Surviving the Walton Circus
Hannah
If someone had told me that starting a tutoring job at the estate of the richest man in the world would involve navigating a minefield of mini-dictators, scheming staff, and passive-aggressive billionaires... I would have laughed. Then probably cried. Then laughed some more because crying would look like weakness.
Welcome to my life.
I arrived just after breakfast, still nursing my bruised knee and a growing sense that my life had officially become a low-budget action movie with terrible lighting and questionable dialogue. My brief glimpse of Benjamin earlier had been... unsettling, to say the least. He was everything I hadn't expected. Handsome, intimidating, infuriating, and somehow... compelling. And let's not even talk about how he had just seen me limping and still hadn't thrown me out.
I took a deep breath, plastered on a smile, and stepped inside, trying to look like the responsible, highly competent, not-recently-drunk, soon-to-be-perfect tutor I had promised myself I could be.
Susan Collins was waiting in the foyer. Of course she was. Of course.
She gave me that tight-lipped, smile-half warm welcome, half warning shot. The kind of smile that said, I know your type, young lady, and I will eat you alive if you screw up.
"Miss Milton," she said smoothly, extending her hand. I shook it, trying to ignore the little thrill of irritation I felt. She then signaled a man to get my luggage. The woman practically radiated superiority. And jealousy. Definitely jealousy.
"Good morning, Susan," I said brightly. "Lovely day for teaching future geniuses, isn't it?"
Her eyes flicked at my limp, the faint bruise peeking through my skirt, and her expression tightened. "Yes. Very... educational." She didn't elaborate, which in my experience meant she was plotting something. Classic villain behavior.
Before I could respond, Alex barreled down the grand staircase, nearly tripping over his own feet. "Hannah! Come quick! Daddy says it's time for math... but also for fun!"
I groaned inwardly. Fun was usually code for chaos with sugar on top. Still, I squared my shoulders. "Lead the way, math genius."
Adam toddled behind him, dragging a stuffed giraffe and looking at me with those big, trusting eyes. "I get to sit on your lap!"
I nearly melted. Nope. Don't melt. Focus. "Not today, little man. But close enough."
Benjamin appeared at the top of the staircase, arms crossed, observing with that I-am-rich-and-you-are-not expression that made my heart skip in irrational ways.
"Miss Milton," he said, voice calm but firm. "I trust the children are behaving?"
I shot him a sideways glance. "I can handle them. I've survived worse... like people with wooden planks and mistaken intentions."
He arched an eyebrow. "Ah. The hiking incident."
I waved a hand dismissively. "A minor misunderstanding. Easily solved with a small dose of heroism and a large dose of panic."
He didn't laugh, but there was a flicker-an eyebrow twitch, maybe a hint of amusement. Progress.
Susan cleared her throat. "They are... very excited to meet you."
Alex looked up at her, frowning. "Susan, she's not like you. She's... fun."
Susan's face hardened. "Fun is not the goal here, Alexander."
I stifled a laugh. Fun is definitely the goal when survival depends on distracting them long enough to actually learn something.
We settled in the sunroom. Alex immediately began scribbling numbers on a whiteboard while Adam climbed onto my lap and insisted I tell him a story about "the girl who fights cars and villains."
I glanced at Benjamin, who was leaning against the doorway, arms folded, expression unreadable. "I promise, Adam, this story has a happy ending."
He looked skeptical. I didn't blame him. I was still bruised, limping, and probably looked like a trainwreck in a designer dress.
"Miss Milton," Benjamin said, stepping closer, "how exactly do you plan to teach multiplication to a six-year-old while keeping him entertained?"
I smirked. "With a combination of storytelling, snacks, and... intense charisma."
Benjamin raised an eyebrow. "Intense charisma?"
"Trust me," I said, leaning toward Adam. "You want intense charisma."
Adam giggled, clapping his hands. Alex rolled his eyes, muttering something about "seriously, Miss, why are you like this?"
Benjamin's gaze flicked between us. "I see. And this... intense charisma... is it effective?"
I shrugged. "So far, so good. My biggest challenge isn't teaching-they actually like learning-but rather surviving the wrath of staff members who apparently have something personal against me."
Susan's jaw tightened. "I assure you, Miss Milton, that's not the case."
"Uh-huh," I said, voice dripping with mock sincerity. "And I'm sure your plan to subtly sabotage me is purely imaginary, right?"
Benjamin's lips twitched. That twitch again. Almost a smile. He's trying not to smile, I realized. I could practically see the mental gears grinding behind those perfect hazel eyes.
Susan cleared her throat, muttering something about "professionalism" and "standards."
I waved her off. "Relax, Susan. I'm not here to steal your crown. I'm here to teach numbers... and occasionally save the lives of your boss's children."
Benjamin's expression softened slightly. He leaned against the doorway, one hand brushing through his hair. He looked... human. Vulnerable, even. And dangerously appealing.
I caught him staring at me, just slightly, and decided to poke the bear. "Yes, I know I saved your son. I also know I limped into your garden looking like a wounded warrior. And yet... here I am. Alive. Relatively intact. And ready to teach."
He raised an eyebrow. "You do have a flair for dramatics."
"Dramatics? Me? Never." I shot Adam a playful wink. "Just ask the boy who witnessed the car incident firsthand. I'm basically a legend in my own lunchtime."
Adam cheered. Alex groaned. Benjamin... let's just say the eyebrow lift could have been an entire novel.
Susan frowned, muttering under her breath. "This is not how we do things here..."
I leaned back, pretending to ignore her. "Oh, don't worry. I'll teach the kids. You can supervise... emotionally."
Benjamin's lips twitched again. "You are... bold." he said.
"Bold? Sarcastic? Heroic? Take your pick. I'm all of the above."
I spent the next hour juggling multiplication tables, storytelling, and very small threats of minor parental embarrassment (mostly involving imaginary dragons and treasure hunts). The children were riveted. Benjamin watched quietly, leaning against the wall, his gaze following me like a hawk disguised as a human.
And I, of course, noticed every little detail: the slight crease in his brow when Adam made a mistake, the way his arms flexed when he adjusted his cufflinks, the faint exhale when Alex finally solved a tricky problem.
By the end of the session, the boys were laughing, learning, and generally looking up at me with admiration bordering on worship. I straightened, brushing imaginary dust from my hands. "And that, gentlemen, is how you turn math into an adventure. You're welcome."
Benjamin's gaze met mine. "You... have a way of commanding attention."
I smiled, ever so slightly, leaning on the table with mock gravitas. "I've been told it's a gift. Along with my knack for dramatic heroism, excellent posture while limping, and... sarcasm."
He didn't smile, but he didn't frown either. That was dangerous. That was the expression of someone assessing, calculating... and maybe, just maybe... intrigued.
Susan, of course, looked horrified. "This is highly irregular," she said.
I shrugged. "Irregular is my middle name. Well, not literally, but you get the point."
Benjamin's gaze softened slightly, just enough to betray interest, but not enough to ruin his reputation as the untouchable billionaire. I made a mental note: the man has a poker face worth a million dollars. Literally. Probably more.
The boys clambered onto the couch, still buzzing with energy. Adam leaned against me, whispering, "I like her, Daddy. She's fun!"
I shot Benjamin a wink. "See? You can't argue with that logic."
Benjamin exhaled slowly. "No, I... suppose you're right."
I grinned. Victory never tasted so sweet-though I knew the battle with Susan was far from over. She was a storm I had yet to fully understand, but at least for now, I had Benjamin's reluctant approval.
And maybe... just maybe... that approval was starting to feel... complicated.
Very, very complicated.
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