How wrong I was.
After my lunch break, I finally reach the twentieth floor…which is where Elliot spotted me yesterday. My breath quickens. It’s ridiculous, of course. He isn’t going to come out and grab me again. He didn’t have one of those laminate employee tags hanging around his neck yesterday, and from what I can gather, he’s not in finance anyway.
I keep thinking over my situation, Nonny’s circumstances…and Elliot’s proposition. I wish I had a friend I could talk to, but of course all of my old friends have turned their backs on me. They wouldn’t spit on me if I were on fire. And I haven’t made any new ones since I left home. It isn’t easy for me to open up to people now, knowing how easily they can turn, and my focus has been on surviving, not socializing and networking.
Four more days pass, and finally it’s Saturday. I’m exhausted from not sleeping well. It’s impossible when I keep having dreams that leave me wet and frustrated. No wonder people used to believe in magic. It’s like Elliot’s cast a spell on me.
Nonny’s at band practice, and I’m cleaning the apartment since it’s either that or go stir-crazy.
Okay. I have three choices.
One. Ask Mr. Grayson for the money I need for Nonny and become even more beholden to him. He thought nothing of telling me to strip and get Elliot’s attention. So who knows what he’ll demand if he thinks I owe him even more?
Two. Accept Elliot’s offer. But how do I know he’s actually going to keep his end of the bargain after a year? Let’s just say that I have a serious trust issue with people who promise to give me a lot of money “later”. It was a hard and painful lesson, but it taught me a lot.
Third. Just say the hell with both men. Leave L.A. Go someplace far, far away from here that’s cheaper to live in.
The last option is so tempting. Nonny and I will be okay. We don’t need a lot, and I can get work somewhere. It’s not like a cleaning position is my dream job.
When I put it that way, the choice seems so simple. At the same time…
Los Angeles is the third city we’ve moved to in the last two years. Is it good to uproot Nonny and move again?
And there’s the actual logistics of moving. It costs money to move. Even if we toss out everything we can’t fit into my car, there’s still the matter of the current lease and applying for a new apartment in a new city. The only reason I got this place is because Mr. Grayson cosigned for it. Landlords tend to shy away from prospective tenants without sufficient income or pristine credit.
I put away the vacuum and check the time. “Shit!” I run to my room to grab my purse and keys. I was supposed to pick Nonny up from school half an hour ago!
“Stupid, stupid, stupid!” I mutter as I rush down the stairs.
A black Maserati is pulling in just as I reach the driveway. The car belongs in this neighborhood like caviar in a Halloween pumpkin.
The fancy vehicle glides right into the empty parking spot, looking like something that just came out of a wind tunnel. The jet-sounding engine cuts off. The passenger door opens, rising like a batwing.
My jaw drops. “Nonny?”
My sister hops out of the car, a wide grin splitting her face. She waves at me, then reaches into the car for her piccolo case and backpack.
“What are you doing in that car?” I ask, dumbfounded.
“Getting a ride home, obviously!”
Then the driver of the car climbs out.
Elliot looks disgustingly good in a black button-down shirt and slacks. From the way his clothes mold to his body, I know each item costs more than I make in a month. A pair of dark sunglasses sits on his perfect face, and a sexy grin curves his mouth.
All the blood drains from my head, making me faint for a moment. Then a sudden fiery heat suffuses my body until I’m nearly shaking with anger. “What are you doing with my sister?” I demand.
“Like she said. Giving her a ride home…since you weren’t there,” he says mildly. “Surely you didn’t want her standing on the curb, waiting.”
“It’s not a big deal you couldn’t come,” Nonny adds quickly. “I figured you were busy.”
I turn to face her. “You should know better than to get into a car with a stranger! He could’ve been a serial killer!” My hand flings toward him.
“But he isn’t!” Nonny’s smile loses a watt or two. “Come on. He knew things that only someone close to you would know.”
My head swivels toward him. How much has he been digging into my background?
“We should, um, invite him in,” she says.
“No, we shouldn’t. The apartment’s a mess.”