Master Class: A Billionaire Romance

by Linnea May

  We’re playing with fire, both of us. He may not be a real professor at my university, but I’m sure he still needs to adhere to the same rules as everyone else. Relationships between students and teachers are strictly forbidden. This was one of many things we were told during our first week here. These rules don’t change, no matter how old you are, no matter how much time there is left before graduation, no matter how long the teacher in question will be part of the faculty.

  This is the first time I’ve ever broken the rules.

  And I love it.

  I don’t even know what we are. Are we involved in a relationship? We never talked about it, not during the night at the hotel, nor in the days following. He has my number now and I have his. I wasn’t the one to text first, he was. A silly smile spread across my face when I read the message. Short as it was, it still made my heart flutter because he asked to see me again.

  We’ve “seen” each other several times since then, always making sure that our dates are as far removed from campus as possible. I’ve been out with him so many nights that Celia has become suspicious. I excused myself by insisting that I had extra study sessions at the library, reminding her that finals are slowly creeping up on us.

  She doesn’t believe me. I could see it in her eyes and that hint of a cheeky grin that showed up on her face when I stuttered my excuse in front or her. She’s not stupid, but empathic. I appreciate her for not asking any nosy questions.

  I’ve tried to stay away from Jackson on campus as much as possible. We’re never seen together, not more than he’s seen talking to any other students. But today, I need his help. I need his advice on the project I’ve been working on since he planted the idea of going after financial funding in my head. I’ve been working on it ever since, taking away so much time from studying that I’m beginning to worry. This could be the dumbest thing I’ve ever done – or the best thing. I won’t know until I’ve tried, and I know I have to try. Jackson gave me the push I needed, and I know I’d regret it for the rest of my life if I didn’t go for this.

  But I need his help. I want to distinguish between our teacher-student relationship and the relationship that defines us outside the classroom, which is why I signed up on the sheet listing his consultation hours. I wonder if he’s confused to see my name on there, especially because we’re supposed to see each other tomorrow night. If he was, he never mentioned it.

  I’m waiting in front of his office, waiting for him to finish up with another student inside. I have no idea what other students might have to discuss with him, since he’s not grading us and barely ever gave us any assignments to work on. A flush of jealousy travels down my spine when I see that all the names on the list are female students.

  I’ve been waiting for about ten minutes when I see another girl from my class walking down the hallway. I don’t know her name, but she’s the girl who sat next to me during Jackson’s first lecture, the one who was so busy fixing her makeup. Our eyes meet for a split second, both acknowledging that we’ve seen each other before. She stops in front of the door and studies the list of names.

  “Are you Lana Harlington?” she wants to know, pointing to my name on the list.

  I nod. “Yes.”

  She sighs and rolls her eyes, before slumping down on a bench opposite me.

  “Guess it’s your turn next,” she says, sounding annoyed at my presence.

  I don’t know how to reply to that, so I just regard her with a shrug, ready to mind my own business, when she draws my attention back to her.

  “What do you even want from him?” she asks. “Weren’t you the one who was such a bitch during his first lecture?”

  Now I’m the one raising my eyebrows. “I wasn’t just bitching at him, I-“

  “Whatever you wanna call it,” she cuts me off. “What business do you have with him now?”

  “That’s none of your business,” I retort. “I could ask you the same question.”

  A smug grin appears on her face, and I notice that she looks quite dolled-up, even more so than that day she sat next to me.

  Even more so than I did when I walked up to Jackson in that skirt he let me wear after telling me to take off every other item of clothing. My heart races, and I hope to God that she doesn’t see the blush on my face when I recall that day.

  “I just wanted to have a word with him,” the girl says, even though I never asked why she was there. “Alone.”

  She winks at me, and my heart pinches.

  “What are you trying to insinuate?”

  She giggles and waves me off, as if I was a dumb little kid. “Nothing, nothing. You wouldn’t understand.”

  We both flinch when the door to Jackson’s office opens abruptly, and I find myself jumping up in an instant. Always the good girl, always ready to please.

  Another girl from my class scurries out of the room, casting Jackson a coy smile before she says goodbye, completely ignoring me as she walks past me.

  I’m almost disappointed to see how nonchalantly he greets me when I show up in front of him. The girl who’s been waiting with me has her eyes locked on us, clearly hoping for Jackson to divert his attention in her direction, but he doesn’t.

  “Miss Harlington,” he says, beckoning for me to step inside his office. I follow his gesture, suppressing a telltale smile as I do. The last time he closed that door behind me was when I undressed in front of him and he toyed with me just to leave me frustrated and humiliated.

  Even now, my core flutters at the memory.

  He closes the door with noticeable force, but he doesn’t lock it before he turns toward me, fixating on me with a stern expression. We stand, frozen, staring longingly at each other.

  “I was surprised to see your name on the signup sheet,” he says in a voice so low that I can barely hear him. “I hope you’re not here to cancel our date tomorrow.”

  I shake my head. “No, I just needed to talk to you. About my business plan, the project. I thought it would be best to keep this separated from our-“

  “Not possible,” he interrupts, closing in on me with two wide steps and taking my face between both his hands. His lips plunder mine with fierce desire. I’m so surprised by his sudden approach that I forget to breathe. As always, my body reacts to him before my mind does. My chest is heaving with lust, spurred on by my furious pulse, as I give into his kiss. I’ve never felt like this before, so desired, so hungry for more. His kiss is so possessive and greedy, not allowing me to retreat, even if I wanted to.

  I’m panting when he lets go of me, and I have to refrain from reaching out to him. He’s always the one in control and barely lets me touch him, even though there’s nothing I’d like to do more in moments like this.

  “I can’t do anything about it as long as we are who we are to each other in public,” he says, making me shiver when he graces along the side of my face with his fingertip. “But you’re my good girl, always and everywhere, my little slut. If I could, I’d taste you every time you’re in my presence.”

  I blush at his words, and my excitement is only fueled by the knowledge that one of my classmates is sitting right outside the door, a girl who’s been swooning over Jackson for far longer than I have. Yet, I’m the one he wants.

  Or so I hope.

  “Is this the way you greet all the female students who sign up to see you?” I ask, sounding bitchier than intended. The thought has haunted me for a while, but I never let myself believe it.

  The frown on his face makes me regret my words immediately. He doesn’t just look angry or annoyed at my subtle accusation. It’s more than that. He looks disappointed.

  “Is this what you think is going on here?” he asks. “Do you really think I’m taking every chance I can get to fuck as many random college girls as possible?”

  I lower my eyes, conscious of guilt. “I’m sorry, I-”

  “Stop concerning yourself with such nonsense, Lana,” he cuts me off, placing the tip of his finger below my chin to tilt my fac
e up to his. “I’m not a skirt chaser. I prefer to focus on one girl at a time, one submissive, one pretty little thing to play with.”

  He leans in for another kiss, gentle and careful this time, barely more than a peck on the lips.

  Our eyes meet when he withdraws, a reassuring smile on his handsome face. He cocks his head to the side and the smile widens before he adds, “One girl to tame.”

  I pout at him. “Tamed!”

  He chuckles, placing his hands on my shoulders in a possessive manner that’s unique to him. It surprises me to realize how right all of this feels, how natural. He was a stranger, an odd guest lecturer just a few weeks back, a man who stirred my insides with more than just his incredible looks.

  I still can’t believe he’s this infatuated with me, but it really seems to be true. The way he looks at me, the way he touches me, the way he went after me when I tried to distance myself from him. It should leave little room for doubt, but yet it does.

  He squeezes my shoulders slightly, tilting his head to the side.

  “You said you wanted to talk to me,” he says. “About your proposal?”

  I nod. “Yes, I need your advice.”

  He smiles and lets go of my shoulders, beckoning me to take a seat.

  “All right, baby girl. Let’s see how I can help.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  JACKSON

  Lana never ceases to amaze me. I knew she was smarter than most from the moment I met her, but I didn’t expect her to be more than book-smart. I thought she was merely a good girl, a diligent student who knows what her teachers want to hear from her. Obedient, hardworking and strict, without an ounce of imagination.

  That assessment couldn’t be further from the truth. Beneath that diligent striver is a creative mind that’s just waiting to be summoned. It’s obvious that the startup idea she’s sketching right now didn’t just pop up a few days ago when she first mentioned it to me. She has obviously been thinking about this for quite a while now, and while her business plan shows some of the typical weaknesses of a rookie, I’m quite impressed with how well thought out the idea is in general.

  She blushes and smiles like a little girl when I praise her efforts, and nods with attentive focus when I voice criticism. Both expressions make me crave her even more. It’s rare for a woman to listen to me, actually listen to me when I talk about what I know best. I’m used to adoration, silly giggles, and that apathetic stare of lust when I play with them, but I’m hardly ever regarded as a conversational partner to be taken seriously. Plus, most women I’ve been with never cared about what I do. They cared for my money, my looks, and the things I did to them, but they never cared who I was aside from that.

  I watch as Lana eagerly scribbles down note after note as I tell her what to consider and what to change about her proposal. She moves the pen with such vigor that it almost leaves holes in the paper, her eyes flying along the words while she absentmindedly tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.

  Lana has been different from the beginning. She never looked at me like the other girls in her class did. She glared at me with that spiteful arrogance I’ve seen on so many less pleasant faces before. She was presumptuous, audacious, and smug when she confronted me. It was a relief to see that she’s not immune to my appeal on women, but she may take more from me than I’ve ever been willing to give before.

  “Thank you,” she says when we conclude our meeting, and the sincerity in her words is palpable, only emphasized by the bright smile she adds.

  “I can’t wait to see the final result,” I tell her, as I lead her to the door.

  I place my hand on the door knob, but pause before opening it, wrapping my arm around her and pulling her close for a kiss.

  She gasps in surprise, but melts into my arms within moments, our lips connecting. A red glow is blossoming on her cheeks when I let go of her, and she’s about to say something, but I interrupt her by opening the door, exposing us to the world outside.

  Lana casts one last coy smile at me, before hurrying out of my office, pressing her notebook against her chest as if to protect herself.

  My eyes linger on her for only a moment before I pull myself away, diverting my attention to the girl who’s been waiting outside my office even before I called Lana in.

  The girl jumps up from her seat as soon as I open the door, regarding Lana with a spiteful glare as she walks past her. She’s one of those pretty girls, the kind of girl who has always been popular in school, the kind of girl that every boy wants to date, and every girl wants to be. Her blonde hair is curled in elaborate waves, framing a doll-like face, painted on with a little too much color for my taste.

  She bats her fake eyelashes at me when she follows my gesture to enter my office. The way she brushes along my chest when she walks past me is not coincidental. I glance at the sheet outside my door to find out her name.

  “Miss Crew?” I ask, assuming she is the one listed right under Lana.

  The girl nods and sits down in the chair opposite my desk. She’s wearing a very short skirt, and makes sure to expose as much as possible of her naked upper thigh to me when she crosses her legs.

  I suppress an annoyed sigh when I sink down in my chair behind the desk. Girls like her may be a treat on the eyes, but they’re so easy and transparent that I don’t even have to fake a lack of interest. I’ve had my share of girls like her, and I know she has very little to offer me. They’re all the same.

  “What can I do for you, Miss Crew?” I ask.

  She smiles at me and cocks her head to the side.

  “Well, Professor Portland-“

  “I’m not a professor,” I correct her. “Mr. Portland is fine.”

  She clears her throat. “Yes, of course.”

  Her eyes scurry around the room as if she was searching for something to hold on to. I watch her with growing impatience, hoping that she’s not merely here to make eyes at me. I can still taste Lana on my lips and the thought of this little hussy thinking she could take her place turns my stomach upside down.

  “I was wondering,” she says after a while. “I’ve read your book – thoroughly. And it made me curious.”

  “How so?” I ask, when she pauses.

  She regards me with a sugar-sweet smile, seductively playing with a curly strand of hair as she continues.

  “Mr. Portland, I’ve always been fascinated by men like you,” she purrs. “Smart, successful businessmen. I admire men like you, men who build an empire for themselves, men who thrive, overcoming as much as you have…”

  She bats her long lashes at me and bites her lower lip. “It’s very sexy to me.”

  I look at her through narrowed eyes, leaning back in my chair and folding my hands in my lap before I deign her with a reply she didn’t expect.

  “Miss Crew, is there anything you’d like to discuss that has something to do with our class?”

  Her eyes flicker and I can tell that she was hoping for a different response. She thought it would be so easy. All she needed was a few minutes alone with me, an opportunity to flaunt her assets at me, to let me know that I could have her – and I would take her, just like that. I can’t even blame her, because I know that most men in my situation wouldn’t want to resist, not a girl like her.

  She’s not used to getting rejected, and she’s not used to fighting for something she wants, which will make it easy for me to put her in her place.

  “Well, I thought we could maybe… get to know each other a little better?”

  Her voice is high-pitched, feigning innocence as she presents me with an offer that is anything but. Her hand is traveling down her deep neckline, tracing along the ruffled hem and slightly moving it aside to grant me a better view at the curves of her breasts.

  So predictable.

  I shake my head. “Miss Crew, if there’s nothing class-related you’d like to discuss with me, then I’m afraid I will have to ask you to leave.”

  Her eyes widen in surprise. “But Mr. Portland
, don’t you think we could-“

  “Like I said,” I cut her off. “We have nothing to discuss unless it’s related to your class with me.”

  She sighs and her hand falls down into her lap.

  “Is that what all the girls want from you?” she asks, spite underlining her words. “Talking about class work?”

  I nod. “Students who sign up for my consultation hour usually seek advice for class-related work, yes.”

  “Her, too?” she probes.

  “Who?”

  She rolls her eyes. “Harlington, the one who was in here before me.”

  I frown at her. “Yes, of course.”

  “I have to say, I did not like the way she talked to you during your first lecture,” Miss Crew points out, enunciating every syllable. “It was so obnoxious, and certainly not the way to address a professor.”

  “I’m not a professor,” I remind her again. “And as I’ve mentioned before, Miss Crew, if there’s nothing schoolwork-related you’d like to discuss with me, I would like to ask you to leave.”

  I regard her with a stern look. “My time is valuable. Please don’t waste it for such nonsense.”

  The girl glares at me, finally realizing that there’s nothing here for her to gain. She straightens up and clears her throat.

  “Fine,” she says, trying to hide the fact that she’s been defeated.

  To my relief, she jumps up from her seat a few seconds later, casting me a final look of disdain before turning around and marching out the door without another word.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  LANA

  I don’t think I’ve ever been this nervous in my entire life. I haven’t slept in days. I lay awake at night and stare at the ceiling, alternating between counting the remaining hours for me to stay in bed until I have to get up for class, and mentally testing new ideas on how I could improve my project, and moreover, its presentation.

  Jackson has helped me as much as he could, providing me not only with market insight and his expert knowledge, but also with the emotional support I wouldn’t get anywhere else, especially not from my family. They still don’t know anything about this. As far as they are concerned, I’m working on my master’s thesis, getting ready for the next level of my education, and talking to different professors as potential Ph.D advisers.