Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 86340 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86340 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
She moved, dug in her purse, a cream Hermes that I had in green. A laugh bubbled in my throat when I saw what her hand pulled out.
“You’re going to try and bribe me to stay away from him?” Her hand froze at my laugh, hard eyes swinging to me mid-click of her pen. “We spent one night together. He’s not preparing to propose.”
“It’s better to be safe than sorry,” the woman said stiffly. “Plus, at this point, there are no emotions involved. Walking away should be, in your case, a breeze. You are a smart girl. I’m sure you’ll make an intelligent decision.” She signed her name to a check she had already filled out, ripping it from the deck with the subtlety of a hyena, then thrust it out, as if it might burn her fingers if kept any longer in her touch.
I didn’t look at it; I held my gaze on her face until she looked up in exasperation, our eyes meeting over the granite island. “I appreciate the visit, but I think it’s time for you to leave.”
“It’s for your own good, sweetheart. You don’t want Brant. He’s damaged goods.” The acidic words were said with a dash of affection, the nicety not minimizing the truth in her eyes. She believed it. She set down the check. Pushed it forward with her pen.
“I don’t need your money.”
“A million dollars never hurt anyone, dear.”
I dropped my eyes to the check, surprised to see her name across the top. One million dollars. To me, it meant an extra vacation home. Maybe a condo in Colorado. Nothing that would change my life. But it was still a significant amount of money. Especially to be written off her personal account. “It’s worth a million dollars to you for him to stay single? Or is it me that you have such personal disdain for?”
That flicker of gray again. A tropical storm of emotions in this small woman. “Trust me. I want what’s best for Brant. And, for you.”
I pushed back the check. “No thanks. And it has nothing to do with Brant. I’m not going to be bought off from anything.”
She chuckled, the sound anything but jovial. Instead, it scraped long, dead fingernails down my spine, reducing me, in one squeeze of her vocal chords, to a misbehaving child. “Oh, how easy it is for a child of wealth to take the moral high ground. I imagine, had you had to work a day in your life, that you would react differently. If it were your money that built this house. That purchased your ocean-front view.”
I stared at her, bit back words of retort that didn’t really hold any substance. She was right. Didn’t mean I was going to let her stand here, in my damn house, and make me feel guilty for it. I watched as she ripped the check in half. Let the pieces of it scatter to the counter.
“Fine. You don’t want my money? What about HYA?”
My fingers tightened on the counter, everything changing in the kitchen in that one moment. She wouldn’t. She couldn’t. “What about it?”
“Last year BSX donated…” She moved her gaze around the kitchen, as if there was complex math being done in some corner of her mind.
“Seven and a half million dollars.” I found my voice—it moved out of my throat without invitation. She wouldn’t.
“Seven point six,” she corrected me, her voice hard. “I head our charitable contributions team, along with twelve other departments at BSX. Step away, or I’ll pull this year’s donation.”
My world grew a little smaller. Donations were due next month. We were asking BSX for eight million, which would, in addition to normal expenditures, pay off the existing debt on three new homes we put under construction during the last year. Without that donation, the organization would have to cover both mortgages for a full year. An impossible task. And, honestly, my fundraising skills… I couldn’t make up that deficit. No way. I could barely raise the two million dollars I had pulled in last year. I swallowed. Stared at this evil woman who suddenly held a full house in her deck. A full house of homeless kids.
“Get the fuck out of my house.”
And so my relationship with Jillian began.
Chapter 6
I didn’t react well when being told what to do. I was also selfish. Both of those arrows pointed in the direction of calling Brant. Planting myself front and center in his life in any way I could.
But I couldn’t ignore the kids. The ones I spent Tuesdays and Thursdays with, the one break from my superficial life, the peek I got into a lonely, sad existence that HYA brightened in a few small ways. Important ways. The old woman was right about one thing. There were no emotions attached at this point, no reason why I couldn’t just walk away from the man. Walk away and allow thousands of children to have a little brightness in their lives this year. Would I take that away from them just to spite Jillian Sharp?