Chapter 8: Mr. Stark, Could You Please Keep Your Distance?

Summer's POV

Brandon's eyes never left my face as he replied, "Indeed, Professor. Though seeing Ms. Taylor's spirited appearance today, it seems she's already moved past that difficult time?"

That bastard. The subtle emphasis he put on 'difficult time' made my cheeks heat. Was he referring to the drugging incident or my public humiliation at The Plaza? Either way, the knowing look in his eyes made me want to throw something at his stupidly handsome face.

"Well," Grandpa's voice carried a hint of curiosity now. "Isn't that interesting?"

I could feel my carefully constructed composure cracking under Brandon Stark's intense gaze. The familiar comfort of Grandpa's study suddenly felt stifling, like the walls were closing in.

"Brandon," Grandpa's voice carried that particular warmth he reserved for his favorite students, "it's been too long since you've visited your old professor. And now that my granddaughter is back from Europe, this calls for a celebration." He turned to Parker, who still hovered near the doorway. "Parker, please prepare dinner. Brandon and Summer will both be joining us."

"Of course, Professor." Parker's expression remained perfectly professional, but I caught the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth. Great. Even Parker's in on whatever this is.

"Professor, I wouldn't want to impose—" I started, but Grandpa waved away my protest with the same gesture he'd probably used to dismiss countless academic arguments.

"Nonsense! Brandon, you must stay. Summer just got back from managing Fortune Corp's European division. She's still adjusting to the time difference, aren't you, dear?"

Brandon's dark eyes flickered to my face, and I fought the urge to fidget under his scrutiny. "Miss Taylor seems rather surprised to see me here."

"To be honest, Mr. Stark," I couldn't keep the edge from my voice, "finding out you're my grandfather's student is... unexpected."

One corner of his mouth lifted in that infuriating half-smile. "Do you think we have any reason to deceive you about this?"

"Brandon," Grandpa cut in before I could respond, his voice carrying a hint of pride, "this is the granddaughter I've mentioned so often. She followed in your footsteps at Columbia, you know. Graduated with honors, and now she's already an Executive Director at Fortune Corp."

I wanted to sink into the leather armchair and disappear. Was Grandpa actually bragging about me to Brandon Stark? The same Brandon Stark who'd seen me at my absolute worst just days ago?

"Her work with the European division has been particularly impressive," Grandpa continued, either oblivious to or deliberately ignoring my discomfort. "The quarterly reports show significant improvement under her management."

Brandon's expression remained unreadable, but something in his eyes made my skin prickle. "Indeed. Very... impressive."

"Well," Grandpa suddenly pushed himself up from his chair, "you young people should chat. I need to organize some important documents in my study."

What? My head snapped up. "Grandpa—"

"Summer, be a good host to Brandon. He's my most brilliant student, you know." With that parting shot, Grandpa disappeared through the study door, leaving me alone with the last person I wanted to be alone with.

The silence stretched between us, heavy with unspoken words. I could feel Brandon's gaze on me, as tangible as a physical touch. Don't fidget. Don't show weakness. "So, Mr. Stark," I kept my voice carefully neutral, "Which year were you Grandpa's student?" And how have I never heard about Brandon Stark being his student before?

He studied me for a moment, that hint of amusement playing at the corners of his mouth. "I graduated before you started. I was fifteen when I entered Columbia."

Fifteen? I tried not to let my surprise show, but failed miserably. "You were a child prodigy?" Of course he was. Because being the most powerful man on Wall Street wasn't impressive enough.

"The Professor didn't mention that either?" His voice held a note of genuine curiosity. "Interesting, considering how frequently he talks about you."

Something about the way he said it made me wonder what exactly Grandpa had been saying. Before I could pursue that thought, Brandon rose from his chair with that fluid grace that seemed to come so naturally to him. My pulse quickened as he moved to sit beside me on the antique Chesterfield sofa – much closer than strictly necessary.

God, this man. I fought the urge to bolt from the sofa like a startled deer. "Mr. Stark, could you please keep your distance?"

His dark eyes held mine with that unsettling intensity. Why does he have to look at me like that? Like he's trying to read every thought in my head. The weight of his gaze made my skin prickle with awareness.

"Professor Thompson clearly thinks highly of you. Perhaps we should get to know each other better, as he seems to wish."

Yeah, right. Because the CEO of Stark Group just happens to want to 'get to know' his old professor's granddaughter. The same granddaughter who's currently the talk of Wall Street for all the wrong reasons. I fought back a hysterical laugh. This whole situation felt like some bizarre dream - or nightmare.

"Mr. Stark." I kept my voice professionally detached despite our proximity, proud that it didn't betray the nervous flutter in my stomach. "I appreciate that you're my grandfather's former student, but that doesn't require us to become... acquainted." And I definitely don't need another Wall Street titan complicating my life right now.

A slight smile played at the corners of his mouth. "You're making assumptions about my intentions, Miss Taylor."

"And you're making assumptions about my interest in any sort of acquaintance," I countered, trying to maintain my composure despite how his presence seemed to fill the entire room. Why does he have to sit so close? The sofa's huge - there's literally no reason for him to be practically breathing down my neck. My fingers twisted nervously in my lap, betraying the calm I was trying so hard to project. Focus, Summer. Don't think about that night. Don't think about waking up in his clothes, or the way he carried you, or... I cut that thought off abruptly. Nope. Not going there.

He moved even closer to me.

What the hell? I pressed my hands against his chest, trying to push him away.