Married to My Strict Professor

"Rule #1: Never arrive late to his lecture. Rule #2: Never steal his cashmere sweaters. Rule #3: Never, under any circumstances, fall in love with your contractual husband."

Arriving seven minutes late to Professor Adrian Blackwood’s advanced seminar with a drenched coat and a ridiculous pigeon excuse was supposed to be the worst part of my week. Getting assigned a punitive five-thousand-word essay was merely his trademark cruelty. Then came the eviction notice. And then came the catastrophic hospital bill threatening my mother’s life. Drowning in debt and forty-eight hours away from dropping out of graduate school, I’m handed an impossible lifeline by the very man I swore I hated: A one-year marriage of convenience. Adrian needs a legitimate wife before his fortieth birthday to unlock his family's trust and block a predatory trustee from seizing his legacy. I need fifty thousand dollars yesterday to keep my family afloat. The contract is ironclad: separate bedrooms, strictly separate academic supervision, and a clean divorce the second the clock strikes day three hundred and sixty-six. Living with him is pure domestic warfare. He wakes up at 5:30 AM; I set my alarm for 5:31 out of spite. He demands museum-grade discipline; I invade his Beacon Hill townhouse with chaotic book towers, takeout pizza, and yellow duck pajamas. But behind his three-piece suits, lethal scowls, and razor-sharp critiques, my strict professor has a dangerously protective side. The custom oat lattes appearing every morning. The oversized knits quietly draped over my shoulders while I sleep. The fierce, terrifying way he shields me when university politics turn lethal. Breaking his rules was easy. Remembering that this was only supposed to be business? That might just ruin us both.