I step into the study room ten minutes late, the door creaking as I pushed it open. She is already there, sitting at the center table with her books spread out like she was prepping for a thesis defense.

“VIP tutoring, huh?” I toss my bag on the chair and flash a smirk. “Didn’t know I rated this kind of service.”

Iris doesn’t even look up. “You’re late.”

“I’m charming. It balances out.”

She glances at me then, her expression dry. “Charm doesn’t decode Caravaggio."

“Shame.” I pull out the chair opposite her and drop into it, kicking my legs up on the table. “So, how does this work? You...