Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 79932 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79932 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Her silence after was so loud I could hear it. “What else is going on?”
“Well,” she said, hesitant. “Um…my English Lit class assigned a few new books I have to read over the next month. I checked the library on campus and the local one but…”
My heart sank, but I breathed in deep. “Oh, no worries,” I said. “I bet you can find them online, right? Or that half-price book store you love? I’ll transfer some more money into your account to make sure you have enough.”
“Are you sure?” she asked. “I don’t want to put you out. If you’d support me getting a job then I could—”
“Your job is school,” I cut her off. “That’s hard enough. I’ve got this. You worry about getting those books you need, let me worry about the finances.”
Brecken sighed. “Okay, thanks, Aspen.” Background chatter erupted over her end. “My friends are calling me. You’re the best. Love you.”
“Love you,” I said, barely able to keep the crack from my voice as we hung up.
I swallowed hard, already mentally calculating what I had left in my checking account. Luckily, I had the cash I needed to deposit, and even though I’d already budgeted for most of it, I could make some room to cover the newly required books. But damn, I hated that sinking feeling on my chest over such a small shift in expenses.
I opened my bag, searching for some lip balm, my fingers hitting the contents I’d dumped in there from the small clutch I’d carried last night.
My fingers brushed a small piece of cardstock, and I pulled out the business card Crossland handed me last night. I glanced at my phone, checking the time.
He’d told me to meet him at three.
An hour ago, I’d been certain I would never even consider his offer—thanks to all the true crime documentaries I watched and seriously not wanting to end up being a steak in some rich guy’s skillet—but I didn’t know what else to do. I was sitting here stressing over a few book purchases, let alone tuition and bills.
I checked my face in my phone, making sure I didn’t look like I’d been crying before I forced myself to move. I looked as fresh as I could, despite a little despair in my eyes, and quickly decided it didn’t matter. He’d already made me the offer, so I might as well go see if it still stood.
Twenty minutes later, I walked inside a spacious building where the top ten floors were dedicated to McClaren Inc. I didn’t have a clue what that meant or what the company did, but I was ushered in like they’d been expecting me. Security deposited me in an expansive office with a view of the city skyline that literally took my breath away, saying that Mr. McClaren would be in shortly and that I was to make myself at home.
And really? I could make myself at home in this office. Two of my studio apartments could fit inside the office, which was occupied with rich leather furniture in one corner, bookcases filled with books that itched to be cracked, lush rugs sitting beneath walnut desks and tables, and floor-to-ceiling windows that were tinted just enough to make it comfortable to look at the sparkling city under the mid-day sun.
It was those windows I was drawn to, and I walked across his office, pausing before one to look down at the city below. It seemed never-ending from this height, stretching out with all the possibilities in the world.
But I felt like I was sinking, drowning with how much possibility I couldn’t grasp.
Hello, pity party, let’s just make this a whole damn vibe today.
It smelled like coffee and cinnamon in here, all things comforting and cozy, like it’d be easy to curl up on the oversize couch and take a nap. Something I hadn’t expected for a billionaire’s place of business, but then again, I’d never had any experience with a billionaire before.
I heard the door open and shut behind me, and I slowly turned around. The weight of the entire day, the entire last ten years, hit me all at once. As if everything had been driving me toward this destination, toward this spot, toward the deal I was about to make.
Was I really about to do this?
Was I really about to sell myself, my body—hell maybe even my soul—for a chance to give my sister a normal life?
Yes.
Fucking hell, I would do anything for that girl.
Crossland smiled at me, surprise making those blue eyes sparkle. In this light, he was more breathtaking than the view behind me.
I hadn’t gotten a good look at him last night, not with the muted lights of the club, or the soft the light in the game room. He was tall and broad, with dark hair that was cropped close to his head, a neatly trimmed goatee dusting his strong draw, and light brown skin that was smooth and stretched over muscles that his custom-tailored suit had a hard time hiding. His lips were full and really hard to ignore when he smirked like he was now.