Months went by in peaceful seasons, and Luke Jansen sometimes asked about my opinion on a particular stock or give life's advice. At times, it was I who asked for his help with my concerns.
"How's your stylist been teaching you?" he asked one time during a web call. He was engrossed in reading a book, not even sparing me a glance.
"Eva Hart has done more than a decent job." My reply was short, but the high pitch tone of my voice said I 'am pleased.
Eva Hart is a rising stylist and fashion designer. Her motto 'simple, elegant, and comfortable.' True to her ideals, her designs have always been simple, not too flashy. Her used of pastel-colored fabrics makes one look gentle and mature. She used materials that were comfy to the skin. Types were you couldn't resist touching. Her designs were also conservative, yet highlighting a woman's curves.
Eva Hart flew to our house once a week to teach my brothers and me all about fashion. From the simple bun of the hair to the contours of makeup down to the type of shoes.
"I'm glad to know that my money for her fees didn't go to waste," Luke Jansen remarked with a flat voice, but didn't bother to hide the mirth on his face.
Really! This old man is just like father. Indifferent on the outside, but warm on the inside.
I shot him a smile. At first, I wanted to pay for Eva's fees, but he brushed me off, saying with a disgusted tone, "To let someone pay for the person I hired is like letting that person pay for me."
I don't understand how rich people think. I also didn't like owning favors, but if it were offered to me for free without asking anything in return, then I would gladly accept it.
Unfortunately, Luke Jansen didn't like to owe anyone, whether free or not. His pride is like his life!
Are all naturally born rich people think like this?
Though I was not paying for Eva's fees, I still invested in her. Not long after, almost half of my closet was occupied by her designs.
Luke Jansen closed his book and met my eyes. "Having that done with, Fredrick e-mailed you the list of your classes and their corresponding instructors."
I checked my e-mail. True enough, I saw a list of classes and corresponding names, and my brows crumpled.
"Self-defense, swimming, horse riding, shooting, driving, piano, violin, etiquette, language, and cooking?" I raised my eyebrow at him. "You do know that I'm only one person, right? How do you expect me to divide myself into these classes?"
Luke Jansen got up from his chair and taking his time, he walked towards the curtain wall with his hands clasped behind his back. His back facing me, he looked over the sky from his hundred-story office.
"This classes, you should have learned them when you were younger," he said, breaking the silence. "But since it's already too late, we can only make do of the moment. Learning these classes until you graduate from high school should be enough to cover lost time."
"Oh! So you do know that I'm a high school student. Tell me honestly, you're not planning on letting me sleep, aren't you?" My brows furrowed even deeper, forming a line.
"Your school is just a little unknown school. It can be arranged," he snorted.
My eyes rolled and I took a deep breath, pondering for a moment. There was nothing to think about. I'd already gone through high school in my previous life. And frankly speaking, I'd rather do all the classes he said than waste my time on a school that only teach me how to be an employee.
"Alright, when will we start?"
"Next week."
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A/N
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