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.