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Chapter 17 - How About an In-Depth Exchange of Ideas, Professor?

Five carefully placed bait-bombs, each smeared with a different color of honey, were precisely deployed onto his path.

The first four:

The youthful, sporty sweetheart—Catherine.

The alluring, forbidden Asian academic—Kobayashi Miu.

The Black beauty radiating sunshine and wild charm—Samantha.

The physically impossible bombshell challenging the laws of physics—Abby.

Each type was precisely targeted at one of his specific "preferences." This lineup was practically an intelligence agency's precisely tailored "Campus Hottie 101."

He navigated them with practiced ease. He returned Katie's adoration with friendly humor, Miu's academic inquiry with slightly pointed advice, Samantha's enthusiasm with equal energy, and Abby's "cry for help" with gentlemanly readiness and diligent assistance.

Hawk enjoyed the elaborate "feast" prepared for him, taking all comers and refusing to expose their game. As long as they weren't sick, it was fine...

Especially the last one, Vivian, the Actuarial Science instructor! This woman was definitely not a nobody. The evidence? Just look at her face! Even if she wasn't Mera, she had to be some other major character. He silently noted her name, intending to investigate her background later.

....

The afternoon sun was perfect.

Hawk knocked on Professor Emilia's office door. Unlike Professor Finch's austerity, Professor Emilia's office was bright and spacious, filled with vibrant green plants, and the air held a faint aroma of freshly baked pastries.

"Ah, our 'Financial Storm Center' has arrived?" Professor Emilia set down her delicate bone china teacup. Dressed in a well-fitted cream-colored suit, she smiled warmly. "How did Finch's 'moral judgment' performance go this morning? Did he manage to nail you to the cross?"

Hawk flopped onto the sofa opposite her and picked up a sweet cookie she offered. "Does the professor follow gossip, too? Professor Finch was probably just suffering from indigestion."

Emilia chuckled, radiating the sophisticated charm of a mature woman. "Indigestion? Your tactics simply choked him up. But I like your edge. That old fool Finch's question was truly… full of a scholar's naive pedantry."

She stopped looking at Hawk, her long fingers unconsciously tracing the dark blue ribbon tied around the neck of a Port wine bottle. The ribbon coiled and uncoiled between her pale fingers, like a restless snake.

Hawk didn't reply, instead walking over to the desk, picking up an empty glass, and pouring a bit of bourbon.

"The capital market," Emilia finally turned her head after a long silence. The light shining into her deep brown eyes mixed wisdom with a hint of indescribable madness. "Its laws are never moral scrolls written on parchment, Hawk. They are inscriptions carved onto the victor's blade."

"Some people, like you," her voice dropped lower, gaining a textured, husky quality. "Are born knowing how to make… capital flow more rapidly, more recklessly."

Emilia stood up, the toe of her high-heeled shoe gliding silently across the carpet, then very slowly rubbing against the perfectly tailored trouser leg of Hawk's suit. The subtle friction passed clearly through the fine wool fabric.

Hawk slowly turned, seeing the sparkle of interest and scrutiny in Emilia's eyes.

"Frankly, Hawk, you carved up Bates beautifully. But all the old foxes on Wall Street are guessing: who's the next appetizer that will whet your appetite?"

Hawk leisurely took a bite of the cookie, meeting her intense gaze. "Appetizer?" He curved his lips in a playful, cynical smile. "Professor, you're more of an expert than I am at the capital game. And… as I told you before, the CEO position at Lane Group is much more stimulating than being a university professor."

Hawk needed a financial master to take the reins of Lane Capital—someone experienced, bold, aggressive, and a reckless financial madman. Emilia was the perfect candidate in his eyes.

Although Andy was a commercial genius, her strength lay in her comprehensive abilities: stability, no weaknesses, and being well-rounded. In the two years she had been in charge, the entire Lane Group had been built into an unbreakable fortress. But asking her to dominate the financial markets would be pushing her too far; she specialized in operations, management, finance, and risk control.

At Hawk's renewed invitation, a spark flashed in Emilia's eyes. Her high heel nudged Hawk's upper thigh, and she moved closer.

"Hawk Lane, after Bates Capital collapsed, Wall Street called you cold and precise, like a machine." Her red lips parted, her warm breath brushing his earlobe. "Tell me, which chessboard is your next move going to land on?"

Hawk looked at her face, so close, a mix of intelligence and charm. He spread his hands helplessly. "Professor, I don't have a target yet. My attack on Bates Capital was genuinely about a personal grudge…"

But then his voice dropped. "However, that's not absolute. We could… have an in-depth exchange of ideas, Professor?"

Emilia stared at his face. The strange fire in her eyes suddenly intensified, like dry kindling catching flame. She lunged forward, slamming into Hawk's chest with a determined force, her hands fiercely grabbing the lapels of his expensive shirt.

"Don't call me Professor," she nearly snarled, her hot breath on his jaw, mixed with the rich, sweet aroma of Port wine. "I am not that damn professor when I'm in front of you."

She stood on her tiptoes and fiercely pressed her mouth against Hawk's prominent Adam's apple, her canine teeth leaving a subtle but distinct stinging sensation.

"Tell me." Her voice was fragmented and trembling from the violent movement and some repressed madness, her body pressing tightly against his through the thin layers of clothing. "Bates was just an appetizer, wasn't it? Tell me, Hawk Lane… who is the next target you plan to devour?"

Sunlight streamed through the blinds, casting dappled light and shadow between the two of them.

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