"As Miss Janet told you I am Noah L. Brandon, you can call me whatever you please but professor is out of the options–"
"Are you even a professor?" Someone calls out, he turned to the direction of the voice and I think he would send the person out of the class but he doesn't, instead he smiled, more like his not ruined side of the face lifts up a bit.
"First off, don't ever interrupt me and yes I am a professor but don't address me as that." He finished with a nod of his head.
"Then doctor or Mr Brandon?" This was a female voice and I fight the urge to roll my eyes. Sultry and flirty, none other than Amanda, the class *cough* hoe.
"Mr. Brandon please." She smiles I'm sure, probably blew him a kiss or she winked at him.
Not that I saw or anything like that but I just presume you know, I mean she could do it, it's not above her. I don't sound jealous okay.
"What does the L stand for?" He looked like he was considering it but from the unnatural thoughtful look on his face, I know he's not about to answer that question, and I was proven right when he replied.
"That shouldn't be your concern."
He said something that if you put a gun to my forehead and ask me to repeat even a single word I won't be able to before starting his lessons.
What pulled me out of my thoughts was him talking about our test, yes the same one I flopped and ruined my life with.
I cross my fingers and hope he says he'll take another one.
"Before the unfortunate incident with Dr. Meeks, I was informed that he has given you the mid semester tests that will be graded for your finals." I suck in a breath at that, more bad news.
"Before I grade them, if you have any problem or have spoken to him–" He waved in the general, "then you can meet with me and we'll sort it out. Nothing can be changed once it's saved in the school files so please take note and meet me with any complaints before the week runs out."
That part was good and I sigh, it'll help my life if I do study this time and I can even go on my knees if it means he'll let me retake the test.
So help me God, I mutter under my breath watching his steady movements.
The class was okay in the sense that I did not pay attention, I did try my best but I couldn't with the thought of...well everything in my life.
Half able bodied, I walk out of the class and bump into someone.
"I am so sorry," I mutter stepping back, waiting for the tongue lashing.
My breath hitched in my throat when I saw who I bumped into.
Dear lord, save me.
THIRD POV
"Good morning Mr. Landon." A man in his late forties or early fifties greeted, watching his master that was looking out his window.
He turned letting go of the blinds that flittered light into the room and they were bathed in almost complete darkness.
None of them were fazed, already used to it.
The man held out an Armani suit with a sky blue shirt and a darker colored tie. His master that was standing with only a towel nodded to the bed.
"Is it plain and simple?" He asked, standing over a round table that held his cup of coffee.
"It's the most simple from your collection Mr. Landon." The man replied, his back straight.
"Okay, thank you Daryl." He left after a curt nod.
Landon peered at the outfit his valet had dropped on the bed, plain black, quite simple just like he'd instructed.
He took another sip of his coffee wondering why he agreed with his therapist to do this. He was fine with not being in the public eye but the man had insisted it would be good for him.
Not the scarred billionare, just a regular college professor who might've been a soldier and got wounded in the war, the fact is they won't know it's him and he would be relived from the identity of the man he has grown to hate.
He didn't want to be seen in public, people shy away from him in disgust, children ran scared of the monster he was, what made his therapist think it would work?
He was a monster and he liked being one, hidden away in his sanctuary of darkness.
George his cousin and PA had said he was dramatic. He pushed all that to the back of his mind because he believed George was deranged. He was the face of his company and a known playboy and ladies man, so to him all he knew was women and couldn't comprehend basic things.
All that had pushed him to his present predicament, a college professor with the name Noah L. Brandon, Brandon being his mother's maiden name, it seemed the best fit because if he wanted to keep it under wraps then that I'd the best, and Noah was his middle name that not much people know.
Getting the position had been quite easy, he was very much learned since he spent most of his time in online schools and getting more degrees since he doesn't go out, he was quite qualified for the job but there was no vacancy, and a few thousand dollars had fixed that.
He pulled the shirt on, looking away from his marred shoulder, the white skin there still repulsed him so he made sure to always keep it away from his line of vision. He buttoned up, taking care because fast movements still hurt in his shoulder.
He pulled the pants on an tucked the dress, put on a pair of circular onyx Montblanc cuff links. He picked the suit jacket but dropped it back, deciding he would look overdressed with all that, it was a lecture and not a suit party or whatever.
He brushed his hair back, every strand was tamed you would think he permed it before walking out.