Surviving The Ice Prince's Love Algorithm

The library air was stale, smelling of old paper and industrial floor cleaner. Autumn kept her spine rigidly straight, ignoring the burning ache in her shoulder from the heavy tote bag.

She navigated through the endless rows of mahogany bookshelves, following the system's internal map toward the secluded study rooms in the back.

Through the glass wall of Study Room 4, she saw him.

Harrison Jennings sat perfectly centered at the rectangular table. His posture was unnervingly straight, his dark hair styled without a single strand out of place. He was staring down at the silver Patek Philippe watch on his left wrist.

As Autumn pushed the glass door open, his brow twitched-a microscopic tightening of the skin. The air pressure in the small room felt instantly heavier.

Autumn walked to the chair opposite him and pulled it out. She forced her movements to be slow, deliberate, hiding the frantic racing of her pulse. She sat down, placing the heavy tote bag on the floor.

Harrison slowly lifted his gaze. His eyes were a pale, icy gray-blue. There was absolutely no warmth in them. They looked like camera lenses focusing on a target.

"You are exactly three seconds outside the acceptable arrival window," his voice was a flat, clinical baritone.

Autumn's chest tightened. The sheer absurdity of the statement made her want to scream, but the coldness in his tone froze the reaction in her throat.

Target tolerance dropping. Rectify immediately, ACE's alarm blared in her skull.

Autumn forced the corners of her mouth up into a tight, professional curve. "My apologies," she said, keeping her voice level. "I miscalculated the wind resistance crossing the main quad."

Harrison didn't blink. He didn't smile at the obvious lie. He simply reached out and slid a single sheet of crisp white paper across the polished table.

Autumn looked down. It was a printed schedule. The next two hours were broken down into precise, five-minute intervals. There were even designated two-minute blocks labeled Hydration.

Her throat closed up. She nodded stiffly, reaching into her tote bag to pull out the books.

She hauled the two massive textbooks onto the table with a heavy thud.

Harrison's eyes darted to the covers. His gaze swept over the titles like a barcode scanner.

Instantly, the temperature in the room plummeted. The microscopic twitch in his brow deepened into a hard, unforgiving line.

"Where is the core case law reference manual?" he demanded, his voice dropping a fraction of an octave.

Autumn's mind went entirely blank. She stared at the books she had blindly grabbed from the desk. Macroeconomic Theory and Advanced Jurisprudence. Neither was a case law manual.

Critical error. Relationship agreement termination imminent, ACE screamed in her head. The red text flashed so brightly it blurred her vision.

Harrison smoothly closed his laptop. The soft click sounded like a judge's gavel. He folded his hands perfectly on top of the closed lid, staring at her with clinical detachment.

"If you are incapable of executing basic academic preparation," Harrison stated, his voice devoid of any inflection, "I do not see how you meet the parameters required for an elite partnership."

He placed his hands on the armrests of his chair, preparing to stand up. He was going to walk out. He was going to terminate the agreement.

The image of her own body dissolving into a pile of corrupted digital code flashed behind Autumn's eyes. Raw, primal terror hijacked her nervous system.

Before her brain could process the action, her hand shot across the table.

Her fingers clamped down hard around Harrison's left wrist.

Harrison's entire body went rigid. The muscles under her palm turned to stone. His gray-blue eyes snapped wide open, flashing with a sudden, violent mixture of shock and absolute revulsion.

He violently jerked his arm back.

The force of his movement yanked her forward, nearly slamming her chest against the edge of the table. He scrambled backward, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. He looked at his wrist as if she had just injected him with battery acid.

Autumn froze, her hand still hovering in the empty air over the table. The silence in the room was deafening.

Harrison shoved his hand into the inner pocket of his tailored blazer and ripped out a packet of antibacterial wipes. He tore the plastic open with shaking fingers. He pulled out a wipe and began scrubbing his wrist.

He scrubbed with frantic, mechanical aggression. The harsh chemical smell of alcohol flooded the small room. He pressed so hard the skin on his wrist instantly turned a angry, raw red.

Autumn watched, horrified, as he repeated the motion, his breathing shallow and fast. It wasn't just anger. It was a clinical, pathological panic.

Target emotional data corrupted. Forced exit sequence initiating, ACE warned.

Logic wasn't going to save her. Elite parameters were useless now. She had broken his core rule.

Autumn dug her fingernails into her own palms until the pain brought tears to her eyes. She let the moisture pool, refusing to blink. She took a ragged, shaky breath, letting her shoulders slump forward, shattering the perfect posture.

"Harrison," she whispered.

Her voice cracked. It was thick, nasal, and dripping with raw, pathetic vulnerability.

The frantic scrubbing motion stopped.

Harrison froze, the crumpled, alcohol-soaked wipe pressed against his red skin. Slowly, mechanically, he lifted his head.

He stared at Autumn. He stared at her red-rimmed eyes, her trembling lower lip, and the tears threatening to spill over her lashes. He looked completely and utterly lost.