Chapter 52
[ 1,272 words ]
A girl in the third row, emboldened by the momentary shift in Alexander’s attention, slowly raised her hand.
“Professor Grant,” she began, her voice carrying a faint breathlessness that had nothing to do with the question she was about to ask.
“Will there be opportunities for direct mentorship? I mean, will you have office hours where students can come to you for questions, guidance, or perhaps even advice for those of us who are genuinely interested in pursuing a career in corporate management?”
Her hopeful gaze lingered on Alexander’s face for a little longer than necessary.
Iris recognized her immediately. She was one of the girls who had been whispering excitedly the moment Alexander walked into the classroom, and Iris distinctly remembered hearing her tell the girl beside her that their new professor was “ridiculously hot.”
Apparently, she had already decided that Alexander Grant was worth pursuing.
Alexander’s lips twitched, although whether it was amusement or something else was impossible to determine.
“Indeed,” he replied, his deep voice carrying effortlessly across the room. “I believe mentorship is an important part of education, particularly when a student demonstrates the discipline and commitment necessary to benefit from it.”
The girl straightened in her seat.
“I will hold office hours, although perhaps not in the traditional sense. My schedule, as you can imagine, is demanding. However, students who demonstrate genuine commitment to their work will have opportunities to speak with me privately when necessary.”
He paused, then his eyes, as if drawn by an invisible thread, moved across the room and they found Iris. The look lasted only a moment, but it was long enough.
“I am always accessible to those who have earned that access,” he added quietly. “There will be opportunities for deeper discussions, more personalized guidance, and practical insight when appropriate.”
Iris’s fingers tightened around her phone beneath the desk. She knew that look. She knew the deliberate pause in his voice.
She knew exactly what he was doing. He was speaking to the entire class, yet somehow every word felt directed at her.
The lecture hall suddenly seemed smaller. The air felt warmer against her skin, and she became painfully conscious of Alexander standing only a short distance away.
His pronouncement about “opportunities for deeper discussions” hung in the air like a veiled threat, a promise of something she desperately wanted to avoid and, terrifyingly, felt a magnetic pull towards.
Iris felt the heat rise in her cheeks, a blush she desperately tried to suppress. She lowered her gaze to her notebook and pretended to read something she hadn’t written.
This was ridiculous. He couldn’t possibly continue doing this. They were in a university lecture hall, surrounded by dozens of students.
He was her professor now. Whatever had happened between them before they knew each other’s names belonged to another night, another place, another life.
At least, that was what Iris desperately wanted to believe. But Alexander clearly had other plans. He wasn’t letting go. He hadn’t forgotten. And he was making sure she knew it.
A collective murmur of interest moved through the classroom as he turned his attention back to the projected syllabus.
“We’ll begin next week with an analysis of the recent merger between AltaCorp and Sterling Innovations,” he said, his voice returning to the measured professionalism of a lecturer.
A new slide appeared behind him.
“I expect each of you to understand the market conditions that led to the acquisition, the principal players involved, and the potential long-term consequences for both companies and the broader industry. I am not interested in summaries copied from articles. I want analysis.”
He turned toward the screen.
“The preliminary reading list has already been uploaded to the course portal. Start early. This is not a class where you can wait until the night before an examination and hope memorization will carry you through.”
A few students exchanged uneasy looks. Across the aisle, a girl named Chloe, who had been quietly taking notes and usually quite reserved, raised her hand, her eyes wide with a mixture of awe and apprehension.
“Professor Grant?”
Alexander nodded. “Yes?”
“For those of us who will be selected for the training at Grant Enterprises, will we be studying any of the company’s strategies in particular?”
She hesitated before adding, “Your company’s acquisition of that technology startup last year, for example. It was widely praised for the way the integration was handled.”
Alexander paused, a flicker of something almost like amusement crossing his features before settling back into a practiced neutrality. He steepled his fingers, his gaze sweeping over the eager faces before him.
“While I appreciate your interest in my own company’s endeavors, Miss…” he paused, as if prompting her for her name.
“Dawson, sir. Chloe Dawson.”
“Miss Dawson. While it’s true that Grant Enterprises operates at the forefront of several evolving markets, I believe it would be beneficial for you to analyze a broader perspective of corporate strategies. Studying one successful company can be useful, but relying exclusively on one company’s methods can limit your understanding of the business world.”
He gestured toward the syllabus.
“Those selected for the two-month training program at Grant Enterprises will be assigned to different departments and exposed to different areas of the organization. Some of you may work with finance. Others may observe marketing, operations, human resources, investment strategy, or corporate development.”
Several students immediately began whispering excitedly. Alexander continued as though he hadn’t noticed.
“You will encounter different leadership styles, different risk assessments, different approaches to problem-solving, and, inevitably, different ethical dilemmas. The purpose is not to turn you into miniature versions of Grant Enterprises executives.”
A faint smile touched his lips. “It is to teach you how to think.”
Iris found herself listening despite her best efforts. That was the problem with Alexander.
Even when she wanted to hate everything about him, she couldn’t deny that he knew what he was talking about.
He spoke with the confidence of someone who had spent years making decisions where millions of dollars, thousands of employees, and the future of entire companies depended on getting things right.
“Of course,” Alexander added, “we may examine certain internal methodologies if they provide useful examples for the concepts we discuss.”
His gaze shifted toward Iris. “Provided they are relevant.”
Iris felt her stomach clench. He was so effortlessly in control, so utterly unfazed by the sudden shift in his circumstances – or hers. The way he spoke, the careful crafting of his sentences, it was all part of the persona, the polished facade of the CEO.
But she knew a different version, a version that had held her with a raw intensity she hadn’t known was possible. The memory still sent a shiver down her spine, a dangerous warmth spreading through her veins despite her terror.
She immediately looked down, refusing to give him the satisfaction of knowing that his words affected her.
Another hand went up. This time it belonged to a young man in the front row whose carefully gelled hair looked as though he had spent considerably more time styling it than studying the syllabus.
“Professor Grant, how much will class participation contribute to our final grade?”
Alexander’s attention settled on him. “A significant portion. Mr…?”
The young man’s shoulders straightened. “Davis, sir. Charles Davis.”
“Mr. Davis.” Alexander picked up the marker and turned toward the board.
“I expect thoughtful engagement, not the regurgitation of facts. You should be prepared to defend your opinions, challenge assumptions, and contribute something meaningful to the discussion.”
He wrote three words on the board. Think. Challenge. Defend.
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