CHAPTER ONE: THE SECRET

There were twenty-six girls in Room 3A—but only one wore his ring.

Kairose Martins sat in the back, legs crossed, lollipop twirling in her mouth like she was bored with the universe. Her uniform skirt was shorter than regulation, her blazer off, her white shirt rolled at the sleeves and unbuttoned just enough to say I dare you. She didn’t speak much in class. Didn’t have to. Every time Professor Katio Storm wrote on the board, she watched him. Every time he turned around, his eyes flickered toward her.

Not a single soul knew. Not her friends. Not the other girls sighing his name like a prayer. Not the Vice Principal who called him young but brilliant. And certainly not the girl who tried slipping her number into his coat pocket last week.

They didn’t know he was hers.

They didn’t know what he did to her on the night of her 18th birthday, with rain slashing at the windows and her mother screaming through the door as Katio locked it and whispered, "You're mine now."

It wasn’t love. Not yet.

It was control. A deal. A secret sealed with trembling hands and trembling thighs.

He was her punishment.

She was his sin.

"Martins," Katio’s voice cut through her thoughts like a scalpel, sharp and deep. The girls beside her snapped their heads up, jealous of the attention.

"Yes, sir?" she purred.

A muscle ticked in his jaw.

"Come solve this."

She stood slowly, letting the candy drop from her lips with a soft pop. Girls giggled. Boys stared. And Katio—he burned. She could feel it. See it. Smell it. He hated when she teased him in public. But how else could she remind him that under his tailored suit and perfect tie, he was just a man who’d married a brat in secret?

As she passed him on the way to the board, her fingers grazed his. Barely. A flicker. A spark. A promise.

He flinched.

Good.

She liked when he lost control.

FLASHBACK: THE CONTRACT

Kairose had never seen her mother cry like that—on her knees, pleading in front of a man in a charcoal suit and eyes that didn’t blink.

“I’ll do anything,” her mother choked. “Just please… don’t take the house. Don’t shame us. My daughter—she just turned 18. She’s clean. She’s yours.”

Kairose didn’t speak. She couldn’t. Her heart had already fallen out of her chest the moment Katio Storm stepped through the door.

He was her literature professor. He was respected, distant, almost cold. He wasn’t supposed to know where she lived.

He wasn’t supposed to be standing in her living room, arms folded, as her mother offered her up like a gift wrapped in ruin.

“This is illegal,” Kairose had whispered, but her voice didn’t sound like hers. “You can’t—”

“I can,” Katio said, cutting her off, voice smooth as venom. “Because your mother forged loans in your name. Because you turned eighteen two hours ago. Because I’m willing to clear it all—if you become mine.”

It wasn’t about love. Or lust.

It was about leverage.

“Say yes, Rosie,” her mother begged. “Please. Just for a year. Just until we fix everything.”

A year?

A year of being his wife in secret? A year of being touched by a man who once ignored her in class but now stared like she was already naked?

Kairose stared at him.

He didn’t look pleased.

He looked hungry.

And then she saw it—the wedding band in the box he’d already prepared. Like he knew she'd say yes. Like he never doubted he’d win.

“You want me to marry my teacher,” she said flatly.

“No,” Katio said, stepping closer. “I want to own the brat who thinks she’s smarter than me. I want to teach her lessons that won’t be written on a board.”

Her breath caught. Her cheeks flushed.

God help her, part of her wanted to know what those lessons were.

The paper was signed before midnight.

The ring slid onto her finger while her hands shook.

And by morning, she was Mrs. Kairose Storm—the property of the one man every girl at school fantasized about.

They just didn’t know he already had her.

FIRST NIGHT: UNTOUCHED

Kairose stood by the edge of the bed, trembling.

Her dress had been peeled away slowly—layer by layer until she was left in nothing but a thin silk slip that barely reached mid-thigh. Her hair tumbled wild over her shoulders. Her lips, bitten pink. Her chest, heaving.

Katio sat in the armchair like a king watching a play he’d already memorized, legs parted, tie undone. His sleeves were rolled up, exposing the veins of his forearms. He didn’t speak. Just watched.

She hated how hot her skin felt under his gaze.

“I’m ready,” she lied.

He laughed. Not softly. Not kindly. A deep, dark sound that cracked through her pride.

“No,” he said, standing slowly, his steps echoing on the hardwood. “You’re not.”

“I said I’m—”

“I heard you.” He was behind her now, one hand sliding up the inside of her thigh, breath brushing her ear. “But your body’s lying. You’re tense. Scared. Still acting like you have a choice.”

His fingers hooked her chin, forcing her to look up. His face was so close. His lips a breath away. “I don’t want to ruin you, little bride. Not yet. Tonight’s about fear,” he whispered, trailing a hand down the curve of her side, “not fucking.”

Her throat went dry. Her thighs clenched.

“You’re cruel,” she breathed.

Katio grinned, sharp and cruel. “No. I’m patient.”

Then he pushed her gently onto the bed—not to take, not to dominate, but to watch.

He made her spread her legs. Touch her own skin. Whisper yes, sir through gritted teeth while he murmured praise in her ear and never laid a single finger below her waist.

By the time he stood again, she was flushed and aching and humiliated. His thumb traced the corner of her wet mouth.

“You’ll beg next time,” he said, grabbing his blazer. “And maybe then, I’ll taste you.”

He left her there—undone and untouched.

THE NEXT MORNING

Kairose entered Room 3A like a storm cloud in heels.

The class was already buzzing. Girls in short skirts leaned over their desks, giggling, swiping on lip gloss, whispering his name like he was a god. Katio Storm. The professor with a smirk that made panties drop and essays forgotten.

When he entered, the volume spiked.

He wore black. Black shirt, black slacks, no tie. Just a silver watch and that cold, slow smile that made the air go tight.

“Good morning, Professor,” cooed Lila from the front row, breasts practically poured into her shirt.

“Good morning, Professor Storm,” another girl chirped, flicking her hair.

Kairose rolled her eyes so hard they nearly got stuck.

She sat in the back like always. Headphones in. Sunglasses on. A whole fuck you in human form.

“Damn, Kairose,” her seatmate whispered. “You’re not even gonna try?”

She popped her gum, gaze locked on Katio’s back as he scrawled across the board.

“They want him?” she said with a smirk. “They can have him.”

The words were bitter on her tongue.

But her thighs still remembered his hand. Her neck still burned from his breath.

Let them try, she thought, folding her arms. Let them throw themselves at him. He might not have taken her yet…

But he already owned her.

CHAPTER THREE: BENEATH THE Surface

Kairose was already in class when he walked in.

Late, as always, like time bent around him. The room hushed for exactly one breath—and then exploded with excited whispers as he tossed his bag onto the desk and leaned against it like it was a throne.

Katio looked lethal that morning.

Black turtleneck hugging his body, watch flashing as he ran a hand through his hair, and that infernal smirk resting on his lips like he knew how filthy every girl in the room wanted to be for him.

“Good morning,” he said, deep voice vibrating across the walls. “Let’s begin with tragedy today.”

He turned to write Othello on the board.

Kairose rolled her eyes. Oh, the irony.

But then it began.

Lila giggled. Loudly. “Sir, did you get a haircut?”

He turned, slow, with that glint in his eye. “Noticed, did you?”

Kairose froze.

He never responded to that girl.

“Looks good,” another girl chirped. “Like… really good.”

Katio’s grin widened. “Appreciated.”

He was enjoying it. Drinking in the attention like wine.

Then, the worst part—he walked down the aisle between desks. Stopped beside Lila. Leaned in, whispering something. She laughed too loud, touching his arm like she owned a piece of him.

Kairose watched, nails digging into her thigh.

He didn’t even look her way.

He spent the next twenty minutes smiling, cracking jokes, making eye contact with every girl but her. His tone was playful. His mouth dangerous. And his body… his body leaned close, lingered too long, invited want.

She hated how her chest burned.

She hated how he knew it.

He glanced at her once—barely a flicker—and the amusement in his eyes was cruel.

You wanted to act like I was nothing? his gaze seemed to say. Fine. Now I’ll show you what nothing feels like.

When class ended, girls swarmed his desk like honey-starved bees.

“Professor Storm, can I stay behind and ask you something?” “Do you have a girlfriend?” “Are you seeing anyone?”

He chuckled, low and easy. “I’m spoken for,” he said, eyes dancing.

Kairose’s breath caught.

But then he added, “But not very attached.”

The laughter that followed hit her like glass.

She shoved her books into her bag and walked out, chin high, lips sealed.

But her heart?

It stayed behind with the man who hadn’t touched her the night before… but was ruining her all the same.