Billionaire's Second Chance

“Our guest has taken time off his incredibly busy schedule in order to speak in front of you today. Most of you probably know him by name – if not, you should if you want to get anywhere in the world of finance. This school and many professors far more capable and venerated than myself have been trying to get him to come and speak for years, but he has only now found the time. So we should consider ourselves extremely grateful.”

You could slice the anticipation in the room with a knife. Everyone was suddenly sitting upright with perfect posture, and the guy in front of me, who usually napped through class, was ready with a notebook and a pen. It was rare for the whole class to be so alert and present.

“Who is it?” a couple of students asked, unable to conceal their excitement.

“He is a young man – much younger than myself, to my shame – who has taken a family empire and built it into an incredible corporation. Students, please let me welcome, Mr. Zayden Sinclair, owner and Chief Executive Officer of South National Bank!”

Wait, what? I must have heard that wrong…it couldn’t possibly be? No, no, no. This was just not happening. He wasn’t going to walk into my classroom right now, it had to be some kind of a sick joke. Maybe there was someone else with that name? Hah, I was being stupid. One Zayden Sinclair who was the CEO of South National was more than the world could or needed to take. I pinched myself, hoping to wake up from a bizarre dream, and jumped with pain.

Unable to take my eyes off the front of the classroom, I waited in a panic. Maybe he would cancel? Could I stealthily escape the classroom before anyone noticed? I could pretend to faint, nobody was going to see any reason for me to fake passing out, since nobody knew about Zayden and I. And I was in Mr. Weber’s full confidence; he would never suspect me of ditching a class for no reason. Yes, I could totally pull that off!

But just as I was gathering the courage to fall down flat on to the floor, Zayden walked in, looking like he just zoomed out of a magazine, and staring right ahead at me. The class broke into loud applause, as though they had just seen the president of the United States. He caught my eye with a sly twitch of his mouth, his face ridden with amusement, and I looked away. I would have a full-fledged panic attack at any moment.

“Welcome, Mr. Sinclair,” Mr. Weber said cheerfully. “Thank you so much for coming here to speak with our students today. The class collectively could not be more excited!”

“Is that so?” Zayden asked Mr. Weber with a slight laugh. “Collectively? Each and every one of them? Are you sure?” He was facing Mr. Weber, but looking at me from the corner of his eyes.

If there were ever a time to want to disappear into the ground beneath me, it was right in that moment.

“Of course!” Mr. Weber exclaimed in pure delight. Gosh, did he have to sound so ridiculously excited? “In fact, I h

ave never seen my whole class so alert this early in the morning before. Everyone is awake, for starters.”

Zayden chuckled, sending goosebumps down my spine. If only he didn’t look so damn good, my life would be so much easier.

“That is very flattering. It is very nice to see you all,” he said, now directly looking at me. “I have some questions for you all, before I start yapping endlessly. Any volunteers?”

The whole class raised their hands as high up in the air as they went. Except me, which was a mistake, because it caught Mr. Weber’s attention.

“Aria, why don’t I see your hand up in the air?” he asked, looking almost hurt, as though I had personally offended him.

Shit. Great, Aria. What a wonderful way not to draw attention to yourself. Should have just blended with the crowd!

“Uh, not sure I am quite up for inquisition just now,” I said, looking at neither Mr. Weber nor Zayden, and instead focusing hard on the concrete below me. I didn’t even notice how hard I was clutching onto my dress until my palms started to hurt.

“What do you mean you’re not up for inquisition?” Mr. Weber asked completely perplexed. He was used to a very different version of me altogether. I wished there was a way to communicate to him that I would rather swallow a vial of rat poison than be in that room without offending him. “Are you feeling alright?”

There was my cue. No, say no, Aria. It would then be easily over with and I could probably escape and not have to deal with this whole ordeal. But I froze, unable to say a single word. I made a feeble attempt at shaking my head but I doubt it looked like anything other than an involuntary shudder.

“You seem pretty alright, Miss… Aria, was it?” I heard Zayden’s voice.

“Yes, Aria Roberts. She is one of our best and brightest,” Mr. Weber said proudly. “In fact, I am not sure you know – you have thousands of employees after all – but she is already advancing her career in banking by working as a teller at South National.”

“Ah,” Zayden said, flashing me a look of pure amusement. “That’s where I know that face from! It all makes sense now. I am glad to hear young talent like yourself works for me, Ms. Roberts.”

There was a definitely intonation in his voice – especially a stress in the words talent and works, like he wasn’t quite talking about my skills in banking.

“Since you were the least eager to answer my questions, I suspect you will be the most honest in your responses.” He looked at Mr. Weber. “Should I proceed?”

“Of course! Ask her anything!” he exclaimed.

“These questions are basically a screening of how much your students have learned before I go on to speak about my own experiences. I want to tailor them to what is relevant to your students. As such, complete honesty about the material covered is essential.”

“What do you want to know?” I asked, still looking at Mr. Weber.

He shook his head. “No, no, not here. It would be best if I could speak with you briefly in private, for maybe 15 minutes, so you feel more comfortable answering with honesty. My questions will pertain to this class too, and perhaps there are things you wouldn’t want your professor and fellow classmates to know.”

“I am perfectly comfortable right here, thanks,” I snapped, unable to handle it anymore. Hopefully nobody caught the bitterness in my voice, and even if they did, there was no way they could guess what it was about. “You can ask me anything,” I added more evenly. “And you will get an honest answer. There is nothing I have to say about Mr. Weber or this class that he wouldn’t like to hear.”