Time to start her role as a music instructor.Fuck. Why did I wear this suit? It looks so official, so not me.
She could almost hear Mor in her head, nagging: "You can't look cheap. If your student thinks you're as broke as you actually are, they'll eat you alive."
After the stiff courtesy of the principal's office, Alex made her way to the classroom. The door creaked open onto a space so spotless it looked like you could eat off the floor.
Everything gleamed: the polished desks, the shining windows, the faint scent of antiseptic clinging to the air. It screamed money, money, money, the kind of wealth that combines both talent and lineage.
Alex adjusted the stiff collar of the suit she hated and stepped into the classroom."So, wassup, kiddies? I'll be your music instructor for the rest of the semester."
A boy in the front row eyed her up and down, lips curling."Please. the elderly home called, guess we have found, the lost item that fell off the wagon. Choo-choo."
Laughter erupted. Alex's jaw tightened. You little shit. She wasn't even that much older than them, but she had to keep her head cool.
"Ha-ha. Fun," she said flatly, clapping her hands once. "Now, everybody get to your stations. We're starting with Paganini."
The room groaned in unison. Booing. Eye rolls. Someone even muttered, "Lame."
Alex sighed, sliding her suit jacket off in one deliberate motion.
Whistles went up when the students saw her lean, cut physique, muscles defined but not bulky, strength that belonged more to a fighter than a music teacher.
She rolled up her sleeves, revealing tattoos in stark, Russian-black script curling over her forearms.
The boys grunted in approval, impressed. The girls? Their eyes lingered longer than they should.
"You think I'm not worth the paper," Alex said evenly, "so let's test that theory."
She lined up the instruments: piano, guitar, saxophone, cello, and violin. The room hushed a little, curiosity edging out defiance. She turned to the boy who had mocked her.
"You," she said, pointing. "What's your name?"
He straightened like a prince on his throne."Edward Huntington the Fourth."
Alex tilted her head, smirking."Fourth? Damn, your family really couldn't come up with anything new after the first Edward, huh? Must've been exhausting."
The room burst into laughter. Even Edward's smirk faltered before he shut them up with a cold glare. Got you, Alex thought. Leader of the pack. Probably the richest one too.
She stepped closer, her voice low, teasing."Alright, Fourth Eddie. Pick any symphony. I'll play it with every single instrument here. One by one. Cohesively. Alone."
He scoffed, shaking his head."You're bluffing. You couldn't pull that off if your life depended on it."
"Try me."
Edward leaned back in his chair, grinning."Fine. Caprice No. 24. Paganini. If you do it, I'll pay you a million pounds."
Internal scream. A million pounds. God, you're lucky I can't take that money.
Instead, Alex tied her neck-length hair into a messy bun. A move so casual it only drew more eyes to her sharp jawline, the curve of her throat.
She was magnetic, dangerously so. The girls shifted in their seats, biting lips. Even the boys had gone quiet.
Alex cracked her knuckles and sat at the piano.And then she played.
The keys hammered under her fingers, precise and unrelenting, the tempo wild and intoxicating. She was a storm, a maniac at the keys.
Then she spun off the bench, grabbed the guitar, and the classroom transformed into a rock concert. Her riffs shredded, raw and electric, hair falling loose around her face.
Without missing a beat, she slid to the saxophone. A low, sultry growl of notes filled the air, smooth and hot like molten honey. Kenny G himself could've walked into the room and bowed. It was getting way too sensual in here.
Next, the cello. The tone softened, rich and mournful, pulling them into something intimate, almost heartbreaking. Then, the final weapon: the violin.
She lifted it to her chin, bow poised, and the room froze. The sound that erupted was furious, flawless, alive. It wasn't one person, it was ten, a full orchestra condensed into her body.
By the time the last note slashed the air, the classroom was silent.
Alex lowered the violin, a smirk tugging at her lips."Get your asses to your stations."
No one booed this time. Chairs scraped, instruments shifted, the room moving
Alex set the violin down carefully, rolling her shoulders like she'd just finished a workout instead of a virtuoso display. She let the silence hang, heavy, letting them sit with the fact that she'd just obliterated their expectations.
"Lesson number one," she said, pacing the front of the room, tattoos flexing as she gestured. "Music isn't about money. Or bloodlines. Or how expensive your school uniform is. It's about discipline. Obsession. And a little bit of madness."
She stopped, leaning against the piano with her arms folded, tattoos ink-dark against her skin. Her gaze swept the room, holding them like prey that hadn't realized the hunter was already there.
"You give me effort," she said slowly, voice low and sharp, "and I'll give you everything I know."
Her eyes locked on Edward."But if you slack off..." her smirk widened, dangerous, "...you'll wish your rich asses never met me."