Billionaire Bind

I’m running as fast as my legs can carry me, the morning breeze pushing against me, the smell of autumn strong in the air.

Stopping for my morning coffee was a really bad idea but my whole day would be shit without it. Now, I’m about to be late for my favorite class. Forget my whole day being ruined, my whole week would be ruined if I didn’t make it to her class.

Today’s the day she’s going to share the class into different groups for our art project, I’m hoping she’ll let us pick groups. My being late would destroy any hope I have of that happening for me. Fuck, I’ve never been late to this class before.

I push past other college students loitering around the campus to get to the building where the class is supposed to be held, earning a string of colorful words hurled at me. It doesn’t bother me at all, I’m focused on making it to my building in one piece.

I make it to the building, run to the elevator and aggressively push the button. Five seconds pass and it doesn’t budge, I swear under my breath and head towards the stairs in haste while I adjust the strap of my bag on my shoulders.

My hair is already falling out of the ponytail I hurriedly put it in this morning, my glasses keep sliding down my face, I’m pretty sure I look a mess and the overalls I practically jumped in are not helping either. Ugh! Why today of all days, I blame Joel. I had to beg him to leave this morning. I don’t know how he managed to get under my skirts- or rather dress this time around but I woke up and he was there in my bed. Naked. Along with the blinding headache that greeted me promptly after I woke.

Drunk Claire really has a lot of explaining to do because I’m not impressed. Neither is Quen and she’s my best friend. She’s also my roommate and trust, the memory of her giving me the “stink face of disappointment” while I urged Joel out the door will forever be seared into my memory. Just thinking of it makes me shudder.

I slow down my running and slip into walking as I thankfully am now on the floor where my hall is. My eyes stray to a clock on the wall that reads 9:40. Odd, the clocks around the school are always correct. My anxiety shoots up. I reach into my bag as I walk, fishing for my phone so I can confirm if it’s the right time or not.

It is then that I walk into what I would have thought an unmoving wall, if not for the fact that this wall is wearing a white button up that is now stained with my piping hot coffee. My eyes widen in horror, it’s scalding hot coffee that I take in sips in order not to burn my tongue. He didn’t even flinch.

I quickly take my handkerchief and start trying to soak up the coffee off his shirt.

“I am soooo sorry, are you okay? I really did not see you coming, this is really hot coffee, I hope it doesn’t leave a welt,” I ramble on mindlessly, so mindlessly that I don’t notice when he reaches for my hand and grabs it to stop me from wiping his shirt.

I look up at him and whoa how tall is this man? His height is not the only thing that has me gagged, it’s his eyes, the way they are fragments of different earth tones staring so intensely at me, it’s the way his citric, woody fragrance floods my nostrils and makes me think of petrichor, it’s the way his sleeves are folded at his forearms and I can see the contours of his toned, muscled arms, it’s the way he looks like a work of art, with chiseled cheekbones, a jawline sculpted by the gods and lips so inviting, I have to pull my eyes away from, lest I lose my sense of self.

He tilts his head to the side, keen interest in his eyes as he watches me.

Flustered, I take my hand from his grip and look away.

“You were making it worse,” I hear him say in a deep, coarse voice that turns my insides to jelly. I realize he is referring to the coffee stain.

I mean, I was aggressively wiping the damn thing.

“I’m really sorry about the whole thing, I was in such a hurry. Is there anything I could do to make it up?”

I ask genuinely apologetic. I also surprise myself by how stable my voice sounds.

“Be mindful of your steps next time.” He says this, doesn’t even spare me another glance and walks away.

I’m stunned for a few seconds, I want to be angry but I did spill hot, scalding coffee on the guy. It’s kind of fair, but a part of me still feels offended.

"Hey! You should put a balm on that, I know one that’s really soothing," I say dumping my coffee cup in a bin and jogging after him, he’s easily putting meters between us in just one step and it’s really hard to keep up, how long are his legs?

He stops out of nowhere, catching me off guard. It’s so abrupt, I almost bump into him the second time today. He turns to look at me an indecipherable look on his face. "Are you...following me?" His eyebrow arcs like he’s telling me to get on with it when he sees me hesitating.

"You left so quickly, I-"

"Well, I have to go replace the shirt you just ruined so I don’t exactly have time to sit and chat." His voice is really cold and he sounds so curt, I actually stagger backwards awkwardly. I want to just walk away and apologize for disturbing, apparently.

However, looking at this rudely handsome man talking to me in that manner irks me really bad. To be honest, I don’t really think before I spew the next words.

"Okay then, while you’re at it try replacing that shitty attitude you’ve got on. Stinks way more than your shirt." I retort and turn back the way I came from not even waiting to see the reaction he’s got on. He really didn’t have to be so bitchy.

I get to my class trying to put the last two minutes at the back of my mind but standing outside the door, I can see the class is really full and teeming with people and the class is already ongoing.

How long did I spend with that man?

I hear someone whisper my name and crane my neck to see who. It’s Luna, my friend. We have this course together and literally sit always beside each other. She’s seated at the very last row and is waving for me to join her, so I open the door as quietly as I can and walk over to the seat she left for me beside her.

There’s a confused look on her face as I sit down. “I didn’t expect to see you in class today,” she says and takes a sip from that Dantley cup she carries everywhere, I’m pretty sure it’s more than just water in there.

I frown, “Oh really, why?”

“You’re so late, you might as well have missed the class. What’s wrong? You used to be Miss Punctual,” she says and I’m thoroughly floored. Huh?!

“What do you mean? it’s literally some minutes after eight,” I utter my words slowly, even doubting myself as I speak. Luna gives me a short chortle with her eyebrows raised.

“Yesterday really did a number on you. You’re disoriented.” She raises her phone to my face which reads boldly 09:57, just like the clock in the lobby earlier.

I’m staring at Luna’s phone like it’s the 19th century and I’m a Victorian child looking at it for the first time. I missed the whole thing. I’m confused about how my phone is two hours behind because I did not change the setting. I get an uneasy feeling in my stomach.

Joel... he must have done that yesterday night so I’d lose track of time with him at the party. The little fucker. My fists ball up thinking of fifty unique ways to skin the fucker. He’s so lucky he’s not in the vicinity, three jacked men would have to hold me back.

“Don’t beat yourself up, Claire,” she whispers as she places her phone back in her bag. “Nothing much happened. Ms. Winterfell just went over her normal lecture and now she says she has an important message for us."

What important message? I look over to where she’s standing at the front of the class. She’s wearing such a morose expression. Oh no.

There’s been speculation that Ms.Winterfell would resign soon. Everybody could tell she had something going on personally that put a damper on her usually hyper personality. A divorce, Quen had told me. She always has all the legit tea and information.

“I’ll be stepping down as your professor,” she says and the class falls dead silent. The next minute it morphs into an uproar. It’s happening.

"Calm down class, you’re not barbarians," she says and as usual the class obeys. Ms.Winterfell is middle-aged and with the way she handles her class, we respect her, some could even say revere her because she’s too damn good at her job. I can’t believe what I’m hearing.

"I am saying this with a heavy heart and even I didn’t see this coming either but sometimes, life hits us with curveballs and you have to make tough decisions such as this one but not to worry, I’ll be leaving you in the capable hands of Mr. Eiserman. He’s an excellent professor and he’ll guide you guys just as well, if not even better”.

“Honestly, you all have incredible potential and I hope you embrace every opportunity that comes your and give it everything you have, no halfsies," she says with a smile and the heavy mood of the room lifts a bit and people are chuckling. How can they? More importantly, how can she say she’s leaving? That’s...so unfair.

"Regardless, your brand new professor will be coming in to introduce himself. Please give him a warm welcome," She says and as she steps off the podium the class erupts in an ovation. It lasts for some seconds and then we settle down as the door swings open to reveal our new professor.

I almost choke on my own saliva and start coughing uncontrollably. Luna offers me her water as she pats my back so I can stop coughing but I can’t seem to stop.

I must be seeing things. He’s in a different shirt now but there’s no mistake. It’s the man I spilled coffee on outside.

“You should have seen it, he was staring at her the whole time. He even smirked," Luna narrates to Quen. We met up with Quen after class for coffee, I was convinced I’d become delirious because I couldn’t have it this morning.

Luna is busy telling an adulterated version of what happened this morning and Quen is sitting there eating it up.

"Luna, you’re over stretching it now. When did he smirk?!" I question looking pointedly at her. He didn’t smirk at me, did he?

Oh God! I don’t know, I was too out of it to remember.

"He definitely did," Luna responds like she can hear my thoughts and turns to Quen who’s busy casually pouring tea into her cup from a kettle. Don’t ask how she’s having tea in a coffee shop. She’s Quen, she just does.

"You needed to experience it Quen, he looked at her and smirked like he was this sly fox and then Claire coughed into her hand like she was a dumb, weak bunny. It was like something out of a book," I can confirm Luna has gone completely cray-cray now.

I look over to Quen, "You cannot be buying this bullshit,"

She shrugs, "I’m not."

"So, maybe I exaggerated a bit but there was definitely tension." Luna continues, I wish I could just tape her mouth shut.

"Tension with your lecturer?" Quen interjects as her eyebrows arc in mock disbelief.

"I wouldn’t blame her, he’s hot as hell," Luna whispers to Quen.

"You can’t be taking her seriously, she only started saying that after I told her I’d spilled coffee on him," I ramble on arguing my case.

"You spilled coffee on your professor?" Quen asks laughing at me now. I slump back into my chair, a defeated sigh leaving my lips. This is madness.

Quen perks up beside me. "So, how hot are we talking? DILF type of hot or Granddaddy type of hot?" She asks Luna as she wiggles her eyebrows. She’s truly trying to get on my nerves. I can tell.

"Honey, that man is not a day over thirty. I’m willing to bet he’s 27," Luna whispers to Quen for some reason and then Quen gasps.

"Hot, young and an academic. Sister, I think you’ve hit the jackpot," Quen says to me still wiggling her eyebrows. I want to face-palm her but I remember she has a full beat. Lucky sucker.

"Guys, it doesn’t matter if he’s hot or not, I’m pretty sure he’s going to make life hell for me," I pull my legs up on the chair and wrap my arms around myself.

"What do you mean?" Quen asks, I turn to her my cheek on my knee. “I swore at him, very angrily too."

“And the plot thickens!" Luna proclaims. I groan and drop my face between my knees.

"Why? What happened?" It’s Quen’s voice. "It doesn’t even matter, you didn’t know he was your professor then. Plus, I’m pretty sure he provoked you." How does she know me like that? We’ve lived together for years, yes. But still, it’s almost like I’ve had her all my life.

Some minutes later Luna realizes she’s late for her class and hastily bolts off.

Quen sips her tea. I’m sulking with the biggest pout ever.

“You have that date, today right?” The expression on her face is sympathetic. I roll my eyes, I hate when she pities me like that.

“I don’t even know what to wear,” I say looking away from her. My arranged marriage to the Crouthers has loomed and I’ve dreaded it since I turned eighteen. I had to deal with this the same year my sister ran away, amidst personal turmoil. The contract mandates I marry at 23, after college.

Which is this year. I’ll be turned into a baby-making machine at the beck and call of my husband. Such a bleak future to look forward to.

“We should go shopping don’t you think? Retail therapy and that,” she says, a Cheshire grin on her face. I shake my head in laughter, “That’s your solution every single time?”

Quen looks like she’s taken aback, her hand on her chest, “I’m confused, it doesn’t work?”

“I don’t even really need a dress anyway,” I say as she gets up and gets her bag, “I’m going to the restroom honey, when I get back we’re leaving for the nearest store. Excuse me.”

Aaand, she’s gone.

This, is one of the things you have to come to terms with when your best friend is an only child. She never takes no as an answer.

My phone rings. I take it out of my bag and see it’s my mom calling.

There was a time she was less predictable.

I have not spoken with my mom in two months and today she’s calling. Hm, I wonder why.

“Oh, hey mom. It’s nice to finally hear from you again.” I say in a voice void of cheer when I answer. I’m not particularly happy with her.

“Claire, the phone works both ways. You didn’t check in the last two months. You’re not a saint either. Anyway, that’s beside the point. I just wanted to remind you of your meeting with that Crouther boy. I really hope you did not forget by any chance.” Her voice is a soft whisper, my mom.

I’d always admired her, I still do in a way but ever since that night mom and dad came into my room and basically forced me to sign that contract, she’s begun to morph into a person I can no longer recognize.

A beat passes. “Is that really the only thing you care about? The arrangement?” I ask earnestly.

“Claire honey, why would you think that? I care very much about you, about our family. That’s why I do the things I do. I want to- I want us to win.” She says this in that annoying singsong voice she uses when she exaggerates affection. It breaks me.

A sigh escapes my lips. “I’ll let you know how the date goes.” She says something but I don’t let her finish before I hang up. I can feel my eyes watering up so I look up and sniff, trying to stop them from falling.

I finally understand why Ms. Winterfell’s resignation stung so much. She was one of the only lecturers that sought to connect with her students and she personally sought me out when I lagged last year. At the time I’d been annoyed and wanted her to just go away.

She didn’t, she pushed to my limit. At some point, I started picking up just because I didn’t want to disappoint her. She said she was persistent because she knew I had it in me. I’d told her it was a corny thing to say but what she did made me feel seen. I wonder if I’d even crossed her mind for a second when she made the decision to resign.

Quen comes out of the restroom and she walks over to me briskly, “Are you ready?” She asks putting forth her hand for me to take. I take it in mine.

***

It’s nighttime and we’re back at the apartment. Quen is glamming me up after our spree at Dior. I’d gotten a short black dress and Quen had way more bags than I did. ‘Twas ridiculous.

She’s seated crossed legged on her vanity while I sit on her chair and my face is raised towards her. I’d already dressed up to leave but Quen apparently wasn’t satisfied with how I looked.

“I really don’t know why we have to go extra with the makeup,” I tell Quen, she has me pouting my mouth to a side as she applies contour to my cheek.

“This isn’t extra at all! This is the lightest beat you’re going to get. Stop being so whiny, and remember you are not doing this to impress anybody. Repeat after me. Look good…”

I roll my eyes at her and begrudgingly reply, “Feel good.”

“Exactement! You look good, you’re going to feel good. If he gets weird, you can just text me and I’ll call and you can say your house caught on fire.” She says matter-of-factly. I let out a chuckle.

“Clairementine, you have no idea.” She smiles focused. She started calling me that as a joke so, I started calling her Quentessence or Quenaissance as a joke and then she’d call me something like Clairevoyance too, it is one of our running jokes between us.

Quen jokes about following me, “If he tries anything, we’d just jump his ass together,” she suggests. I laugh at the mental picture in my head and Quen starts laughing too.

“We’d end up getting jailed by them,” I try to say, still wheezing.

Quen laughs even harder now. “That couldn’t even happen in their wildest dreams,” she asserts. She drops her brush and gives me a once-over.

“Done! Oh my goodness, you look absolutely gorgeous,” she hands me a mirror as she uncrosses her legs. She’s right, I think to myself. I look absolutely gorgeous.

I thank Quen and she makes me promise to text her every detail. I take three shots for liquid courage, I then head downstairs where the driver Wilhelm has sent is waiting.

A number had texted earlier. He introduced himself as Wilhelm Crouther, said that it’d be a pleasure to finally meet me and gave me the time and the place we were meeting up at. It all sounded so stiff.

At this point, I have resigned myself to my fate. I can only imagine what it has in store for me and hope at least he is a kind, good man.

Downstairs, the driver is outside waiting outside beside the car. He smiles at me and opens the door. I get in and draw a long breath in. The ride starts.

I feel awfully like I am a sheep being led to the slaughter house but I may be overthinking again. I try not to ponder on it too much, but the fact that I’ve been robbed of ever finding true love leaves a heavy dent in my heart.

I get a whiff of that woody scent that I’d smelt early this morning. It’s so random, remembering his scent. I look around a little confused, it’s almost like he was just here.

The driver turns to me to say we’ve arrived. I smile at him and thank him as I grab my bag and get out of the car. Outside, I’m standing in front of a restaurant, I can tell it is one of the fancy ones because we used to have dinner at places like these as a family.

I walk into the restaurant and the man at the door takes my coat. The restaurant is pretty empty save for a couple of people. The light is low, giving it such an intimate vibe. I subtly look around, trying my best not to appear lost. To be honest, I’m not really sure what I should be looking for.

Then I get a whiff of that woody scent again. One of my eyebrows arcs in curiosity, maybe it’s just a popular cologne?

But then it gets stronger as I walk in a particular direction and there he is. Mr Eiserman, the man I spilled coffee on this morning, is seated just a table away from me.

What are the odds? Is he Wilhelm?

Just as the thought crosses my mind, his intense gaze traps me. I want to look away but something in me is fighting not to cower. It doesn’t last even seconds anyway as someone stands and blocks both our views.

I realize this person was sitting at the same table Mr. Eiserman is at. He waves, walks up to me and smiles. “You must be Claire Andreadis, pleasure to finally meet you,” he says, takes my hand and kisses it. It feels like he’s taken a needle and popped the imaginary bubble over my head, leaving me drenched in cold water.

This man is Wilhelm Crouther.