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As if I'm her fucking dog.
I do not respond as I close the door behind us and follow with clenched teeth.Two words.This woman needed only two words to piss me off. How could I ever think that I wanted to kiss her?
But I won't let her drive me crazy. I'm a grown man who's capable of holding back his emotions. I need a good tutor, and even if she pisses me off, I'll handle it.
I follow Serena and watch her from behind. Nothing has changed from yesterday: same high ponytail, an oversized sweatshirt, although another one, dark leggings, and massive sneakers. She also isn’t wearing makeup again, even though she knew that I was coming in advance, which means she isn't trying to impress me. That is also something new to me.
And here's this feeling again, something deep down in my abdomen, and it doesn't look like a simple desire; it's something different. I want not only to have this girl in my bed. I want to make her scream my name, begging me to let her come.
I shake my head to wipe away that thought as if it would help.
We walk onto the terrace overviewing the garden and downtown Los Angeles. The view is fantastic. This house stands even higher on the hills than mine. And the pool is located right next to the cliff.
I thought there would be other people around, maybe some of the staff or a pool guy, but I see no one except for us. It's infrequent for Beverly Hills not to have a maid on a daily basis, especially with a house this size.
"The time you are late for is not extended." Serena speaks again, interrupting my thoughts and taking a seat at the table with a laptop and a stack of books on it. "I knew you wouldn't bring a laptop," she scoffs and extends a notebook and pen for me. "And I will still charge for the minutes you are late."
She doesn't even look at me as she speaks, takes her cell, and puts it on mute, facing it against the table.
I smirk. "You're speaking as if I'm hours late. It's only been fifteen minutes."
And then she finally looks up at me. "I have another job, Astor," she retorts in irritation, "and I'm not going to be late because of you."
She pulls her lips into a line and furrows her eyebrows, trying to look formidable. She's pretty adorable when she pretends to be angry, with those plump cheeks and full rose lips. She looks like a child who wants his parents to take him seriously.
"Why do you even need a job with a house like this?" I smile, raising an eyebrow, satisfied with how she’s losing control little by little. "Were you a bad girl, and you're being punished?"
I wink and give her one of my most charming smiles, expecting her to relax a little and maybe to tell her my story—that my father also forced me to have these lessons.
But Serena simply snorts in response. "This isn’t my house, genius. I’m just staying here."
I'm so surprised at how she reacts that I simply stare at her in silence.
The first woman ever who did not smile back at me when I gave her a smile.
For a moment, my gaze is caught on her eyes: huge, deep brown, unbelievably beautiful, with lashes so long they look like they're fake.
As we look at each other, I do not say a word; I'm not even blinking, unable to look away. For a couple of moments, it seems like we're not breathing.
"I hope I made that clear." She tries to sound confident, but it doesn’t quite work. Her cheeks flush bright red.
She swallows and lowers her gaze, just like when she asked,Why do you want me?and gets even redder.
I smile. I've seen how girls lose control when they're with me. But looking at how Serena blushes is another level of satisfaction. And I want her to lose control more often when she's with me.
"Okay then, no delays, I get it," I say after a long pause and take the notebook she handed me. "And you can call me Dom."
She doesn't respond, but something deep down inside tells me that this is going to be my favorite lesson from now on.
Chapter Four
Serena
"The writer highlights the theme of social class throughout the novel, particularly in terms of Emma's relationship with..." I stop speaking when Dominic's phone beeps for the fifth time in the last ten minutes.
I take a deep breath. It's only our second lesson, and I don't even know how we're going to manage until the final exam—which is only two weeks away.
He takes a look at me, raising an eyebrow. "What? I didn't even touch the phone this time like you said."
