Men and their cars-was a love affair as old as time, or so they say. Skyler would never dare to touch
Zavier’s ride without his express permission. She chuckled. “I’ve only just turned eighteen recently, and
still haven’t got my driver’s license. But no worries, I had a hearty breakfast this morning. A walk will do
me good. It will help me digest.”
Marissa nodded in understanding. “Alright, just give me a ring if you need anything.”
“Thanks a bunch!” Skyler replied with a grateful smile.
Little did Skyler expect that walking out of the suburban neighborhood would take much longer than
she had anticipated, almost a whole half hour more. Once she made it out, she whipped out her phone
to call an Uber. True to Marissa’s word, catching a ride wasn’t easy here, and she ended up waiting
nearly another half hour before a driver finally accepted her request.
By the time she got into the car, it was already noon. The ride was smooth sailing from there on, and
she arrived at her destination in about half an hour.e2
Stepping out of the car, Skyler popped into the first diner she saw to grab a quick lunch before heading
to her music audition.
The receptionist at the company was all smiles and politeness, directing Skyler to the right floor and
even escorting her to the elevator. “Skyler, you’re heading to room 806 on the eighth floor.”
“Got it, thanks,” Skyler replied.
Upon reaching the eighth floor, a quick right turn brought her to room 806. She knocked on the door
and, hearing an invitation to enter, pushed the door open. “Hello, is this Braiden’s office?”
The man at the desk looked up, taken aback for a moment, but quickly recovered with a friendly, “Miss
Skyler, you are quite the sight for sore eyes!”
“Thank you kindly,” Skyler responded with a polite smile.
Braiden cleared his throat. “Please, have a seat!”
Settling across from him, Skyler awaited his next words.
“I’ve perused your resume. You play a variety of instruments. Typically, being a jack of all trades
doesn’t mean you’re a master of any, but we’re on the lookout for a violin instructor with exceptional
skills. If it’s not too much trouble, could I ask you to play something for me right now?”
“No trouble at all,” Skyler assured him.
“Great, follow me to the music room, please.”
Whether it was Skyler’s charm or Braiden’s naturally amiable disposition, he treated her with utmost
courtesy throughout their interaction.
In the music room, Skyler picked up the violin and played a piece that left Braiden’s eyes sparkling with
enthusiasm. “Miss Skyler, we have a client in quite a rush. Would you be available to come with me to
their place right now to see what you can do?”
“Braiden, I should be upfront with you. I’ll be starting school in a few days. As I’ve noted on my resume,
I can only tutor during my free time.”
“Understood. This client is rather special. They’re not short on cash or quality instructors; the challenge
is their son, a real handful. No teacher has managed to complete even one lesson with him. If you can
pull this off, it could be quite lucrative for you.”
“Alright, I’ll give it a shot. Skyler had never instructed children before and wasn’t sure she could
manage it, but the promise of a paycheck was enough to make her try. Without a teaching certificate to
her name, she realized she couldn’t be picky when an opportunity arose.
But nothing could have prepared Skyler for the level of wealth she encountered when Braiden drove
her to the client’s home. They weren’t just rich; they were a stone’s throw away from the Rivera family’s
level of affluence.
And, by some twist of fate, Zavier was there too.
As the butler ushered her and Braiden into the living room, Skyler immediately noticed Zavier lounging
on the sofa, legs casually crossed, headphones on, engrossed in his mobile game, blissfully unaware
of her arrival.
Across from him sat a boy of similar age, dangling a ten-year-old by the arm.
On the way there, Braiden had filled Skyler in on the family: the Hortons, a well-known name in the
Capital. The parents were always busy, leaving the eldest son, Garrett, in charge of his younger
brother, Victor’s, education.
Victor, pouting, protested, “Garrett, I’ve told you, I’m not learning to play the violin. It doesn’t matter who
you bring in to teach me, I won’t do it.”
Victor!” Garrett’s voice was a mix of frustration and sternness.
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