The billionaire's reluctant mistress

Chapter 12: Teach me

Chapter 12:

Every time recalling her last years of high school, Rachel felt regret. Those were the last truly peaceful days. She broke up with Liam at the beginning of her senior year and focused solely on her studies. While her friends were busy partying, smoking weed and exploring s*x, she volunteered at a children's shelter and spent most of her time improving her grades in class. For Rachel, grades meant nothing, but it could help her get into a good university, because great results were the only weapon of ordinary, not outstandingly gifted, students from small provinces to compete with other students. By the end of that year, three of the eight schools she applied to had sent her their acceptance letters. The letters contained all the important details about the curriculum, dormitory life, and major orientation.

Rachel remembered taking the letter and rushing into the house to tell her aunt the news. Aunt Rebecca was overjoyed. They treated her like a daughter and had already set aside a bit of money for her college years. With the check in her hand, Rachel's eyes filled with tears. She hugged Uncle Hardy and sobbed. The three of them had a quick visit to two of the three schools, and in the end Rachel chose Hodge Social Institute in South London. In fact, she always knew that she would come to London. Somehow, just hearing this name brought a feeling of extreme excitement in her heart.

Lyanna didn't go to college, like most of Rachel's peers, she chose to move to a nearby city and study hairdressing.

The day Rachel left, she and her aunts and uncles and close friends ate a hearty lunch and took her to the train station. Everyone said their goodbyes on the platform, and Rachel boarded the train with mixed emotions. She felt an overwhelmingly sharp pain in her heart because she knew she would miss her aunt and uncle yet she was also excited to start a new chapter in her life. In a completely new world, no less. As she sat in the window seat gazing at the world going by, she recalled the hut by Mald Lake, where Flynn had told her about the shops, the streets, the parks near his place in the west of London. She was eager to see what he had been talking about with her own eyes, wondering if she would meet him, and under what circumstances.

The first few months of college went by so quickly. Rachel whirled between starting to build an independent life in the city and catching up on classwork. She lived in the school dormitory, in a compact double room. Her roommate was Margot, a dark-skinned London girl with a rather laid-back disposition. At first, Rachel thought she was a bit cold and standoffish because she didn’t respond to Rachel’s overeager greeting; she just nodded slightly and continued burying her nose in the book she was reading. Gradually, Rachel realized that her roommate was simply the non-sociable type. It seemed that everyone in London was the same, everyone seemed wary and suspicious. All of Rachel's classmates had similar accents and enjoyed listening to music and watching indie movies.

College and high school shared many similarities but also many differences. The biggest difference was probably the fact that people actually showed interest in the subjects that sounded way too academic and confusing. College students were passionate about expressing their opinions and participating in impromptu debates. At first, Rachel felt a bit overwhelmed and lagged behind her classmates, as if she'd accidentally slipped into a world of intellectual superiority, beyond her reach, where she struggled to make sense of the most basic concepts. The shyness of a town girl like Rachel seemed to be obvious to other people who were always expressing their opinions confidently. Sometimes Rachel felt lost, perhaps she would never really understand London, just as London would never understand her.

Rachel had an easy schedule the first semester, and she spent the rest of her time exploring the city and reading. She wanted to get a part-time job to ease the financial burden on her family, but Uncle Hardy encouraged her to enjoy her first year of college. She often stayed late in the library at night, reading all kinds of books, novels and literary criticism. On weekends, she hung out at museums, learning about history and art. Rachel realized she didn't like to party, and although she got invited to some, she didn't really make any friends. Back at home, Rachel's shyness never seemed to be an obstacle to her social life as everyone knew who she was and she never had to introduce herself or try to impress anyone. But now, she felt clumsy, out of place, and weird.

Sometimes, she thought about Flynn, maybe because he was the first person to draw her attention to London and then one day actually set foot in this land. Once, she purposely passed by the gate of the London Business School, where he studied. She didn't enter, just stood there looking at the red brick gate. She imagined him walking out of the gate, wearing the worn-out Adidas shoes and the denim shirt he always wore. She knew they wouldn't meet by chance. This city was too big and too busy. The last time she saw him was almost two years ago. He must have graduated that summer, she wondered what he was doing or where he was now.

The memory of the evening by Mald Lake was still vivid. Nothing had happened, of course, but somehow, when Rachel felt alone, standing in the middle of a crowded intersection, looking at a strange city, the very thought that she knew Flynn, that Flynn was somewhere in the heart of London, brought warmth to her heart. That day, he never showed any interest in her anyway. But now she was no longer a child.

It took several weeks of talking to her acquaintances to get Flynn's phone number. Her heart pounded in excitement. That very night, she decided to text him.

“Hi Flynn. I'm Rachel, Uncle Hardy's niece. I don't know if you still remember me. Anyhow, I have moved to London and am now studying in Hodge Institute. I don't know anyone here and have a few questions to ask.”

After pressing the send button, her heart pounded in her chest. She was restless, checking the screen every five minutes. Several hours passed and he did not answer. She wondered if this was really his number. Just when she thought she was about to despair, Rachel's phone screen lit up.

“Rachel? You’re at university? God, time goes by so fast!”

It was the Easter holiday since Rachel's first year at University. They'd been texting for more than a week. Rachel was too shy to take the initiative to ask Flynn to meet up and Flynn probably simply saw her as a friend so he didn't suggest anything. Then Rachel found out why. During the conversation, he told her that he was recovering from a skiing accident the month before. She was terrified to imagine him hobbling around on crutches! His roommates had left for the holiday period and he was helpless, even going out to get groceries was a nightmare for him.

“I can help you.” She texted in joy. “We actually don’t live too far from each other, you know.”

That night, she showed up at his door with a bag of fresh fruit and vegetables. She didn't really know what a person with a broken leg needed.

Flynn opened the door. He looked exactly like she remembered. Now, when she thought about it, she wondered how she had ever been so damned gullible, such a fool, but at fourteen she had had a massive crush on him. And that childish crush had lasted longer than any of them could have ever expected. He was the tall, dark, handsome man of her dreams, and she would have done anything for him.

For Rachel, the next week was pure bliss; she delighted in looking after Flynn. They talked for hours, played Monopoly and chess. He was so good at chess, but she was also a quick learner and a clever student.

His leg recovered soon, but they kept seeing each other. They spent wonderful days together; behaving like tourists, they visited the Tower of London, took a river boat from Richmond to Hampton Court, and got thoroughly lost in the maze of the city. The tension, the electric awareness between them that had been brewing all weekend, waiting to explore. At this point, Rachel knew that Flynn liked her but she was not sure if he liked her in a different sense of the word.

Rachel had read about love in books and longed to experience the reality of it with Flynn, and, that night, for the first time, she beat him at chess. She could remember it as though it were yesterday.

Flynn lounged back on one side of the long hide sofa, his injured leg stretched out before him, his arm spread along the back of the settee. She had never seen him look sexier. His dark eyes sparkled as he laughed at her across the width of the low coffee-table.

'Well, Rachel, you finally did it. You beat the master, and by my reckoning I owe you a thousand pounds.' Chuckling, he threw a handful of rice seeds, their ‘currency’, at her.

'I must be a great teacher,' he opined smugly.

Rachel, elated at winning, but sad at the thought of leaving the next day, daringly replied, 'I admit you're a good teacher, Flynn, but, I wonder, if there are other things you can teach me?' And, standing up, she moved around the table and sat down beside him on the sofa.

She looked at him without speaking, her green eyes brilliant in the perfect oval of her face. She was wearing a deep-cut dress which revealed the soft curves of her milk-white breasts as she leaned towards him. She watched his brown eyes darken as his glance dropped down. She noted, with satisfaction, the reddish flush spread along his high cheekbones, and all traces of amusement disappeared from his expression.

He smoldered. 'What else do you want me to teach you, Rachel?'

Rachel felt her heartbeat quicken until it almost deafened her. She moved closer and, leaning over his hard body, she reached her elegant arms around his shoulders. 'A kiss instead of the money you owe me,' she tried to joke.

During the past few days, while she was immersed in her first love, he still treated her as usual, like a friend. While he made her whole form heat up and burst from the chemicals rushing around her body, he remained cold. It felt terrible, yet somehow amazing.

He moved suddenly, his strong arms enfolding her as his hard mouth imprisoned her trembling lips. His kiss was all she had imagined and more. The consuming heat he ignited in her sent shock-waves crashing through her body. When he finally broke the kiss she was trembling in his arms. Gently, he held her head to his broad chest, his hand gently stroking her long black hair. Rachel's whole body froze. She could not move or say a word. His scent took over her world when he lowered his lips once more to her ear and murmured: “Thank f**k, Rachel, you are not sixteen anymore.”