Page 3 of Royally Taught

“Dad,” I answer.

“Hey, Jay,” he responds, he sounds happy, which is a good sign.

“You good, dad?”

“Yeah, wanted to see if you’d be home next month.”

His words hit me. Christ. I forgot. It’s been seventeen years since my mom died. The anniversary of her death is next month. How the hell did I forget?

“Yeah, dad, I’ll be there.” I won’t miss it for the fucking world.

I hear the relief filled sigh and know that he was worried I wouldn’t be there. “That’s good, son, it’ll be good to see you.”

Fuck. I shouldn’t be holding back. I see dad twice a year, and that’s it. I should make more of a conscious effort to see him more. I should put the past in the past. “I’ll do better,” I promise him.

The doorbell rings, and I move toward it, my cell at my ear. “Son,” he says softly, I can hear the turmoil in his voice. “I get why you haven’t. I wasn’t exactly father of the year to you. When you needed me, I was at my lowest, when I should have been at my strongest.”

I pull the door open and see Anastasia standing there, her big blue eyes wide and filled with shock. Did she not realize that I would be her tutor? Did she not see the email address? It’s the same one she uses to correspond to me. I wave her in and focus back on my father.

“It’s in the past,” I say as I lead her into the living room and gesture at her to sit down. She’s still in shock. Once she takes a seat, I turn and walk to the kitchen, I need to finish the conversation with my father. “You were grieving,” I say. It’s something I’ve learned myself over the years. He was sunk in grief. “I get that, you could have drowned in it, but you didn’t, you pulled yourself from it.” I should have respected it. Instead of letting the distance spread between us and the wedge stay, I should have mended the fence.

“I appreciate that, son, I really do. But we both know that I made mistakes when your mom died. I should have stepped up to the plate, should have been there with you when you were grieving.”

“Grief does crazy shit, dad. It had me moving across the country. Like I said, I’ll do better.”

He’s silent for a beat. I hear the ragged breath, and I have a feeling that he’s crying. “That would be good, Jay. I’ll do better too.”

“Sounds good, I’ll call you next week.” That’ll be the start, connecting at least once a week.

“Looking forward to it, Jay, I truly am.”

“Me too, dad, I’ll speak soon. Bye.”

“Love you, son, goodbye.”

The call ends, and I feel as though I’m completely wrecked. Like I’ve ran a marathon. My emotions are fraught. But I have Anastasia waiting for me in the living room, and I have a job to do. I grab two bottles of water from the fridge.

“I’m sorry, I’m early,” Anastasia says softly.

I shake my head. “You’re fine. You’re prompt, it’s better than being late. Did you bring your books?” I hand her a bottle which she takes from me. “We should get started.”

She smiles at me. “Yes, sir.”

Christ. Hearing her call me sir has my cock twitching. This isn’t good. I can’t trust myself around her. I want her more than anything. My blood heats at the sight of her. I’m so confused about the way that I’m reacting to her. It’s not happened before, and I can’t fathom why it’s happening now.

She’s my fucking student.

I take a seat next to her but manage to keep some distance between us. I have a plan of what I want to help her with, already set. I know the aspects that she’s struggling with during class, so I want to focus on that first and get her into a position where she’ll be comfortable going forward with the work.

Having the space between us doesn’t make a bit of a difference. Her sweet floral scent hits me with every movement she makes.

I notice pretty quickly that she’s more of a visual learner. So I switch it up, teaching her more animatedly. I watch as she beams, she’s retaining more this way.

Over an hour, we go over things, and she seems more receptive to understanding them. She’s also scooted closer to me, the heat of her body is hot against mine. I can feel her hair tickle my skin.

I bite back a curse. I’m only human, and the woman is making it hard on me. I’m struggling. I’m not sure how long I can keep this up. I want her. I really fucking want her.

“Anastasia,” I say low.

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