Forbidden Keys Under My Skirt - Chapter 2: Chapter 2

My entire body locked up for a heartbeat.
So what he really wanted was my complete obedience?
Wasn't that the bare minimum? Did he need to make it sound like some life-or-death ultimatum?
Without thinking, I gave a quick nod.
That's when I learned his "one simple rule" was anything but simple.
A smug smile played at the corners of Adrian Lowell's lips as he saw me agree.
"Good."
"First, lose the unnecessary fabric."
My jaw nearly hit the floor. Had he actually just said that?
He wanted me to strip?!
It was early fall - I was wearing a simple knee-length dress. There wasn't exactly "extra fabric" to spare.
"You... you can't be serious," I stammered.
Adrian's piercing gaze held mine as his fingers began working the buttons of his dress shirt with practiced ease.
"Need a demonstration?"
Button by button, his shirt fell open, revealing sculpted abs that looked like they belonged on a marble statue.
Then - as casually as someone might check their watch - his hand moved to his belt buckle.
I backpedaled so fast I nearly tripped over my own feet.
"Stop right there!" My voice shook with barely contained panic. "I'm calling the cops! What kind of piano instructor are you? You're disgusting!"
He undid his belt with deliberate, maddening slowness, his voice dripping with amusement.
"Your resistance just proves you've never experienced my teaching style. Do you think students book me months in advance at these rates for nothing?"
"Bull. Shit." I spat the words through clenched teeth as I whirled toward the door.
Adrian's voice froze me mid-step.
"Walk out that door, Chloe."
A beat of silence.
"I'm the only one who can guarantee you pass your Final Assessment."
My feet turned to lead weights.
Since I could remember, I'd been the golden child - the perfect daughter everyone admired.
Straight-A student. Beauty queen. My parents' shining achievement.
Their expectations had always hovered somewhere near the stratosphere.
But ever since I'd chosen music school, I'd been drowning.
No matter how many hours I practiced, raw talent always won out.
My parents refused to see it.
To them, my struggles just meant I wasn't trying hard enough.
The disappointment in their eyes was worse than any failure.
Even when I was running on fumes.
Even when the pressure threatened to crack me in half.
I still couldn't bear to let them down.
My knuckles turned bone-white around my bag strap.
"You can really promise I'll pass?"
Adrian lounged back, the picture of casual confidence.
"Without question."
I turned slowly to face him again.
His expression gave nothing away, but his lingering gaze on my dress spoke volumes.
Taking a shaky breath, my fingers found the zipper.