Professor's Hahn, presence in the conference room caught me by surprise. Outfitted in one of his trademark thrift store blazers. with a shirt and sweater underneath.

He rose smoothly from his chair as I approached. "Why, Miss Steelman, what an...unexpected pleasure," he remarked in his trademark resonant baritone, his dark eyes raking over me in an assessing perusal that bordered on impropriety from anyone else. We shook hands in salutation.

"I was told I'd be meeting the mastermind behind this hospital expansion," his deep voice laced with inference. "But I must admit, I never imagined it would be one of my own students."

Raising my chin subtly, I met his inquisitive stare head-on. "Let's just say that I prefer to operate outside of the spotlight, Professor."

"Fair enough," he replies, his gaze continues scanning me up and down slowly and purposely. "You strike me as someone exceptionally guarded, but still it is a shame to hide such an extraordinary talent," he adds, a hint of intrigue in his dark eyes.

His attempt at psychoanalysis irks me."And you strike me as someone who enjoys prying into things best left alone, besides I rather let my work speak for itself, Professor." My tone dry and factual.

He pauses, then observes, "You seem tense. Everything alright?"

I stiffen, not wanting to continue our exchange. "I'm fine. Just busy, I'm sure you understand."

"Of course," he says, an amused glint in his eye. "Well, if you need assistance, don't hesitate to ask."

"I've got it covered," I reply firmly.

"I'm sure you do." An insufferable smug smirk played across his face. "You're quite remarkable, Miss Steelman—"

A soft tap on the door interrupted the professor's charade. It was time for me to truly shine. I turned and greeted the group of potential donors with my most captivating smile and poised demeanor.

The meeting unfolded perfectly, leaving me with an undeniable sense of pride and accomplishment by the time it concluded.

After seeing the donors out, Hahn and I headed to inspect his new domain. But I couldn't help the growing sense of unease. The rooms were sterile and cold, lacking any warmth or comfort for the patients.

Yet Professor Hahn appeared quite content, even invigorated by the stark environment - suited more for experimentation than rehabilitation. Something about his gleaming-eyed enthusiasm struck me as more ominous than admirable.

I shuddered as we passed an exam room filled with strange equipment. This place felt more like a rat laboratory than a hospital.

"Very efficient design," he remarked approvingly. "Everything state-of-the-art for optimal treatment and observation."

We entered a patient room, and I gasped - the walls lined with restrictive restraints and monitoring devices. It looked more like a prison cell than a place of healing.

Professor Hahn didn't seem bothered. "Impressive. This will allow close observation for the more unstable cases."

"I'm glad you approve." I made sure my words didn't betray my true thoughts. I couldn't allow him to detect my growing suspicions and discomfort, not yet.

A sudden, jarring crash echoed from somewhere down the hallway. Hahn's head whipped around, expression hardening as he swiftly moved to investigate the source of the disturbance. I followed close behind, my pulse quickening.

Rounding the corner, we came upon a highly distressing scene - a young woman, clearly in the throes of some psychotic break, was violently smashing a chair against the wall. She seemed completely unaware of her surroundings, lost in an inconceivable frenzy as she raged.

"Sedate her immediately!" Hahn barked in a commanding tone to a nearby orderly, who quickly approached the woman with a sedative-filled syringe at the ready.

But as the orderly moved to subdue and medicate her, the woman struck out with unexpected strength and speed. She knocked the needle aside, sending it clattering to the floor before shoving the orderly backwards.

Then she charged at the Professor. He went down hard with a pained grunt as the woman barreled into him. Before I could fully process what was happening, she whirled on me with frightening intensity.

I froze, my body rigid as her powerful hands seized me, dragging me away with frantic force. A torrent of unhinged, ranting words pierced the air around us as she slammed me against the wall with alarming ease.

The next thing I felt was her grip shifting crushingly on my throat, squeezing viciously to cut off my airflow. I gasped desperately, my hands flailing to try and pry her away, but she was shockingly, terrifyingly strong. Dark spots began flickering across my vision as dizziness set in from lack of oxygen.

Then, through the quickening vertigo, I caught a glimpse of movement - Professor Hahn retrieving the dropped syringe in one decisive motion before lunging at the crazed woman. A garbled shout reached my ears as the pressure on my throat was slowly released.

I crumpled towards the floor, gasping and wheezing as precious air rushed back into my burning lungs. A firm pair of arms abruptly enveloped me from behind, cradling and steadying my shaking form while I gulped down heaving breaths.

"Miss Steelman? Miss Steelman, are you alright?"

Disoriented, I slowly lifted my gaze to find myself scrutinized by his deep espresso eyes, their intensity piercing straight through me. Our faces lingered just inches apart, his warm breath caressing my skin in waves, carrying a hint of masculine spice that made my heart hammer traitorously.

I froze, paralyzed by his unexpected proximity and the startling realization of our closeness.

Hahn's POV

"I-I...I'm alright," she rasped unconvincingly. Her typically sharp tone replaced by uncharacteristic meekness.

I ought to have extricated myself the moment Tahlia fell tremulously into my embrace after the assault. Propriety demanded clinical detachment. Yet, I committed the egregious error of meeting her gaze.

And at that pivotal moment, everything...shifted irreversibly.

Gone was her trademark steely resolve, replaced by trepidation and barely concealed panic - a disarmingly vulnerable aspect I had never witnessed. She was exposed, the most fragile and delicate creature. The impenetrability of her expression supplanted by feminine susceptibility that dissolved any negative feelings I harbored towards her.

This was the very woman I should not indulge - she, the proverbial forbidden fruit. With her every quavering breath and wide, frightened eyes, instincts I'd felt only once before...with Amalia, were aroused.

The memory lanced through me like a white-hot blade - Amalia's warm hazel eyes, her brilliant smile eternally extinguished. That night rushed back in agonizing flashes: her frightened whimpers, the sickening crunch as the butt of the gun...

I viciously battered the recollection away, refusing to relive my greatest failure yet again. But the wounds never truly heal, do they? They just fester endlessly beneath the surface.

The painful memory threatened to strangle me from the inside. Years of hatred, rage and grief flooded my being with formidable force, yet could not extinguish this alarming new stirring of tender instinct.

Enough. I was shattered from my reverie. I struggled to re-establish proper distance from the woman before me.

"Miss Steelman..." My voice emerged rough, gravelly from the maelstrom still boiling within...

Realization visibly dawned as her name passed my lips, her fair complexion flushing crimson. She hastily recoiled, only to stumble, those infernal stilettos betraying her already unsteady footing. A loud yelp escaped her lips as her body pitched backwards.

On reflex, my arm encircled her waist, her hands instinctively clutching to my blazer, drawing her flush against me as I balanced us both. Our bodies seemed magnetized, drawn ever closer until I feared her lips might actually meet mine. Another shock detonated through my very core at that thought.

This was unnaceptable. Inappropriate. Dangerous.

Yet even as I berated myself for this profound lack of judgment, the tumultuous emotional chaos roiling within me was undeniable. Her intoxicating proximity awakened primal, masculine responses I couldn't ignore. Responses that lacerated me with guilt.

Holding the living embodiment of everything I fervently despised in my arms, I was disgusted at my body's treacherous infatuation with the little vixen.

"Careful," I murmured, her every contour searing me even through the fabric of our clothes. With monumental force of will, I steadied us both and gained a few precious inches of clearance.

"I...y-yes of course," she stammered, holding my gaze with those entrancing gunmetal pools. The grimace of pain that flashed her face as she clung to the wall was indicative of her unwell state.

"I think is best I check you out, in case you're injured" I blurted out, the words escaping my lips before I could stop them.

"Thanks b-but there's no-" she started, but her protest was cut short as I guided her to the closest examination room. As we coursed through the halls, I could feel her intense gaze burning into me; she was scrutinizing my every move with an intensity I had never experienced before.

Later, as I tended her sprained ankle, each sharp inhale or whisper of a moan from her lips ignited an intense, carnal longing I struggled to ignore. Purposefully, I avoided prolonged eye contact and any unnecessary touch.

"Does it hurt terribly?" I asked, keeping my eyes firmly averted from the tantalizing glimpses of alabaster thigh and black lace visible beneath the hem of her dress.

"It's...not unbearable," she managed, though the slight tremor in her tone suggested otherwise.

"I suggest you stay off that ankle for a few days and you shouldn't wear those shoes either" I said gruffly, while wrapping her slender foot.

She bit her lower lip, eyes flashing defiance as if I had just issued a personal affront instead of medical advice. This small, seemingly petulant gesture only reinforced what I already knew: she was the antithesis of my beloved Amalia – vain, arrogant, and infuriatingly entitled.

Her very existence mocked me, a living embodiment of the treacherous stock that robbed me of everything. Tahlia's despicable lineage alone should have been reason enough for me to steer clear from this entire situation before it tainted me further.

Despite my relentless efforts to remind myself of her venomous and cold nature, I found my mind treading into treacherous territory yet again. Her lips, full and inviting, painted a rich cherry hue that whispered of both sweetness and sin. An enticement I should reject, yet found myself perversely craving like a man dying of thirst.

"I'll...take that into consideration," she replied at last, with a dismissive tone.

As I stand up, I permitted myself a single, self-serving look into her stormy depths, searching for any hint of the vulnerability I saw not long ago. But found only that perfectly poised and unreadable facade...and perhaps a fleeting flicker of intrigue that matched my own.

"And take something for the pain. Your neck will be sore for a couple days" I managed in a tone of forced neutrality.

The silent standoff stretched onward, until I could bear it no longer. "After what happened here today, I would understand if you—" I began, but her icy glare cut me off.

"Professor,"

she interrupted firmly, her tone commanding attention. "Today's events only prove that we have a lot of work ahead of us to ensure the patients' well-being and safety, and prevent further incidents," she asserted, her resolve evident in the steely glint returning to her eyes.

To her credit, Tahlia gathered her composure, displaying admirable resilience despite the chaos that had unfolded. However, her composed demeanor did little to quell the darkness she had ignited within me.

"Moving forward, that should be our top priority," she declared, her chin lifting ever so slightly, adding an unmistakable subtext to her words—a subtle directive.

"Of course, Miss Steelman. Perhaps next time, we should meet at my on-campus office. Let's say, Thursday at 3 PM?" I proposed, attempting to regain control of the situation.

"I'll check my calendar and let you know. I appreciate your...commitment," she replied diplomatically, her words laced with a hint of sarcasm.

Without another word, she turned and limped from the room, her exit surprisingly regal despite her obvious injury. My jaw clenched in frustration, the audacity of her poise leaving me seething with anger.

As I massaged my temples, trying to ease the dull throb that had begun to spread, I couldn't deny the allure of this arrogant little viper. Despite her flaws, she was undeniably captivating—a perfect storm of femininity and ferocity, tempting me to stray from the path of reason.