Veronica's entire body went rigid.
The cigarette slipped from her fingers, hitting the carpet with a soft 'hiss' as the ember died against expensive fabric.
She spun around, eyes wide, mouth opening to scream or curse or—
And then she saw him.
'Him.'
Standing not five feet away, leaning casually against her mahogany desk like he'd been there the whole time.
Dark hair—not black, but that deep chestnut brown that caught light and turned almost auburn in the right angle. Messy in that deliberate way that looked effortless but probably took effort. It fell slightly over his forehead, framing a face that made her forget how to breathe.
Sharp jawline. Not harsh, but defined—carved like someone had taken their time getting every angle perfect. Clean-shaven, smooth skin that looked too flawless to belong to a college student.
And his eyes.
