The Tuition

I'm twenty-three years old, and I'm about to sell myself.

That's what this is, no matter how the website dresses it up. "Mutually beneficial arrangements." "Sophisticated companionship." "Sugar dating." Pretty words for ugly math: I need forty-two thousand dollars to finish my master's degree, and the man sitting across from me could spend that much on a watch without blinking.

Victor Hale is forty-eight. I know because I researched him obsessively before agreeing to this meeting—founder of Hale Technologies, net worth somewhere in the billions, divorced twice, no children. The photos online don't do him justice. They show a businessman: polished, calculated, forgettable in the way powerful men often are.

In person, he's devastating.

Silver threading through dark hair at his temples. A jawline that could cut glass. Eyes the color of whiskey in firelight, and they're fixed on me with an intensity that makes my skin prickle.

"You're nervous," he observes. Not a question.

"Is it that obvious?"

"You've shredded your napkin." He nods toward my hands, and I look down to find white confetti scattered across my lap. "It's understandable. First arrangement?"

"First meeting." I force my hands to still. "I don't know if I'm going to agree to anything yet."

His lips curve. Not quite a smile—more like amusement at watching a small animal pretend to be fierce.

"Of course. That's why we're here. To see if we're compatible." He leans back in his chair, utterly at ease in this private corner of a restaurant I couldn't afford to breathe in. "Tell me about yourself, Ivy. Beyond what was in your profile."

"What do you want to know?"

"Everything." The word lands between us like a weight. "But let's start with why you're here. You don't seem like the type to do this casually."

I swallow. The truth feels dangerous, but I've always been terrible at lying.

"I'm getting my master's in computational linguistics. I was supposed to have funding through a research assistantship, but the grant fell through last month. My advisor says I can defer for a year, find another position, try again." I meet his eyes. "I've been working toward this degree for five years. I'm not stopping six months before the finish line."

"Admirable." He says it like he means it. "And your other options?"

"Loans I'll never pay off. Parents who've already mortgaged their house for my undergrad. Or this." I gesture between us. "Companionship. Dinners. Events where you need someone presentable on your arm."

"Just companionship?"

The question hangs in the air. I feel my f...