Forbidden Love: Fate (Zac and Ivy Trilogy Book 1)
intensely at me like that, making me feel uncomfortable in
my own skin. I subconsciously pull on my sleeve to cover up my
wrist and let my hair cover my forehead a bit more, an action I
always do when I’m uncomfortable.
    I admit he takes my breath away, what with
his blackish disheveled hair in his eyes and his tall, lean body
that looks like he’s just jumped out of a Calvin Klein poster,
despite the crutches and white cast on his leg and all. I can’t
help but keep stealing quick peeks at him underneath my lashes.
Then I realize I’m simply behaving in an odd way. This guy, despite
his superior genes, is still a total stranger, and strangers should
never be trusted. So I harden my heart a bit more, willing it not
to beat too loudly just because this hot guy is standing here.
    “What’s your name?” he asks.
    I don’t respond because I think he’s still
talking to Gigi, but then he repeats his question. I look up and
answer him.
    “Ivy.”
    “Umm. Ivy,” he says, like he’s caressing my
name with his tongue.
    Despite trying to look unaffected, I can
still feel my cheeks growing warmer.
    “Tell your Aunt Vivi to make sure she finds
all her evidence and has witnesses available for testifying before accusing people of a crime. Could you do that for
me?”
    Even though he’s talking to Moon, that last
sentence is directed at me.
    “Mmm.” Moon bobs her head up and down,
drawing his attention back to her.
    He straightens, gives Moon another ruffle on
her head, thanks Gigi again, then turns to me, giving me another of
his mysterious looks before hobbling away and exiting the hospital.
My heart doesn’t stop racing until I get home.
    When I arrive, I get a call from the PHST
program at the hospital, which Mandy advised me to enroll in, a
great distraction that I welcome with open arms. At least I won’t
be thinking about that guy, Zacky, and his intense and
electrocuting stare.
    The call informs me I’ve been accepted. I’m
very happy. Now I can earn more money. This means I can put more
into my savings account to go towards university for my law degree
and save another portion aside for Gigi’s and Moon’s medical
care.
    My new student is a recently released
patient in need of extra help in algebra.
    Perfect. Just my field of expertise.
    The next day, I arrive in front of my
student’s residence with feelings of trepidation and nervousness.
My student lives on the eighth floor of a very posh building in the
grand location of St. Clair, a very well-established area,
overlooking the pristine St. Clair Beach.
    Hopping into the elevator, it’s only a short
trip before the door dings open again. I step out, look for
apartment number eight, and then freeze. My limbs won’t move, even
when I demand them to. No matter how many times I tell my heart to
stop the thrashing sound against my ribcage, it won’t.
    No. I can do this. My first home tutoring
job. I’m stepping towards the future, towards a life without
regret.
    My heartbeat gradually slows. Taking another
deep breath, I knock on the door. A second later, the door opens to
reveal a Mediterranean middle-age-looking lady. She smiles at
me.
    “Hi. My name is Ivy. I’m here to tutor
someone named Zachary,” I tell her.
    “Hm. Master is inside,” she says politely,
letting me in. “I will go get him. You are welcome to wait in the
study.”
    She leads me into the study, then goes out
again to look for Zachary.
    Having nothing to do but wait for my student
to appear, I wander around the room, looking at all the ornaments
on display.
    I conclude that whoever owns this apartment
must be wealthy. Firstly, there are lots of trophies in the shape
of golf balls. It’s like a shrine. I’ve never played golf before,
but from what I’ve heard, anyone who plays golf could be considered
rich.
    Moving along, I find another shrine, this
time of sheet music. Many lie scattered around on the table. I pick
one up, looking at all the swirly lines and weird

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