F Grade For a Bad Boy by itsvlada
F Grade For a Bad Boy
Description
After a scandal destroys her career and her father's death leaves her life in pieces, Skye Fraser has nowhere left to go but the estate of her mother's new husband. The wealthy world she steps into is everything she hates-privilege, secrets, and people who think rules are optional. Especially Kai Becker. Arrogant, reckless, and impossibly charming, the rich heir seems determined to get under her skin from the moment they meet. They clash over everything: class, control, and the simmering attraction neither of them wants to acknowledge. But when Skye is forced to tutor the one student who refuses to be controlled-Kai himself-the line between rivalry and temptation begins to blur. Living under the same roof turns hostility into a dangerous game. Every argument sharpens the tension between them. Every stolen glance lingers too long. Kai is the kind of man who ruins people for sport-a playboy who seduces teachers, bends rules, and treats the world like it belongs to him. Skye is the opposite: disciplined, guarded, and determined not to fall for another charming liar. Yet the more they fight, the more impossible it becomes to ignore the pull between them. And when your worst enemy is also the one person who sees through you completely... the fall is inevitable.
Chapter 1
Mar 12, 2026
Skye's POV
At twenty-two, I had a plan. Married by twenty-eight. California by thirty. A house with a reading nook and a man who understood that some silences are comfortable.
None of it happened.
The estates outside the car window cost more than I will earn in a lifetime. My father is dead. My mother remarried. A scandal shredded my reputation, and an eviction notice finished what was left of my pride.
Now I am being driven to my mother's new husband's estate like luggage someone forgot to tag.
"You're slouching again," Diane says from the driver's seat. Her voice is measured, the way it always is when she's cataloguing my failures. "And that expression on your face, Skye. You look like you're being escorted to your own execution."
"Maybe I am." I straighten my spine because arguing takes more energy than compliance. "Hard to tell the difference these days."
"Your father spoiled you with that dramatic streak of his. It's not an attractive quality in a grown woman."
"Neither is remarrying five months after burying your husband, but here we are."
The silence that follows could cut glass. I watch her jaw tighten in my peripheral vision, the only sign that I've landed a hit.
Diane doesn't flinch. Diane doesn't break. Diane walks into rooms and rearranges the power dynamics with nothing but posture and the particular way she holds her wine glass.
I admire her for it. I resent her for it. The two feelings coexist in the hollow of my chest like uncomfortable roommates who never learned to share space.
"Heinrich is a good man," she says finally, her voice softening into the register she uses when performing sincerity. "He is generous and stable. He calls when he's going to be late for dinner. He remembers important things without being reminded."
"Unlike Dad, you mean."
"I didn't say that."
"You didn't have to." I turn back to the window. "I'm sure he's wonderful, Mother. Just like his twenty-three-year-old son who grew up surrounded by all this excess."
"You're being deliberately unpleasant."
"I've worked around rich kids, remember? Before my career went up in flames." I don't say the name of the school. We both know which failure I'm referencing. "They're entitled and convinced the rules exist for other people."
"That's bitterness talking," Diane says with the dismissiveness she reserves for opinions beneath her consideration. "Not experience."
I don't argue. She's partially right, and that's the worst part. My bitterness and my experience are so tangled now that I can't separate them.
"Why does this introduction matter so much to you?" I ask, because the question has been gnawing at me all morning. "We're adults. Heinrich has his own life. His son certainly has his. They're not going to care about your daughter with her failed career and her failed plans."
"Don't be ridiculous." Diane's hands tighten on the steering wheel. "You're family now. Heinrich wants to meet you. It's the appropriate thing to do."
"Appropriate." I taste the word. "Right."
The car turns through a gate that probably has its own security detail. The driveway stretches ahead, lined with trees that look professionally manicured.
I do not belong here.
I am not sure I belong anywhere anymore.
The house appears around the final curve. Stone and glass and columns and the architectural arrogance that says yes, I have more money than God, and I want everyone to know it.
Heinrich Becker and his son are already waiting at the dinner table when we enter. Heinrich rises to greet us with warmth that catches me off guard.
Silver-haired and broad-shouldered, he looks like someone who would calmly talk down a hostage situation and then offer to pay for everyone's therapy afterward.
"Skye." He takes my hand in both of his. "It's wonderful to finally meet you. Diane speaks about you constantly."
I want to ask what she says. Whether she mentions the scandal or just the general failure. But his kindness seems genuine, and I don't know what to do with kindness I haven't earned.
"Thank you for having me, Mr. Becker," I manage.
"Heinrich, please. We're family now."
Then there is Kai.
I recognize him from Diane's description on the drive over—her version involved words like charming and accomplished and such a presence—but the reality is both more and less than what she prepared me for.
Twenty-three, dark-haired, with a sharp jaw and warm dark eyes that are currently fixed on me with an intensity my mother conveniently failed to mention.
His mouth suggests he knows exactly how attractive he is and expects acknowledgment. He wears his dinner jacket like it was tailored to his body, which it probably was.
"So you're the daughter." He doesn't stand, just leans back in his chair. "Diane's been talking about you for weeks. I was starting to think she'd invented you to make herself seem more maternal."
"Kai," Heinrich says, a warning wrapped in a name.
"What? It's a compliment. Fictional daughters are much easier to brag about than real ones." His eyes flick to me, one corner of his mouth lifting.
But it's his posture that gets under my skin, the ease of it. The way he watches me like he's waiting for me to do something predictable, already bored by the prospect.
I meet his gaze. Hold it longer than necessary. He doesn't look away.
The dinner is polite in the way that first meetings between strangers forced into family always are. Heinrich asks questions with genuine interest, and I find myself answering more honestly than I intended.
"Diane tells me you studied literature at Columbia," he says, passing the wine. "Impressive program. What drew you to teaching rather than academia?"
"I like teenagers more than I like academics." I take a sip of wine. "Teenagers are honest about being insufferable. Academics pretend they're not."
Heinrich laughs, a warm sound that crinkles the corners of his eyes. "Fair assessment. I've sat through enough faculty dinners to confirm it."
"Heinrich donates to the humanities department," Diane adds, touching his arm. "They invite him to everything."
"They invite my checkbook. I just happen to be attached to it."
Kai speaks for the first time since we sat down. "Self-deprecation is a slippery slope, Father. Next you'll be claiming you're not that rich."
"I would never insult your intelligence with such an obvious lie." Heinrich's tone is dry, but there's genuine fondness underneath. He turns back to me. "And your father? I know he passed away recently. I'm sorry for your loss."
The question lands in the soft place beneath my ribs. I set down my fork carefully. "Thank you. He was—"
"Scottish," Diane finishes, as if this explains something. Maybe to her it does.
"Half Scottish," I correct. "Born in Edinburgh, raised in Boston. He used to say he had the stubbornness of both cultures and the weather tolerance of neither."
"A literature man as well?"
"Engineer, actually. But he read more than anyone I've ever met. He's the one who taught me that books are conversations with people you'll never meet, about questions that never get answered."
The table goes quiet for a moment. I've said too much. I can feel Kai watching me with renewed interest.
"That's a beautiful way to put it," Heinrich says softly.
I reach for my wine again and change the subject before I embarrass myself further.
When the meal ends, I push back my chair. "Thank you for dinner. I should probably head back to—"
"Absolutely not." Diane's voice cuts through my retreat. "You're moving in. We've already arranged it."
I stare at her, waiting for the punchline, the clarification, the just kidding, darling, I know you're a grown woman with agency and preferences.
None of it comes. Diane meets my gaze like she has already won the argument.
"We haven't discussed anything," I say, and I hate how my voice comes out defensive.
"The east wing is under renovation," she continues, as if I haven't spoken. "We are reshaping the space. The only available room for the next month or two is the former nursery in the west wing." She pauses. "Adjacent to Kai's bedroom."
"Mother, I can't just—"
Can't what, exactly? The question mocks me from inside my own head. Can't accept free housing when you're three weeks from living in your car?
I hate that I don't have a choice. I hate more that Diane knows it.
"You are not spending another night in that motel. I won't allow it. The matter is closed."
Diane's face is immaculate. She genuinely believes she's rescuing me.
Heinrich, beside her, wears a carefully neutral expression. Like he's seen this particular steamroller flatten people before and knows better than to stand in its path.
Kai's eyes meet mine across the table. For the first time, he smiles—slow, knowing, and nothing like friendly.
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F Grade For a Bad Boy
30 Chapters
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