Master Class: An Alpha Billionaire Romance (+ Bonus Book 'Silent Daughter 1')

by Linnea May

  I feel transported back to the day in his office months ago, when he humiliated me by bringing me to the edge of orgasm without following through, sending me out like a dog with his tail between his legs. The shame and frustration of that day have never gone completely away, even after all the wonderful times we’ve had together since. I know that being handled and controlled by him in this way is a huge part of the appeal for me, but when it casts its shadows on the things that are unrelated to what we do in the bedroom, it gives me a bitter aftertaste.

  I feel so fucking betrayed. Did he plan this all along? Was this all part of his evil master plan to show me who’s boss? To punish me for the way I treated him when we first met? Could he really be that evil?

  I evade the remaining group of aspiring entrepreneurs and head for the stairs instead of the elevator, so that I can leave right away. When I jog down the first flight of stairs, I recognize his footfall on the steps behind me, closing in faster than I am able to descend each flight.

  “Lana!”

  It’s that commanding tone, the exact tone that only days ago would have had me on my knees within moments, my core throbbing with sick desire for degradation and the pleasure that comes with it.

  But it doesn’t work on me right now. Instead of obeying his command, I hurry up and make sure to fly down the stairs even faster than before.

  “Lana, you wait!” He adds, closing in on me. “You stop right now.”

  I don’t want to wait, but when his strong hand clasps around my right upper arm, I have no other choice but to stop and whirl around just as the first few tears are streaming down my face.

  “You asshole!” I snap at him. “You fucking ass-”

  “Hush!” He warns, widening his eyes and clenching his hand around my arm so much it hurts. “Calm down!”

  I bite my lip, glaring up at him while the tears keep coming. “How could you do this to me?”

  He shakes his head, his expression changing.

  “I didn’t do anything to you,” he says, his voice now soft and calm. “I told you before what I think about not including local business in your app. You knew I don’t like the idea the way you were going about it.”

  “Still, you should have backed me up!” I protest.

  “Why should I? Because you’re my girlfriend?” He asks.

  I’m dumbfounded. The fact that he just referred to me as his girlfriend sent a warm shiver through my heart. We never talked about us and what we are to each other, so hearing him call me his girlfriend is beyond exciting - if it weren’t for the circumstances.

  Our eyes lock onto each other and I can see in his that he’s equally caught off guard by his words. He clears his throat and loosens his grip around my arm.

  “Look, Lana,” he continues. “I don’t have much time now, because the next group is set to present right after you, but-”

  “Yeah, I’m sure you’ll give them your support! Let’s see if they agree to turn everything into another marketing platform like-”

  “Lana!” He interrupts, pulling me closer until I’m pressed against his muscular body, wrapped up in his incredible scent and his intense gaze. “Focus!”

  I shoot a glare up at him.

  “Nothing’s said and done,” he adds. “You’re not out of the game yet. But I told you: no special treatment on my part. I can’t invest in a project that I don’t support one hundred percent. Don’t you understand that?”

  My lips quiver as I suppress another wave of tears forcing their way out.

  “Why don’t you support my project a hundred percent?” I ask, my voice thin and whiny.

  “Because it’s not perfect,” he says. “Yet.”

  He casts a quick look upstairs.

  “Lana,” he says, turning back to me. “You have to trust me on this. I’m not doing anything to punish you. I believe in you and in your project. But I want it to be perfect, so I can stand behind it. It needs a little more work.”

  He locks me into place with his gaze.

  “I want you happy, and I want you to succeed,” he adds. “I want nothing more.”

  “Nothing more?” I ask, my voice still quivering.

  He clears his throat, casting another look back up the stairs. “I have to go back. We’ll talk later.”

  I’m too startled to move when he leans in for a kiss. It’s just a peck on the lips, but more than we’ve ever done while we were in public.

  My eyes follow him as he takes the stairs up to the eleventh floor, taking two steps at once. I’ve never seen him in a suit this exquisite before. He looks staggeringly handsome. I hate that, because I’m trying to be angry at him.

  But what if he’s right? I have to consider that, too, but I decide that now is not the right time to do so. I’m angry and tired and just want to get out of this place, out of his domineering presence and the world he lives and thrives in.

  A world that may have no room for me.

  The first thing I do when I return to my dorm is change into something comfortable. I hate formal clothing with a passion and let out a deep sigh of relief when I’m hugged by my comfortable sweatpants and matching sweater.

  Celia was out when I got back into the room, but returns just as I lay down on my bed, lounging with my kindle. Her appearance stresses me. I was hoping to get a few minutes by myself before I’d have to talk about the events of today.

  She beams at me. “How was it?”

  I sigh and tell her everything while she gets out of her many layers of winter clothes. I don’t leave out anything, as painful as it is to relive the humiliation Jackson put me through. While talking, I realize that having to share these things with Celia isn’t all that bad. It actually feels good to get them off my chest. This was the second time Jackson let me down big time, but at least I can talk about this one with another person and get a second opinion of what to think of his disappointing behavior.

  “He talked you down in front of everybody?” She exclaims when I’m done. “What an asshole!”

  “Right?” I agree, sitting up on my bed with my legs dangling over the edge. “Though, he didn’t exactly talk me down. He just pointed out a few things that he didn’t like about it.”

  “Yeah but he could’ve told you before!”

  I lower my head, biting my lips as I think about what to say next. He did tell me beforehand, I just didn’t listen.

  “Well, to be honest, he did,” I admit to Celia. “But what he’s proposing would change my project too much in a direction that I just don’t like.”

  Celia tilts her head to the side quizzically. “Like how?”

  “You know how I want to introduce this social app, for neighbors and communities to get together and solve local problems, help each other out and make it easier to socialize without having to knock on every single door or rely on-”

  “Yeah, yeah, I know,” Celia interrupts me with a wave of her hand. “You don’t have to repeat your speech, I’ve heard it before. But what was Mr. Perfect’s objection?”

  “He wants me to include local businesses,” I say. “You know, like food stores, barber shops, bakers, that kind of thing.”

  “And?”

  “Well, he said that local businesses are just as much part of a community as the people who live there, which is true. But,” I clear my throat, hesitating for a moment before I continue. I’m repeating his exact words as if they were my own. As if I believed in them myself. “I mean. He said that they could also function as financial support, because they could pay for advertisement on the app. You know, make people aware of their existence or special offers they may have at the moment.”

  “Or create special offers for locals,” Celia adds, raising her hand.

  “Um, yeah, maybe even that,” I say.

  She looks at me, folding her arms in front of her chest and raising her left eyebrow. “And you don’t like the idea, because…?”

  “I don’t want this to turn into an advertising platform,” I explain. “If all peopl
e find on there are ads for supermarkets or some other shit trying to convince them to buy stuff they don’t need, it’s just gonna be annoying and will lose it initial purpose, you know?”

  “Mhm,” Celia makes, nodding. “But couldn’t you add some kind of limitation to that? Like categories or limits on how often the stores are allowed to advertise on there or something. Or let users limit its visibility or something?”

  I skewer her with a look. “Are you agreeing with him?”

  Celia raises her hands in defense. “No, I’m not saying what he did was right or anything. Just that his objection might be something to think about. A little. Maybe.”

  She shrugs, grinning at me helplessly. “I mean, he’s an expert after all.”

  “But it’s my project!” I insist. “And I don’t like the idea, at all!”

  “Fine,” she says, frowning at me. “All I’m saying is that there might be a way around it, you know. A way for you to shape the project in a way that makes both of you happy.”

  “Both of us,” I whisper. She makes it sound as if this was a joint venture between him and me, and she might have a point there. After all, if it wasn’t for him, I’d never come up with a real proposal in the first place, I’d never have been at this presentation today and I wouldn’t even think about doing anything other than to follow in my family’s footsteps. Footsteps that may not fit my size at all.

  “I’m gonna grab a bite to eat,” Celia says. “You wanna come with me?”

  I’m inclined to shake my head no, but my stomach is furiously growling. I haven’t had a bite to eat all day, because I was so nervous due to the presentation. Maybe that’s why I’m feeling so shitty right now. Food may help me to see things from a different perspective.

  Or at least help with that nauseating feeling that keeps me from thinking straight.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  LANA

  I don’t know when I can expect an answer from the committee, but with every day that passes without hearing anything from them, I lose more and more hope.

  Jackson tries to contact me several times. I was going to give him the silent treatment once again, but I know him too well to know that this won’t work on him. If I don’t reply to his calls and messages, he will just end up at my door again, so there’s no escaping him.

  Rather than ignoring his attempts of contacting me, I write him a single message with very clear wording, asking him to leave me alone for a while and give me some time to think about what happened.

  Of course, he doesn’t content himself with that and bombards me with messages, saying that the presentation had nothing to do with us and that I shouldn’t let it get between our relationship.

  A relationship, he calls it. I don’t know what to think of that.

  I don’t reply to his messages, and hope that he will get the hint and leave me alone. I asked for a few days, that’s all. He should give me that.

  Roughly a week after the presentation, I’m starting to get anxious, about the committee and about Jackson. The more time passes, the stronger the pressure of being confronted with either of them - or both - grows.

  Without telling anyone, I’ve started to play around with the idea of including Jackson’s input. I don’t want to do it the exact same way he suggested, but rather - try to find a way around it, thinking of Celia’s suggestions of putting limitations on the way businesses can advertise on my app. I feel like I’m making headway with it, but there’s no point in pursuing this, if I get rejected by the committee. The thought of them saying no and not having the support I need to make this a reality, weakens my motivation, but it doesn’t kill it off entirely.

  Maybe I should contact Jackson just to know when I might hear from them. He said there’d be no special treatment - but does that include giving me mundane information such as this?

  The question of whether I should contact him or not resolves on its own when I find him in front of my dorm once again, sitting on the exact same bench one evening when I’m walking home from a late shift at the library.

  A part of me is happy to see him. The part that is about to fall in love with this attractive man. The sensual part, that misses our time together. My body aches for him just as much as my mind does.

  He’s wearing a thick coat with a light fur collar and black leather gloves. His dark hair is hidden beneath a gray beanie that makes him look younger than he is. He’s so handsome that looking at him almost makes me angry.

  “I told you I need time,” I say in place of a welcome. “Why can’t you leave me alone when I ask you to-”

  “Because I can’t,” he interrupts me. “And because I don’t want to. I told you I’m not into silly games, Lana. I’m too old for that shit - and so are you.”

  I huff.

  “Besides,” he says, rising from the bench. “I miss you.”

  He approaches me, while I stand dumbfounded in front of him, my mouth slightly opened as if I was about to speak and my eyes glued on him as he closes in on me.

  He places his hands on my shoulders, his signature move to calm me down and draw me in. But I don’t want to make things that easy for him.

  “Fuck, Jackson, I-”

  “I’m not here to kidnap you again,” he says. “Even though I’d love to fuck you senseless. I miss you. I miss your body. I miss you quivering beneath me. That beautiful body of yours belongs in my hands, you know that.”

  I blush at his words and try to ignore the warm throbbing they evoke in my core. Why is it so easy for him to seduce me that way. I feel like wax in his hands, melting beneath his touch and yearning for him to take me, control me, overwhelm me with surreal pleasure.

  “What then?” I utter, trying to hide the effect his words have on me. “What do you want?”

  “I want to tell you about the state of affairs in regard to your proposal,” he says.

  My heart stops. I stare up at him, scared of what he might say next.

  “They’re undecided,” he says, neither lifting nor crushing my hopes. I remain in that terrible limbo that’s been my companion for the past week.

  “What does that mean? Undecided?” I ask, biting my lower lip to stop it from quivering.

  “It means you still stand a chance,” he says. “Depending on how you do in the recall round.”

  I look up at him. He’s smiling.

  “Recall round?” I ask. “What’s that?”

  “It’s a second chance we grant to all the proposals that showed potential, but were not quite there yet. The kind of proposals that went out after their first presentation with two voices for them and three voting against them.”

  “I could’ve had three for me if-”

  “But you didn’t,” he interrupts. “And I told you I won’t give you any special treatment. I wouldn’t do you a favor by doing so.”

  “Yeah, but why does it feel that you’re even stricter with me than with anyone else?”

  He frowns at me. “What makes you think that?”

  “I don’t know,” I say. I really don’t. After all, I don’t know how he reacted to all the other proposals

  “There were quite a few projects that I flat out rejected,” Jackson says as if he heard my thoughts. “Lana, I really like your idea, and I would love to see it happen. Trust me.”

  “But you’ll only approve it if I do it your way,” I assume grimly.

  He shakes his head. “Not necessarily. If you find a good way to do it without my suggestion, go ahead and prove me wrong. I would love to hear it.”

  He squeezes my shoulders.

  “Remember what I told you at the very first lecture: Failure is part of the game,” he says. “You just have to get back up.”

  I nod. “How much time do I have?”

  “A week,” he says. “I arranged this date as early as possible, because I know you have to study for your finals soon.”

  “A week?” I repeat. “That’s still pretty tough.”

  He smirks at me. “Not too tough fo
r my girl, I’m sure.”

  My girl.

  The words resonate through me like a beautiful chorus, filling me with elation.

  “Okay,” I say. “I’ll try.”

  “Good,” he says. He lets go of my shoulders and scans the area around us. There’s no one in our direct proximity right now, but I know what he’s thinking, because I’m thinking it, too.

  “I’d love to kiss you right now,” he whispers. “But that will have to wait.”

  We exchange one last smile instead, before he dismisses himself, once again reassuring me that I can do this.

  I hope he’s right.

  That night, I sit down in my dorm and start working on my second chance, consulting with Celia, the only person who supports and knows about my project other than Jackson.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  JACKSON

  I haven’t seen Lana outside of class since our last conversation. She didn’t ask for any more help and I thought it best for her to do this on her own. While I want her to succeed, I want her to do it herself, at least when it comes to molding the idea and drafting the business plan.

  Only three projects have been invited to return for today’s callbacks, and Lana is the first to present. When she walks through the door, I can barely keep myself from walking up to her and forcing a kiss on her trembling lips. Or from making her orgasm right on that table. It would be so easy, too, because she’s wearing an endearing pencil skirt paired with her white blouse, looking so innocent and all business.

  I hope she has the rest of the day off, because I desperately want to rip that blouse apart and have my way with her.

  She said I’m too good for her. This wonderfully strong and troubled girl. She has no idea what those words meant to me. Years ago, it would have been the opposite. I wasn’t good enough for anybody, let alone a girl like her. She was of the same opinion when we first met a few months ago, but she was willing to be convinced otherwise. Letting me in, listening to me was against everything she thought she knew. I saw her struggling through her journey.

  Now she’s standing in front of us, fighting a battle she hasn’t even considered an option before we met.