The class is filled when she enters, her trusty brown bag filled to the brim with reading material for this semester. She pulls the strap higher on her shoulder with one hand, holding her overly sweet caramel latte in the other as she makes her way to the front row. She swipes away her bangs, pushing her thick-rimmed glasses up her nose bridge as she pulls out her laptop from her bag.
Classes don't make her anxious anymore, unlike when she started being an escort, when she was always afraid that someone would recognize her. Over time, her trust in her masks grew, and she was able to leave her dorms during the day comfortably.
Commercial law is one of her least favorite subjects, which is why she had left off taking up the course until she couldn't. Now, in her final year of law school, she can't escape it, especially if she wants to maintain her scholarship that pays most of her tuition bills.
Her mind strays when she remembers her encounter with Drystan three days ago. The onyx-eyed man hadn't left her thoughts since he escorted her to her Uber, waving that bloodied hand at her as she left, an overly self-assured, cocky smirk on his lips; she wishes she found his arrogance unattractive. Somehow, he's fixed in every fold of her mind, refusing to leave.
She's lost in her thoughts when she hears her name being called, and quite loudly at that. Her heart lurches when she looks up to find her lecturer for this course looking at her disapprovingly; a series of chuckles from her classmates follow the humiliation, and she feels her cheeks color. "Yes, sir?" she answers politely.
Alexander Vulcane is substituting for their faculty professor, who is on leave this semester as he battles blood cancer. She's done her necessary research on one of the most famous corporate lawyers in the city to know that he's 32, the son of Caspian Vulcane, the founder of Vulcane Legal, which is the top firm in the state. He is the sort of lawyer that every law student wishes to become.
And now, in his earthy green shirt, brown slacks, Italian leather shoes, and Rolex watch adorning his thick wrist, he is watching Skyler with utmost disappointment. "I asked you to introduce yourself," His deep, raspy voice filters through the speakers as he talks in the mic pack, and her cheeks darken further.
"Oh, my apologies," she mutters, standing up, another round of laughter following her. "My name is Skyler Fye; it's a pleasure to meet you," she manages to finish professionally.
Alexander watches her for a beat, most likely taking in her appearance. Skyler likes to leave the makeup for when she's playing her masks. She likes to wear comfortable, baggy-sized clothing on campus, especially since she's a bit of a nerd and is often in the library studying till late if she doesn't have a date planned for the day.
Skyler looks down at her grey hoodie and beige pants, her hazel eyes covered in black-rimmed glasses, and she realizes she must look like shit in front of THE ALEXANDER VULCANE. "Have a seat, Miss Fye. Try to be mentally present during my lectures," the disapproval doesn't leave Alexander's forest eyes, and Skyler lets the shame sink her deeper into her seat, mentally facepalming.
"Nerd," someone whispers behind her mockingly, but she's learned from experience that giving them any attention won't do her any good.
She pushes away the image of onyx black eyes from her mind for the rest of the lecture, and to her utter surprise, she realizes that she enjoys the subject more than she expected. Alexander is an engaging lecturer, giving them practical examples to understand essential concepts, which makes it all easier to grasp. By the end of the lecture, she feels equal parts satisfied and guilty. Satisfied because she got a hang of most things, even has a few questions to email Alexander later, and guilty for letting her mind stray in the beginning.
She lays back, watching the students filter out of the class one by one, some of them staying back to ask Alexander questions. She finally musters up the courage to approach him as the last student walks away from him. "Sir?" she calls as she watches him put away his things.
Forest green eyes rise up to meet hers, and she realizes how tall he is compared to her now that they stand face-to-face. "Yes, Ms. Fye," he has a characteristic, no-bullshit tone of barristers, which serves to intimidate her a bit. "Do you have any questions?"
"No questions… I do, but, er, I'll email them to you later tonight. I just wanted to apologize again for my lack of attention earlier. I'm not always that distracted," She curses her mind once more when onyx eyes and tattooed bloody flesh flash behind her eyes.
"I sure would hope so, considering the amount of praise I've heard about you from the dean," he replies, forest eyes concentrating on packing up his laptop, his sleeves folded halfway through the lecture exposing the veiny length of his arms, and Skyler frowns at herself for picking up that detail. "Don't worry about it, alright?" He says after a long pause, taking pity on her.
"Yes, thank you, sir," she gulps, looking away.
"Have a good day, Ms. Fye." He nods dismissively, and Skyler rushes to get out of the room, a knot in her throat due to an emotion she can't name.
A confusing heat in her cheeks and belly that she can't understand
*
Ideally, she shouldn't be here.
She should be in her cozy little dorm in her comfy bed after having taken off her mask and makeup by now.
But storms and escort administration don't go very well together.
She was supposed to be picked up from the venue thirty minutes ago. Her date with Greyson ended earlier today as the race got canceled due to bad weather.
She didn't see Drystan today, even though her eyes looked for him everywhere, a knot of anticipation tightening in her core at the thought of him. Skyler isn't the type of girl who gets infatuated so easily, especially with dangerous men. That's how she has been able to preserve herself after being a part of the business for months. She's an escort who never sleeps with her clients; her boundaries are clear when it comes to that kind of service, and thankfully, the company's marketing team seems to love her, especially when she comes as a three-in-one package—three masks to hide her real identity. The company doesn't reveal that detail to her clients, marketing all her personas differently to drive better business.
Her interest in Drystan surprises her, the thought of him managing to light a flame under her skin, her body tightening in need each time she remembers the way he speaks, talks… breathes.
She's sitting in the shade with the security guards; the men know her by now, and after what happened last time, she is extra careful about not being alone. Greyson had profusely apologized for the incident, and Skyler should feel traumatized from the incident, but all of her thoughts are focused on Drystan.
Drystan, who isn't here tonight after asking her to cheer for him.
A black GMC Denali parks in front of the entrance, breaking her chain of thoughts, and she looks up as the window rolls down, her breath hitching when her gaze locks with Drystan. He walks around the car, his strut cock-sure like he has her exactly where he wanted.
"Fancy seeing you here, baby girl," he chuckles, and she rolls her eyes, trying to quell the instant attraction she feels. The guards greet him respectfully, not the way they greet bikers but the way they greet Greyson. Skyler safely tucks that observation in the back of her mind.
"Gloria, let me drop you home," but the tone of his voice suggests that he will be doing everything but dropping her home.
"My driver is on his way," wrong, she doesn't know that; the rain has made phone signals nonexistent.
"There's a storm coming, baby girl. You should come with me… You're holding up these guys from going to their families, too." He nods at the security guards, pulling at Skyler's guilty heart.
She sighs, not wanting to give in, but she has to agree that he is right. She curses her luck for rejecting Greyson when he offered to drop her off at the company.
"Okay,"
A slow, lazy smirk graces Drystan's lips.
*