The Family Business 3(85)
Yosef wasn’t much older than us, but he was the one person in the school who I truly respected. Not only was he built like a Mack truck but he was also capable of killing you with his bare hands without giving it much thought. I knew better than to piss him off too much because he could make your death look like an accident. It would take me years to know all of his secrets, but during our “private” lessons I made sure to get extra instruction, which somehow turned intimate over the past year. He wasn’t the first man I’d ever slept with; however, he was the only one who put fear in my heart. As much as I pretended to hate, it I found it sexy as hell. Most men who acted all tough got the * and promptly turned into pussies. But not him; he kept sex and work separate, and right at this moment he was all business, which basically meant I was f*cked, because I’d never seen him this upset.
“You need to gather your things and get to the headmistress’, office,” he said as he led me through the tunnel that connected to the catacombs and back into the main building. It was the perfect place to flip this shit in my favor. I darted ahead of him, stopping and blocking his path.
“Yosef, she started it,” I whined, flirting with him. He held up one finger, silencing me. Damn, even deep in the shit he made me get all moist and turned on. I leaned closer to him, brushing my lips against his neck.
“Please.”
“Paris, you are such a hellion!” he snapped at me.
“Isn’t that what you like about me?” I slid my hand over the outline of his penis. It quickly hardened under my touch. “Instead of sending me to the office, wouldn’t you prefer me putting my lips on this?” I rubbed his growing dick, motivating him to cave.
An hour later I found myself sitting in front of the headmistress, Madame Joan Marie, as she gave me her version of a come-to-Jesus talking-to. Yosef got the goods and still sold me out.
“Do you realize what you have done? Ms. Kim is from one of our most important families in South Korea. Imagine the conversation I will be having when her father arrives today. Do you want to explain to him why his daughter needs extensive oral surgery?”
“No, Madame,” I answered submissively.
“Young lady, you are among the best and brightest students to ever cross the threshold of our establishment,” she continued in her thick French accent. “Rarely have I gleamed such raw potential in a person your age but you are also your own worst enemy. You act as if rules only apply to others. And no matter how many times I’ve talked, you continue to disobey orders and protocol, and now you have proven to be a danger to others.”
“Madame, I am so sorry for my behavior. It really was an accident,” I lied, trying to sound as apologetic as possible so I could be on my way. I was ready for my vacation to begin.
“Mademoiselle Duncan, I believe that you believe that your apology is genuine. Then again, you always sound sincere after you’ve crossed a line. Unfortunately, the very next moment you rush headfirst into more conflict. I cannot allow you to continue to remain a hazard to the other students and to yourself.”
She stood back, studying me. I tried to appear as vulnerable and defenseless as possible. If only this had been a man I’d have talked my way out of it already, but women didn’t always get my charm. Finally she shook her head, resigned. “I must contact your father.”
My bad attitude deflated and her words set off loud, scary bells in my head. Danger! Danger! “Nooooo!” The panic rang out in my voice. Anything but that. My father would have my head, and that would only be the beginning of my demise. “I promise I will change. Please give me another chance to make you proud. To make my father proud. Please, Madame,” I begged and pleaded. This time I meant every word because I had never been more desperate. If my dad knew that I was over here in Switzerland showing my ass and messing with his name it would be bad.
“You will have to change both your behavior and your attitude,” she continued.
“I will. I promise.”
“I sincerely hope that my decision to give you one more chance will not be wasted.”
“No, Madame.” I leaned up and gave her a quick squeeze, something you just didn’t do with these Nordic types. She looked shocked. Shit, I would have dropped to my knees and had my first try at cunnilingus if it would have prevented her from calling my father.
“Good! Now we are done with this unpleasant conversation.” She opened the door and led me into her outer office, where a group of students were gathered in front of the fire.
I joined her, partaking in the roaring flames, tapping my foot on the wooden floorboards beside my matching Louis Vuitton luggage. I threw on my designer sunglasses and quarter-length fur despite the heat being produced by the fireplace. Felt good to be out of my school uniform, so I bit my tongue and kept my impatience to myself while the jealous hoes who were my classmates looked on. They’d never be as fly as me and they knew it. Nor would they know how close I came to being a former student.
Psh . . . finishing school.
Luckily, my electives—while not my raison d’être, but my reason for being here—were da bomb dot com.
“Mademoiselle Duncan, you will be sure to enjoy yourself back home in the U.S., no?” Madame Joan Marie asked as she kissed me on both cheeks. Right before removing my sunglasses and placing them back in my hand. Of course, she meant the opposite of what she and her big-ass smile said. You had to look beyond that and into those tiny, cold eyes of hers. She wanted me to behave myself back home. Rein a bitch in ’n’ shit.