Stove hung up the phone and sighed, a small smile tugging at his lips. He turned to find his wife, Rosy, watching him from her wheelchair. Her eyes were full of maternal curiosity.
"What is it, Stove? Is everything okay?" Rosy asked.
"Ah, it's fine. Albert and his friends are holding a welcome party for their new professor—which happens to be Louise," Stove explained.
Rosy's eyes widened in surprise. "What? You mean Louise is in Albert's department? Our guest is our son's professor?"
"Yes, honey! Albert mentioned they might not come home tonight because of the celebration," Stove said.
Rosy leaned back, looking thoughtful. "Oh, let them enjoy. Louise seems so reserved and unfriendly at first glance. At least this will help him build a good relationship with his students. It's good for his heart."
"I agree. You stay here; I'll go upstairs and check on Louise's uncle and aunt. Albert said Louise wanted me to inform them," Stove said.
"Go ahead," Rosy encouraged.
Stove headed upstairs to the wing where the Stones were staying. He knocked on the door, and Martin opened it almost immediately, looking anxious.
"Oh! Sir Stove Rev! When did you return from duty? Please, come inside," Martin said, stepping back.
Stove entered the suite. The room was still cluttered with half-open suitcases and luxury items. "I just got back," Stove said.
"Sorry, the room is a bit messy. We're still unpacking everything we brought," Lilly apologized, standing up from a chair.
"It's no problem," Stove waved it off. "Actually, I'm here to tell you both that your nephew, Louise Stone, will not be coming home tonight."
"What do you mean, Sir?" Martin's face went pale. He looked genuinely shocked.
"His students are holding a party for him. He's at my private fraternity house. My son and his friends usually spend their time there when they want to celebrate. Louise has joined them for the night," Stove explained.
Lilly and Martin exchanged a look of pure horror. Their eyes were wide, and their hands were trembling.
"Oh no! How could Louise do that?" Martin gasped. "He never does things like this! He hates crowds and noise! If his father—no, I won't let this happen. I'll call him back immediately!" Martin reached into his pocket, his movements frantic.
"Wait, wait!" Stove stepped forward, his tone firm. "Why are you all so worried? Since this morning, you've been bickering and stressing about Louise's father. Louise is a young man of today's generation! He should be allowed to enjoy his own life. Why do you insist on keeping a cage around him? Let him be!"
Lilly looked at Stove, her expression a mix of terror and desperation. "Sir, you don't know anything! I'm sorry for saying this, but please... do not interfere in this."
Stove raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. "Fine. I won't interfere in your family matters. But Albert said Louise's phone is dead. He'll call you in the morning."
With that, Stove turned and walked out. Behind him, Lilly collapsed onto the edge of the bed, clutching her head.
"Oh God, Martin... what if your brother finds out his son is doing things like this here? He'll kill us first for letting it happen!" Lilly whispered, her voice shaking.
"Tomorrow morning, the moment Louise walks through that door, I am going to demand an answer," Martin said, his face hardening with anger born of fear. "Why is he acting like this?"
As Stove walked back downstairs, his brow was furrowed in thought. Why are they so terrified of his father? he wondered. If he's the man I suspected this morning—then Louise would be a monster just like him. But Louise... he seems so soft. So fragile.
Stove shook his head, trying to clear his mind. I'm just overthinking it. He's just a regular kid with a strict dad. He walked back toward the main hall to join his wife, unaware that the "soft" professor was currently drunk and flirting with his son.
Meanwhile Albert struggled against the wind as he navigated his motorbike toward the outskirts of the city. The fraternity house sat secluded, a massive structure that served as a private haven for the elite students. As the President of the fraternity, Albert always kept a spare key tucked into the hidden pocket of his bag.
He pulled up to the dark entrance, the silence of the night only broken by Louise's soft, nonsensical mumbling. Albert dismounted, hoisting Louise onto his shoulder while balancing his own bag and Louise's suitcase in his other hand.
"Sir, please stay steady against the wall. I just need to open the door," Albert pleaded, propping the Professor up.
"Yes... yes, of course... I am... of course..." Louise slurred, his head lolling to the side.
Albert shook his head, quickly unlocking the heavy door. He hurried inside, dropping the luggage in the main hall—the massive space usually reserved for loud parties—and flipped on the lights. When he stepped back outside to grab Louise, his heart nearly stopped. Louise had slid down the wall and was sprawled on the cold floor.
"Oh god!" Albert groaned. He scooped Louise up into a bridal carry, his muscles tensed from the effort. He stepped inside and kicked the door shut with his boot, the lock clicking into place.
As Albert began to head for the stairs, Louise started mumbling into Albert's chest, his voice small and panicked. "My glasses... where are my glasses? I need them... my glasses!"
Albert ignored the drunken rambling, tightened his grip on the Professor's waist, and kept moving. He didn't have time to look for accessories; he had to get Louise out of sight.
The first floor was a mess of party gear, but the second floor was quieter, housing study rooms and private quarters. Toward the back, past the porch where several unmade beds sat, was the guest wing. It was the only truly private area.
Albert carried him into the guest suite. It hadn't been used in a week, and a thin layer of dust covered the mahogany furniture. Albert gently laid Louise down on the large bed.
"Sorry, Sir... it's a bit dusty," Albert whispered, rubbing his nose. "I have a dust allergy, so I can't stay in here. You sleep; I'll be out on the porch. We'll head home first thing in the morning."
Louise's face was pale, his breathing shallow as he continued to mumble. Albert lingered for a moment, staring down at him. He actually looks cute like this, Albert murmured to himself, a soft smile tugging at his lips.
He turned to leave, but before he could take a single step, a cold, slender hand clamped around his wrist. Albert froze, his heart jumping into his throat.
"Sir? Are you not sleeping yet? You look so tired—"
"Sleep with me," Louise interrupted. He wasn't looking at Albert with the eyes of a Professor; he was pouting, his gaze hazy and desperate.
"Sir!? What... what are you saying?" Albert's voice shook. He tried to pull away, but Louise gripped both of Albert's hands, pulling them toward his face and resting his head against Albert's palms with a soft, needy whimper.
"Please... do sex with me," Louise whispered, his voice dropping into a raw, unfiltered tone. "Please... just fuck me."
Albert's world stopped. The silence of the room was suddenly deafening. He stared down at the man he had been obsessed with all day—his Professor, the son of an Oligarch—now begging for the very thing Albert had dreamed of, but in the worst possible way.