jason’s mouth tightened into a thin line. "What were you actually doing in Whitmore’s office all this time with that fucking Grant guy?"

Before Iris could answer, the heavy oak door behind her swung open. Alexander stepped into the corridor, his presence instantly altering the atmospheric pressure of the room.

He had heard everything. His gaze landed first on Iris—pressed against the wall, trembling—and then shifted to Jason. The easy, sophisticated composure he had worn inside the office vanished, replaced by a cold, predatory stillness.

Alexander’s left hand slipped casually into his trouser pocket. "And I’m guessing," he said, his voice a smooth, dangerous velvet, "that you’re the cheating ex."

It wasn’t a question.

Jason slowly turned. For the first time, the two men locked eyes.

Something strange happened inside Jason. Deep in his gut, his wolf stirred. It wasn’t a call of kinship or curiosity; it was a violent, instinctive warning.

Every nerve in Jason’s body screamed at him to retreat, to submit, to flee. But his ego was louder than his instinct. He squared his shoulders, refusing to acknowledge the sudden tremor in his hands.

Alexander was taller, broader, and possessed a terrifying level of calm. There was something in those icy blue eyes that Jason couldn’t place—a depth of power that felt ancient.

"And you are Alexander fucking Grant," Jason sneered, his lip curling. "The billionaire CEO who apparently got bored with making billions and decided he’d rather play dress-up as a professor with a bunch of undergraduates."

Alexander regarded him without blinking, his expression one of mild boredom.

Jason let his eyes sweep over Alexander’s expensive suit. "Tired of making money, Grant? Or did you just miss the feeling of being the most powerful person in the room?"

Alexander’s voice remained indifferent. "I’ll leave conversations about wealth and power to people who actually understand the concept of how they are acquired and maintained."

Nearby, Finn and Shawn had drifted into the hallway. Finn leaned closer to Shawn, whispering, "He just dismantled him with those words without even raising his voice."

Jason’s face darkened to a deep red. "You think you’re funny?"

"No," Alexander answered immediately. "I simply don’t find you particularly difficult to deal with." He paused, his gaze flicking to Iris for a brief second before returning to Jason. "In fact, I don’t find you impressive at all. I find myself wondering what she saw in you in the first place to even consider you a viable partner."

Jason’s temper snapped. He stepped toward Alexander, and the disparity in their size became glaring. Alexander stood like a monolith, his shoulders broad, his presence making the wide corridor feel suffocatingly small.

"Why was she in your office for five hours?" Jason demanded, his voice dropping into a dangerous growl.

Alexander glanced at Iris, then back to Jason. "Are you certain you want the answer to that?"

Jason crossed the remaining distance until they were chest to chest. "Listen carefully," he hissed. "She’s mine."

Iris’s eyes widened.

"I don’t know what game you’re playing, Grant, but whatever you think is happening between you and her ends right now. You keep your filthy hands off her."

Alexander’s gaze lowered to Jason’s face, then returned to his eyes. He let out a soft, mocking chuckle. "Is that supposed to frighten me?"

Jason’s lip curled. "I wonder what the university board would think if they discovered a professor was using his authority to pressure female students into... Doing things they don’t want to do."

Alexander smiled. It was a slow, predatory expression. "That’s an interesting accusation. Truly." His blue eyes remained fixed. "But that’s where your perception fails you. I would never need to pressure Iris."

He looked at her, and for a heartbeat, the coldness vanished, replaced by something intense. "She has considerably more power over me than you could ever comprehend."

Jason’s face twisted in rage. "Power over you? You fucking piece of shit—"