Master Class: An Alpha Billionaire Romance (+ Bonus Book 'Silent Daughter 1') by Linnea May Page B

her studies. She's the best student of our entire grade, which means that she must be a lot smarter than me. Her brown hair falls over her shoulders in long waves, sometimes blocking her views when she bends over her desk to work on assignments. When that happens, she tucks it behind her hair with a calm and elegant motion, not letting it disturb her work. She's always prepared and concentrated in class and doesn't participate in the chatting and giggling of other girls.
    And she doesn't bully me. She's a good person. At least I think she is. I've not talked to her once, and the only time I've heard her speak was in class, when she answered the teacher's questions. Her voice is deep and calm, not squeaky and annoying like those of the cheerleader squad who continuously practice their infantile chants on the field outside and inside the halls.
    She always sits in the front row, while I'm two rows behind her, slightly to the right, so that I can see her delicate back and watch her follow class with unparalleled attention.
    She's too good for me. I know that. While I've never seen Aileen with a boyfriend or even talk to another boy in a flirtatious manner, I'm sure that I'd be that last one for her to pick. She needs someone smart. Someone with potential. Not Jackson Fatson. Not a loser who sighs in relief for every passing grade he receives, because he's too dumb for school.
    But while all of that may be true, Aileen still gives me a reason to smile. Her mere presence uplifts my mood and makes me feel blessed to be alive.
    I could look at her forever.

CHAPTER ELEVEN
JACKSON
    M ore than a month has passed and Miss Harlington acts as if our little encounter never took place. I'm beginning to regret just letting her go like that. I could have risked more, I usually do. If it weren't for that turn our conversation had taken, I definitely would have gotten a taste of her.
    Screw the rules, screw the trouble this could put me in. The faculty may agree that students are off limits, but I'm not really a part of them. I'm just a visitor from another planet - and I prefer the rules I live by.
    But she has to play along. I didn't get anything from her these past few weeks, except for shy looks from afar. She participated in class, but only when I posed questions on factual knowledge. Our only interaction was when I called her up to tell me something that a search engine or an encyclopedia could have told me just as well. There was absolutely no personal communication between us.
    I hate that. She might be closing up on me before we even started.
    When I didn't find her in her usual seat last week, I feared that she might have dropped my class altogether. I couldn't start my class until I found her sitting in a row at the far back, looking at me with the same attentive face as always and hunching her shoulders while casting me a smile. Apologizing.
    But why was she sitting back there? Is she trying to send me a message? Why distance herself from me even more than she already did before?
    I hate not knowing what's going through that pretty head of hers. She might not be thinking about our conversation at all, or she might be scared, confused, mad even. I want to know what she's thinking, if I hit the nail right on the head when I assumed that she's not really in this with all her heart. She may seem like the ordinary scholarly girl, the good and diligent student who thrives for the one dimensional success that comes with good grades, but even after the few exchanges I've had with her, I couldn't help but wonder if this is the real her. Her voice is monotone and robotic when she talks about the path that's been laid out for her. She never says "I want", she just says "I do".
    Never have I seen anyone react to my words as she did. Where's that arrogance and confidence she displayed during our first conversation? Her resistance to my unconventional approach has vanished far too quickly.
    And it has been replaced by this disturbing silence. I'd