Page 16 of The Puck Player

“Me?” I ask in confusion, moving to sit on my bed. “It’s not my fault those two are too horny to make it to Archer’s room,” I shrug. “They’re in the honeymoon phase.” I open her bag and pull out the books she had in the library, before pushing it aside and flicking to the pages we need.

“What does that even mean?” she asks, letting her eyes scan my room.

“The honeymoon phase? You know, the phase when a couple first gets together and they can’t keep their hands off one another? It’s PDA city around here these days between Archer, Nova, and Jake,” I grumble, reading over the work Mr. Rogers assigned her and rolling my eyes. No wonder she doesn’t fucking understand it, it’s bullshit.

“No, I don’t know how it is, purity ring remember,” she replies, slowly moving further into my room, not touching anything yet assessing everything.

“Ah yes, chastity belt agreement with the sky daddy.” I confirm with a nod, scribbling notes on her work, as she comes to a stop at my desk.

“Why do you have a picture of Sinclair Striker on your shelf?” she asks, and I look up to find her staring at the picture of my mother.

“You know her?” I question, tossing her books aside and pushing off my bed to join her.

“Know her? I love her! My mom and I have watched every single one of her shows, she’s amazing, and don’t even get me started on her clothing line, not that I could ever afford it, but my gosh she’s an absolute genius,” she gushes, and for the first time since I have met her there is a genuine pain-free smile on her face. I’m in awe. “Now why do you have her picture you pervert?” she snaps, snatching it from the shelf and turning to me with yet another glare, and I smirk.

“Well, I also happen to think she’s an absolute genius,” I muse, looking between her and the picture. “Beautiful, smart, and I have this picture because it’s from her last show, where she was pregnant with me.”

Her mouth drops open in surprise. “Sinclair Striker is your mother?”

I pull the frame from her hand and place it back on the shelf. “She goes by Sinclair Reign now, and yes.” Moving back towards my bed, she doesn’t follow, still staring between the picture and now me.

“How the hell did an angel like her birth a heathen like you?” she asks genuinely, and I bark a laugh.

“I’ll tell her you said that, it will make her laugh,” I reply, pulling out my phone to text my mother, and Aubree storms towards me and snatches it from my hand.

“You will tell Sinclair Striker no such thing,” she demands, and I can’t help but smirk.

This tutoring thing is going to be fun.

I’m not sure how I got here, how I went from avoiding the annoying playboy to hanging off every word he says, but here we are. In the last two hours I have learned a number of things about the blond Prince Charming, and all of them are slightly unbelievable. First, Alexander Reign might just be the smartest person I have ever met. Second, he somehow knows exactly how to explain things to me in a way I can understand them. And third, I absolutely loathe the first two things on this list.

Alexander and I are both sitting side by side at his desk after he stole an extra chair from Archer’s room, and he’s in the middle of explaining one of his businesses to help me understand the first half of questions on the paper from Mr. Rogers. He somehow has the ability to make everything soundsimple and easy, while also using words I’ve never heard before in the most eloquent and thought out explanation ever. It’s both fascinating and infuriating, and also the longest he has gone without flirting with me since we met. I hate to admit it, and I wouldn’t unless under severe duress, but he’s actually a great tutor.

“That’s why I do an investment analysis before anything else, because if you want to make more money, then you have to be confident in where it’s going,” he continues, cutting into my thoughts, and I track his mouse as it flies across the screen and brings up yet another chart. “See this one, I didn’t do enough research because it was an old friend from school, and it resulted in a big loss,” he adds casually, flicking to another document and pointing out numbers for me to see.

“You lost two million dollars?” I question in shock, almost sure that I’ve read it wrong or there is a typo or something, but apparently not.

“Pounds, and yeah that really ruined my morning workout that one,” he muses mindlessly, moving back to his laptop screen and pulling up something else, but all I can do is stare at the not typo in despair.

I know Evie joked a couple of times about him being rich, but what she forgot to mention is that he isn’t just rich, he’s insanely wealthy. Like wealth that usually only comes from generations, with figures so high they’re almost obscene and unbelievable, yet you would never guess it applied to Alexander. Yeah he’s a cocky asshole, but after sitting here for the last two hours, I can also see he is passionate and hardworking. He cares about his companies, donates a ridiculously high amount to a variety of charities, and still seems down to earth. I don’t feel inferior in his presence, even sitting here with him tutoring me on business. It doesn’t matter that our tax brackets will never even be close to aligning, or that my knowledge is severely lacking, still he treatsme with nothing but respect. So much so that I almost can’t compare this version of him with the one I originally came to know over the last week.

How can a cocky, playboy asshole jock also be a kind and compassionate brainiac?

“So that covers the extent of what Mr. Roger’s expects, but I’ll put together a reference document for you and add some extra stuff that I think will be useful,” he declares, eyes still focused on the screen.

“Oh no, you don’t have to do that, I’ve taken plenty of notes,” I start to disagree, holding up my notebook as evidence, but he dismisses me with a wave of his hand.

“It’s no trouble, love, it will be useful to have it online and then I can add to it whenever we start a new topic in class,” he replies distractedly, already pulling up a document and labeling it ‘Aubree’.

“Well, thank you, you have no idea how much I appreciate this,” I admit softly, not wanting to get into the reasons I’m behind, but needing him to know I’m grateful.

With my words he stops typing and turns to cock a brow at me. “Now now, Trouble, don’t start being nice to me or my dick will get confused.” He pairs his words with a wink and I almost scoff, as the playboy I have come to know returns.

“Just when I thought you were starting not to be an asshole,” I reply with a shake of my head, forcing myself not to smile at his bullshit.

His only response is to tap the computer screen with a wink. “A rich asshole, remember?”

I shake my head pushing back from his desk. “You’re insufferable.”

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