Chloe, whoever she was, probably didn’t hang out with women like me. “I don’t look like somebody who would be her friend, I’m sure.”
“No, you don’t. She’d never see a friend in desperate need and not help her. Chloe is a former Colter.”
I looked at him in surprise. “The Colorado Colter family? Senator Colter’s family?” I wasn’t much into keeping up with current affairs, but there probably wasn’t a single person in Colorado who didn’t know about the wealthy Colter clan. “I definitely wouldn’t be friends with a billionaire,” I muttered quietly. I might live in the same state as the Colter family, but I was an entire world apart from people like them.
“Are you going to take my offer?” Trace’s voice was back to being businesslike.
I paused for a moment. Even though I desperately needed the money, I really should tell him everything, but the thought of that elusive security stopped me. Longing overtook my common sense. What did it matter now? I’d gotten what I’d come for. If the time came when I had to tell him everything, at least I’d done a job that I’d get paid for doing. And I made a silent promise not to let him down. “I’ll do what you want if I have your promise that you’ll send me to a fulltime job afterwards. I might need help with choosing a little better clothing if I’m going to be convincing as your love interest.” I had no idea what rich people were currently wearing.
I desperately wanted to laugh at the thought of meaning anything to this magnetic, impossibly attractive, and incredibly wealthy man.
A mixed race street rat with a history like mine?
Not happening!
“You’re going to need more than just clothes,” he observed critically. “And you’ll take all the money I offered and the job. You’ll need it to get started in a new position.”
His bossy tone sent shivers up my spine. Unfortunately, he was right. I was going to have to find a new place to live and bear the travel costs. “Half up front, and the job.” I’d compromise.
“All of it,” he demanded stubbornly, almost angrily.
Looking at him was dangerous, but I met his commanding glare with equal determination—for all the good it did me. He wasn’t going to bend. The stubborn tick of the muscle of his jaw told me he wasn’t budging.
I didn’t want to argue and risk the chance of losing my opportunity.
I sighed. “Okay.” If I agreed, I could always take what I really needed and return the rest later if the job panned out. “Is this really that important to you?”
He nodded abruptly, sending a stray lock of hair to fall onto his forehead. “Very.”
“Can you at least tell me why?”
“You hungry?” Trace ignored the question.
My stomach rumbled as if on cue. “I’m starving.” I decided that being honest about most things would make the situation smoother with this man. He might be incredibly hot, but he was all business. He also seemed to appreciate honesty.
“I’ll take you to get something to eat. We can talk.” He efficiently shut down his computer and stood.
Air left my lungs in a rush as I surveyed his height, his strength, and the broad, masculine form that filled out his custom suit so very well.
What was I thinking? I could never pull off being a fiancée to a man like him.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” I stood up, but my feet felt rooted to the ground.
“We both need to eat. I want food,” he insisted. “How long has it been since you ate?”
“Four days, five hours and about ten minutes,” I answered automatically because I was currently feeling every moment of the food deprivation.
“Are you serious?” His question came out growly and displeased.
“Completely.”
“Let’s go,” he answered brusquely, walking around the desk to take my upper arm lightly. “Damn, you’re thin, and you look like you’re barely out of high school. How old are you?”
I snorted. “I’m twenty-three, hardly high-school age.”
“You look like jailbait,” Trace answered gruffly.
“I can show you my identification.” I knew I looked young with my hair pulled back and no makeup on my face. Haircuts and makeup were a luxury I couldn’t afford.
“Not necessary. I believe you. But we’re changing your look.” He propelled me gently toward the door.
I shrugged. I didn’t care what I had to do to play the part. I just wanted the promised job. “Fine.”
I let him lead me out the door, noting with relief that Ms. Perfect was gone, probably done for the day.