The heavy door clicked shut. The examination room was dead silent, save for the faint hum of the air conditioning.
Brenda stared at Bryon. He stood beside the bed, holding the iodine-soaked swab. He slowly took off his suit jacket and tossed it onto a nearby chair, then began rolling up the sleeves of his crisp white shirt.
"What are you doing?" Brenda asked, her voice tight with anxiety.
"Cleaning your wound," Bryon replied calmly.
He dropped to one knee beside the examination bed. He took her slender ankle in his left hand, his thumb resting against her pulse point.
Brenda tried to pull her leg back. "I can do it myself."
Bryon's fingers tightened around her ankle, locking her in place. He looked up, his slate-gray eyes pinning hers. "Don't move."
He lowered his head and gently dabbed the iodine onto the scraped skin of her knee. The antiseptic stung sharply. Brenda hissed, her body jerking involuntarily.
Bryon paused. Without looking up, he leaned closer and blew a soft, cool breath over the stinging wound.
The sensation of his breath against her bare skin sent a violent shiver up Brenda's spine. Her heart slammed against her ribs. The intimacy of the gesture was suffocating. She looked away, staring hard at the ceiling tiles, trying to ignore the heat radiating from his large body.
A knock on the door shattered the tension.
The older doctor stepped inside, holding a clipboard. He looked extremely uncomfortable, his eyes darting between Bryon and Brenda.
Bryon stood up, tossing the swab into the trash. He pulled a tissue from the dispenser and wiped his hands. "Report the findings."
The doctor cleared his throat. "Well, the blood work is fine. However, during the initial physical assessment, the nurses noted some... other injuries."
Brenda frowned. "Other injuries?"
The doctor looked at Bryon, his expression a mix of professional concern and deep embarrassment. "Mr. Reeves, there is severe bruising on the patient's inner thighs and around her waist. While I understand young people enjoy... vigorous activities, such forceful intimacy can cause deep tissue tearing. I recommend a lighter touch in the future."
The words hung in the air.
Brenda's brain short-circuited. The blood rushed to her face so fast it made her dizzy. The bruises. The fingerprints on her waist. The marks on her thighs from last night in the hotel.
The doctor thought Bryon had done that to her in a fit of rough sex, and that she was hiding it.
"No!" Brenda gasped, mortified. "That's not-"
"Thank you, Doctor," Bryon interrupted. His voice was smooth as silk.
Brenda whipped her head to look at him.
Bryon wasn't looking at the doctor. He was looking directly at Brenda. A wicked, possessive smirk played on his lips. He reached up and slowly adjusted his left cufflink.
"I appreciate the advice," Bryon said, his eyes dark with amusement and something much more dangerous. "I will be sure to control myself better next time."
The doctor nodded quickly, relieved not to be yelled at, and practically fled the room.
The second the door closed, Brenda grabbed the small pillow from the bed and hurled it at Bryon's face.
Bryon caught it effortlessly with one hand.
"You are a sick, twisted bastard!" Brenda yelled, her chest heaving. "Why didn't you tell him the truth?"
Bryon tossed the pillow aside. He took two slow steps forward, trapping her between his arms as he placed his hands on the edge of the bed on either side of her hips.
He leaned in close. "Tell him what? That you clawed my back like a wildcat last night while begging for more?"
Brenda's breath hitched. She felt cornered, humiliated, and completely outmatched. She needed to end this game now.
She lifted her chin, forcing her voice to stay steady. "It doesn't matter. You can play your power games all you want. I resigned today. I handed my letter to Principal Benjamin. I am no longer Aiden's tutor. You have no reason to ever contact me again."
Bryon's smirk vanished instantly. The air in the room seemed to drop ten degrees.
He stood up straight. He reached into his pocket, pulled out his phone, and dialed a number. He hit the speaker button and set the phone on the metal tray next to the bed.
The phone rang twice before a panicked voice answered. "Mr. Reeves! To what do I owe the pleasure?"
It was Evonne Benjamin.
"Principal Benjamin," Bryon said, his voice a lethal, quiet drawl. "I was just informed by Miss Vincent that she resigned today. Is this true?"
"No! Absolutely not!" Evonne shrieked through the speaker. "She tried, but I refused! She signed a guarantee to finish the semester. She is still employed, I swear it!"
Bryon looked down at Brenda. Her face had gone completely pale.
"Good," Bryon said, and hung up.
He picked up his phone and slipped it back into his pocket. He looked at Brenda, who was staring at him with wide, defeated eyes.
Bryon reached out and pinched her chin, tilting her face up. His thumb brushed over her lower lip, which was bruised from her own biting.
"You are a terrible liar," he whispered.
He let go of her chin and picked up his suit jacket.
"My driver will take you back to campus," Bryon said, his tone returning to that of a cold, untouchable CEO. "You have until 8:00 PM. If you are not at the manor tonight, I will personally come to Northbridge University and show the entire faculty exactly how 'vigorous' we can be."
He turned and walked out of the room, leaving Brenda sitting on the bed, trembling with a mixture of rage and absolute despair.
