The Billionaire Student's Secret.

9

Charles settled crisply on his chair in class, his back still hurting from his last session with Mistress Rania. He smiled as he recalled how she'd lashed him severally while berating him for not knowing basic things such as the current president and his vice, how many provinces there were, and the date of the country's independence.

Of course, Charles had known all those things but had failed them so as to feel the flogger's wicked sting on his back. When he'd had enough of the flagellation, Charles answered all the questions that Mistress Rania threw at him correctly, and he'd gotten his reward for being a good boy, which was getting to jerk off while Mistress Rania had watched intently.

Afterwards, she had untied him and soothed his wounds with a salve.

His phone pinged and he checked it. It was a message from Mistress Rania;

Last night was fun, I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did ; )

Charles found himself grinning as he replied immediately:

Of course, can't wait for our next session.

A second after his message sent, a reply came through:

I can't wait that long. Can we meet somewhere that's not P P?

Charles scowled. Why did Mistress Rania want to meet him outside Pleasure Palace?

You know this is against the rules.

I'm aware but I have something very important to tell you and I don't want to say it via a text or during our next session. Pleeeeeassse?

Charles sighed, what choice did he have?

Fine, meet me at the Golden Gate Hotels by 5 PM. I'll tell you the room number later.

Thanks, boo.

Charles smiled at Rania's use of the generic endearment and turned off his phone. Immediately he did, Professor Clarke walked in, bearing a sheaf of papers.

“Good day, class,” he greeted jovially.

“Good day, Sir!” the interested members of the class chorused.

“I spent the whole of yesterday marking your test scripts and I must say, I was amused by the nonsense most of you wrote.” Professor Clarke kept the test scripts on the lectern in front of the class and continued, “also, I was impressed with a few people's works, very few mind you. At the end of the class, you can all have your scripts.”

“Keep 'em!” Leroy shouted from his chair and the whole class burst out laughing.

Charles saw Mouse and the man who had refused to let Leroy copy his work discussing in hushed tones. Mouse was talking furiously and gesturing to the man's right hand which was in a cast, and the man seemed to be placating her.

Charles wondered what had happened to the man's right hand, but dismissed it. The guy's injuries were none of his business.

Charles had something more important to worry about, and it was that Jade and the man, two smart people were getting cozy. What if they started studying together? Two good heads were better than one, meaning it was only a matter of time before he'd be no competition for either of them.

“That's not right,” Charles hissed out loud, drawing the attention of some people sitting next to him.

He apologized and went back to his thoughts. He had to do something to separate the mismatched pair, Charles promised as he started to jot notes when Professor Clarke started lecturing.

* * *

Darin Koor dropped her designer tote on the floor of her expensively furnished living room and took another puff of her e-cig, crumpling her test script into a ball and tossing it carelessly unto her sofa. Her low test score wasn't her problem, Charles Black was. The first man to successfully reject her, he'd still had the effrontery to text and smile in class, and Darin could bet her t**s it was with a woman. So not only had Charles rebuffed her advances, he probably was falling for another woman. No one ever did that. Darin knew she had to do something about that Charles, and fast. He was going to be hers, he just didn't know it yet.

Her apartment was a mess as usual, with fashion magazines, worn clothes, shoes and chocolate bar wraps all over the place.

“Darin,” When a man's deep voice sounded from within the kitchen, Darin yelped and threw her e-cig beneath a sofa pillow, trying and failing to stretch her mini skirt and tank top to cover more of her body.

Footsteps sounded, and seconds later, a huge man dressed in a black three piece suit appeared from her kitchen, disgust all over his tanned handsome face.

“Good evening, Dad.” Darin greeted Reza Noor, renowned action movie director. His movies since his directorial debut were blockbusters, and he was being considered to direct the next movie in the James River franchise.

Reza didn't reply but sniffed the air, “Smoking again, Darin?”

Darin paled considerably, “No—”

“Don't lie to me, Dar.” Reza walked over and picked up Darin's crumpled test script. Straightening it out, he looked at her score.

Immediately, he got a thunderous expression on his face. Returning the paper to its crumpled state, a vein bulged in Reza's neck as he bit out, “An F again? Darin when will you stop dressing like a w***e and become serious in school?”

“Dad, chill. It's just a test.” Darin curled a strand of her hair around her finger and gazed away nonchalantly.

“No, it's not!” Reza contradicted, “all these things add up. I know you've been falling woefully since your first year. At the rate you're going, you'll never graduate!”

“Yay! Dad, thanks for all the cheer and the positivity!” Darin's sarcasm was evident.

A loud slap landed on her right cheek, and Darin's eyes blurred with tears.

“I am your father, and you have no right to take up such a sarcastic tone with me!” Reza barked, his eyes narrowing.

Darin mentally scolded herself for raising her father's ire when she knew he had a short fuse. She decided to tread carefully, lest he give her another slap.

She didn't want any blemishes on her face, it was her money maker.

“I'm sorry, Dad,” Darin lied, shedding a few tears to buttress her act, “I'll try my best not to fail any of my tests ever again.”

“Not good enough,” Reza shook his head, “either you pass all your courses, or I'll cut you off.”

Darin's eyes widened, “That's impossible! You should have told me this before the start of the semester!”

Darin made enough money from her brand endorsement deals as an i********: influencer but it was not enough to cover her extravagant life style. If her father cut her off, she'd lose many of the privileges she enjoyed, Darin reasoned.

“That's none of my business,” Reza said uncompromisingly, “maybe now you'll sit up and focus on your academics, not spreading your legs for sportsmen.”

Darin thought it was hypocritical of her father who had s*x with anything in skirt that was on his set to slut-shame her, but she kept it to herself. His earlier slap still stung.

“Get yourself together and get this place cleaned up!” Reza roared and left unceremoniously.

“Whatever!” Darin returned when she was sure he was out of hearing range, “what a d**k!”

She angrily flounced on a sofa and switched on her television, touching the part of her face her father had slapped.

Using her phone camera, Darin checked and saw it was not that inflamed and heaved a sigh of relief, nothing a little concealer wouldn't cover.

As she absently watched the TV, her mind ran back to her encounter with her father. Just how did the man expect her to turn her grades around in the middle of the semester? Even if she started reading notes and listening in class, it still wouldn't be enough.

“I must find a way to do it,” Darin mused resignedly, “there's no way I'm letting him cut me off.”