Chapter 125: No Fake Money, No Fake Girlfriend

Emerald’s POV

I finished washing the dishes and left them on the rack to dry before heading back to Michael’s study.

When I entered, I found Michael standing behind his desk with his phone in his hand. He was typing something, and the moment he noticed me, he lifted his head and smiled.

"I am texting Adrian to get us something for lunch. What would you like to have?"

I walked over to the desk and took my usual seat while he settled back into his own chair.

"I honestly have no idea. I had breakfast about four hours ago, and I just finished enjoying a very wholesome brunch. I do not think I will be hungry anytime soon."

"I understand." He glanced at his phone before looking back at me. "Would you mind if I made the choice for you?"

I chuckled and shook my head. "It is beginning to look like you have an agenda to overfeed me today."

He did not deny it. Instead, he chuckled as though he found my accusation amusing.

"Would you prefer a salad bowl, then?"

I immediately nodded. "Yes. I think I need to lose some weight."

Michael laughed. "Which weight do you have that you need to lose?"

I looked down at myself and gave my body a quick inspection before shifting my attention back to him.

"Since you started taking care of my meals and sending food to my dorm, I feel like I have added some weight."

His laughter stopped.

He placed his phone on the desk and frowned slightly, as though I had just presented him with a serious medical concern.

I watched him look me over.

At first, his eyes remained on my face. Then they moved slowly down to my neck, across my shoulders, and lower.

I followed his gaze. He was looking at my boobs.

I stared at him in disbelief, but he didn’t even seem embarrassed in the slightest.

Rather, he stood up and walked around the desk until he was beside me. He leaned against the edge of the desk and continued his very serious inspection.

"Did you have to walk all the way over here for that?" I asked.

He gave me a solemn look and nodded. "I need to be accurate with my diagnosis."

I didn’t know whether to laugh or be offended.

His gaze moved over me again before settling on my stomach.

Before I could figure out what he was thinking, he reached out and placed his hand against my stomach.

"Hope you don’t mind?"

His palm was large and warm against me.

Something strange happened the instant he touched me. I felt a faint sensation run from his palm through my body, almost like a small current passing beneath my skin.

I barely had time to understand what I was feeling before he withdrew his hand.

"You still have a flat tummy," he announced. "You have not added the kind of weight you are talking about."

Then his eyes moved upward again. "And your breasts have not increased in size either."

Instantly, heat rushed into my face.

I stared at him, completely stunned. The nerve of this man.

I lifted my hand and reached toward his thigh, intending to slap him, but he shifted out of my reach so quickly that my hand caught nothing but air.

He laughed as he walked back to his chair.

"How can you say things like that so shamelessly?" I couldn’t help asking as my gaze followed him.

Michael sat down and picked up his phone again as though nothing unusual had happened.

I stared at him. "You are still my professor, you know."

He lifted his eyes to meet mine. "And have you forgotten that you are my girlfriend?"

I immediately corrected him. "Fake girlfriend."

He smirked, then said to me in a lower tone, "I did not give you fake money, remember?"

I stared at him. For a second, I did not understand what he meant.

Then it clicked.

He was basically telling me that because the money he had given me was real, the relationship attached to it was real too.

That wasn’t what we had agreed on.

Our arrangement was supposed to be a game. I would be his fake girlfriend until I repaid the money, and once I did, everything would end.

At least, that was what I understood.

I opened my mouth to remind him of that, but he spoke before I could.

"Do you prefer a Caesar salad, or should I ask Adrian to get you a pasta salad?"

I stared at him for another second.

He had just changed the subject as if we hadn’t been discussing whether I was gaining weight, as though he hadn’t inspected my body, touched my stomach, and then casually implied our relationship was real because the money involved was real.

I finally gave up trying to follow his train of thought. "Caesar salad."

He nodded, typed something into his phone, and then placed it back on the desk.

With that, he looked at me fully. "Now, it is time to continue with your tutoring."

My eyes stayed on him. I genuinely didn’t know what to say anymore.

How could he move on from moments like that so easily?

First, he had openly stared at my chest without the slightest embarrassment. Then he had walked over to me and touched my stomach as though he were conducting an actual examination.

After that, he had commented on my weight and even mentioned my chest as part of his ridiculous diagnosis.

And then there was his comment about the money.

I frowned slightly. Did he actually consider me his real girlfriend?

Did he think that was what we were now?

Was that why he had felt completely comfortable staring at me, touching my stomach, and making those shameless comments about my body?

I stared at him.

Michael had already opened the materials we had been studying before we went to the kitchen.

He did not look confused or embarrassed. And he certainly did not look like he had just said something capable of turning my thoughts upside down.

Instead, he calmly pointed to the section on the page. "Where were we?"