From the very beginning, I swore to myself that I was going to be detached and I wasn't going to get emotionally involved.

And from the very beginning, I failed.

I don't know what it is about her that gets me, but Quinn has a way of pushing my buttons like no other. Truth is, in a similarly sadomasochistic way, I enjoy ruffling her feathers. It's fun watching her getting pissed because unlike most girls who usually either ignore me or pout prettily to deviate me, she actually cares.

How I came about becoming her tutor was purely accidental.

And now I can't even seem to get her out of my life and my own fucking head.

It's been a week since I engaged in my pursuit of finding my brother and since that fateful day Russell Fabray brought me to his home to meet his lovely little temptress of a daughter, I've been so distracted from my original mission that I almost forgot why I went to Lima in the first place. 

 I had to find a way to put some distance between me and her so I could back on the track of things. Hell, I even though I took a weekend off from Ohio to catch up on some missed business deals that were intended to take my mind off her.

Truth was, I missed her more than I could even recall missing anyone else. The entire time during the long meetings, my mind wandered to what she was doing, if she even thought of me to the most trivial like what she fucking ate for breakfast.

I even tried in my own futile attempts to distance myself from her by shoving homework, assignments, or discussing incredibly boring high school subject matters. I did the exact same stupid thing to myself during the weekend by burying myself into work. Usually this plan would work, but then I'd get distracted by some blonde intern or assistant PA whose face I would subconsciously replace with hers before I'm drawn back to the present state.

It was the longest five days of my entire life. But somehow it also was the most entertaining, interesting, fascinating, and sexually frustrating experience I have ever had.

I'm dragged to the present moment having brought Quinn home from night class. How her own parents allow her to do things on her own remains a complete mystery to me. When I was her age, my family threw me straight to boarding school so they never had to deal with my tumultuous teenaged years. I would come home to New York during the summer breaks because there were parties to go to, and then there were 'those' parties you just had to attend because well, everyone who was anyone was there.

My family was pretty lenient with me, because I knew how to handle myself publicly, but I'm pretty sure their faith in me was solely because I was male.

Things might have been different if I wasn't. I remember my cousin Fiona from Greece who was recently cited as one of Forbes richest teenagers, but can barely go out to shop or have an ice cream sundae without an array of bodyguards to watch over her. I had a personal bodyguard, Lenny whom I've considered as family, but since I left for Stanford he was reassigned to Air Force One.

It didn't seem right that Judy and Russell allowed their daughter to go through night school. 

Trust me, if I thought McKinley was dangerous after seeing that Jewish kid with the weird hair get thrown in the dumpster I reassessed my thoughts the minute I was reassigned to night school. What people weren't aware of was that McKinley High at night was not only abandoned save for a few night watchmen, but there were drug deals made by the bleachers. 

 Some of the students at night school "posed" as honest people making a living but were doing the deals undercover by taking recess breaks selling them to a bunch of moronic jocks looking for a cheap high. I had gone there to pick up some information from a bookie on the whereabouts of my brother, which paid of handsomely, because it was indeed confirmed that Neil had just recently enrolled in McKinley High after being transferred from Dalton Academy. Aunt Luna needed someone to take care of her son while she was at work and my brother, despite receiving a full scholarship with a generous allowance from Dalton, wasn't helping things. 

 I had again subbed for a guy named David Martinez, who had taken a few leaves off teaching both English and Spanish classes because he wanted the day job tenure of teaching Spanish to high school kids. Since I did sort of owe the guy a favor for also giving me the chance to roam around McKinley, I took this stint one last time before I had to rush back and help my pretty charge.

You could imagine my shock when I found out that my 'pretty little charge' was also in the same home room.

Running into Quinn was the last thing I was expecting and it took a hell of a lot of will power for me not the drag her sweet little ass off her seat and bring her home safe.

When Quinn mentioned her flea-brained sister was going to pick her up it left me unsettled. In the days that I've been living with the Fabrays, I've known that not only does Fran look like a younger version of Judy, but also they also share the same petulance for being dumped by their good-for-nothing husbands and possess an alcohol addiction that even rivals my own grandmother. 

 At least, I never worried about Constance's blood levels going beyond the intoxicated limit as she doesn't drive. There were times that I was glad we had chauffeurs and vigilant bartenders for those moments.

I noticed most of the time that Judy also spent her time working or attending a Jesus Booze festival, Fran is usually busy making out with some loser guy or the latest hired gardener. Thus, leaving Quinn alone in their house without any supervision. Not unless you count her helping her drunken mother upstairs and tucking her to bed after. The mere mention of a religious figure and alcohol is blasphemous and I'm not even Catholic. I've been told by a famous American author whom I've met at the Met after party last year, that Christians were the most fucked up individuals. Hanging around the Fabrays has had me convinced of that on a daily basis.

Except for Quinn, I digress.

I'm drawn back once again into that moment at the lobby in New York with her looking so lonely and sad.

I'm not really volunteering or anything, but I feel this ridiculous protective urge whenever I'm around her. Like a guy with a fly swatter guarding a piece of delectable pie just waiting for the insects to come by.

Right now, my little pie tart gives me the most scathing look. I wasn't going to admit either that from the past three days that I've been gone, I actually miss her.

In fact I'm fighting the urge not to touch her.....and strangle some sense in her.

It's infuriating, frustrating, and absolutely fucking hilarious and depressing at the same time.

I have never felt this frustrated with anyone except for this girl with the honey blonde hair and sea foam green eyes with a smart mouth I just want to slam against my own.

"You got me home, thanks a lot." Says the angry blonde. Oh yeah, she sure didn't miss me at all. Based from that response, this wasn't "gee Iain, thanks for the ride".

"I'm going to have a talk with Russell. Under no circumstances are you doing night school. Again."

"I'm not doing another round of your assignments." She retorts with those green eyes flared up like angry little Christmas lights. "You're never around anyway, so what's the use of getting a tutor who keeps giving me a bunch of paperwork?"

"And here I thought you wouldn't miss me," I grinned at her and raised an eyebrow. I look at her lower lip and yep, it's quivering again right on schedule.

Uh-oh, I notice she isn't using lip gloss on those babies. Instead it's a tinted lip balm that smells like strawberries mixed with a hint of champagne. I'm beginning to like this more than the Vanilla gloss she regularly uses, but who the hell am I to care what kind of fucking gloss or lip balm she uses.

I frown at her instead.

"I don't. " She's obviously lying because her lip is still quivering and she turns, avoiding my gaze.

This is a relief because making eye contact with her has this double come-hither effect on me. In fact, it's the only thing now that's separating me from not grabbing her and molesting that goddamn mouth of hers. I dig my hands further down my pockets in order to ease my tension and avoid a Mr Happy episode.

"Do you know why I make you do those assignments?" I pay my attention to the semi-average decorations of Chateau de Fabray. It's a typical suburban American home that gives off this noveau riche approach that never ceases to irritate me because it comes off looking cheap and pretentious. I am duly grateful for the distraction.

"Yes, to punish me and make my life miserable."

"Quinn, those paper work assignments are what you call home-school grading papers. I've already sent your work and those alone already cover those days during your first few weeks when you went MIA. Plus, it's also raised your grade point average so you're back again at 4.0 which is a surprise considering the slack you've done in the past few months. Again, with that said, your idea of attending night classes are now pointless."

She looks at me incredulously, daring to believe every word I've said. Her face looks adorably hopeful. I run my hand through my hair and lean back with my hands behind my head as I tilt my head forward and regard her in silence.

"So you weren't doing this to avoid me."

"Avoid you? Why would I do that?"

"I thought you hated me."

"I don't hate you," I answer a bit puzzled as to why she would assume something so absurd.

I wasn't going to admit my own actions to her either. I avoid her is because she distracts me and it makes me nervous since the last thing I want to do is take advantage of a situation that I know is going to come with disastrous consequences.

Besides, she's a wide-eyed kid who has the whole world ahead of her and I'm a disillusioned multi-billionaire in his twenties fast approaching a midlife crisis.

If things were different on that day at New York, I would have left her heartbroken. After seeing a glimpse of her life and given her history, what she's been through, I've come to realize that this girl's way too good for someone as jaded and dysfunctional as me and the least I could do is give her the future that she deserves.

The only nagging feeling that I refuse to ask myself is would I still be involved in her future? Do you really wanna go there now, Hargreave? I don't have to tell her the whole truth, just some partial stuff. I owe her that least much anyway.

"Truth is, Quinn," I add softly knowing that this probably won't come as a surprise for her. "This isn't the job I had in mind the day I walked into your father's office. When Russell saw my credentials, he thought it would be befitting for me to stand in as your tutor. The longer I spent time with you and your family; I've come to realize you probably need more than that."

Her eyes widened in shock. "Wh-what do you mean?" she asked nervously taking a step back from me. I shook my head as she misinterpreted what I meant. She was giving me this look that I was going to grab her and physically assault her.

"You obviously need someone to look out for you," I say softly, gently enunciating each syllable to calm her, for some damn reason, I'm used to scaring the living daylights of grown, established men twice my age and here I am trying to soothe her fears like a patient parent. If only my business rivals could see me now, they would be laughing like loons at my pitiable attempt.

"I've seen how your mom and sister go around leaving you to fend for yourself at home. I know your dad isn't exactly been a running candidate for Father of the year. Also, for the record, I doubt any of your family's praying combined is any consolation to your plight."

She stifled a giggle. It's good to hear her laugh because I doubt Quinn does it very often. I may not get to see what she's like at her school, but I'm pretty sure she keeps a mask on and wears it so well that nobody really sees her own insecurities. I should know, I invented the same impermeable mask. The heartless business tycoon, CEO of Global Merchant Enterprises & Holdings, a multibillion dollar company that just recently hit the roof after the success of the digital banking service called Loan Shark which recently is now available in either iPhone, Blackberry or Android.

"I can take care of myself, but thanks for offering."

"I wasn't offering. Look, I don't want to argue with you. I don't like the idea of seeing you being in a place that isn't safe. This really should be your parents concern –"

"Why do you care so much?"

Crap. I wasn't going answer that now. Instead I tilt my head to look at her and run my hands through my hair and sigh.

"I'm not supposed to," I admit. That sounds safe enough. "But considering the options that I'm probably the only person of legal age who does, I think we should put our differences aside and be........friends. How about that?"