How to Train Your Ex-Billionaire novel Chapter 7

After Judith and the others left, a heavy silence fell over the classroom.

Winifred glanced at Yvan, then looked down at the floor and whispered, “Thank you.”

Yvan, hands shoved in his pockets, struck a defiant pose. “Too quiet. Didn’t hear you.”

Winifred felt a flush of embarrassment and raised her voice slightly. “I said, thank you.”

It still wasn’t very loud.

Yvan let out a small scoff. “Thanks? How are you planning to thank me?”

Winifred hadn't expected him to say that. She froze for a few seconds before asking quietly, “How do you want me to thank you?”

“Be my girlfriend.”

Winifred’s head snapped up, her eyes wide with shock.

“What? You don’t want to?” Yvan stared down at her.

Winifred nervously curled her fingers. “I—I’m not planning on dating,” she stammered.

Pinecrest Preparatory School was relatively liberal; dating wasn't encouraged, but it wasn't forbidden either. She knew of at least two couples in her class.

But in her old town, it was strictly prohibited, a punishable offense. Her teachers there had constantly drilled into them that dating in high school was a cardinal sin that would ruin their studies and waste their time.

So, in her mind, it was wrong.

She had always been a good student, someone who followed the rules.

Besides, with final exams just six months away, she didn’t want any distractions.

The classroom was quiet for a moment before Yvan leaned in close, looking down at her. “Where did your mind go? You think I actually like you? Take a look in the mirror. You think I’d be interested in… this?”

Winifred’s face burned. “Then why…?”

Yvan straightened up, leaning back against the desk in his usual lazy posture. “You’re not the only good student who doesn’t want to date. I don’t either. You said you wanted to thank me, right? So, be my girlfriend—in name only. Help me get all these clingy girls off my back, and we’ll call it even.”

Winifred picked up a few groceries from a small market on the way and headed upstairs.

There was no elevator, and the concrete stairs were another testament to the building’s age.

She had just walked in the door when her phone rang.

It was her mother, Queena Spencer.

“Mom, what’s up?”

“Winifred, what happened with that guy Lisa introduced you to, the one who just returned from overseas? Why didn’t you go meet him?”

Queena’s tone was accusatory from the start.

Winifred set down her groceries and her bag, her expression unchanging. “Mom, I told you, I’m not interested in dating right now.”

“If not now, then when? Are you going to wait until you’re an old maid?” Queena snapped. “You’re already twenty-six. A woman’s best years are now. Once you hit thirty, you’ll be the one getting picked over, not the one doing the picking.”