Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 76810 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76810 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
The more she pulls, the more I’m going to push.
It’s what I do.
I know no other way.
I was twelve when my father shared a piece of advice I’ve carried with me throughout my life: when the day disappoints you, there’s always tomorrow.
Would he have imparted me with that little gem if he’d known he wouldn’t always have tomorrow?
Sliding my phone from my pocket, I fire off a text to Sophie.
ME: Life is really fucking short.
She leaves it on ‘read.’
I head to my bedroom suite and call it a night. My bed has never felt so empty and my mind has never felt so full. I jam a set of Air Pods into my ears and attempt to drown out our final exchange with a podcast on the cerebral merits of pineal-activating meditation. Something bland and unemotional. Rooted in logic.
And I need that: logic.
Because nothing about this makes a damn bit of sense.
Sophie
Present
Life is really fucking short. I read his text again and again, my phone screen glowing so bright in the pitch blackness of my bedroom it stings my eyes. They aren’t the most eloquent of words, but for some reason, they resonate. And it isn’t in what he says but what he implied.
I think of his parents.
While I know loss, Trey knows loss and death.
Maybe there’s more to this arrangement than some business deal. Maybe deep down he wants it? Maybe he’s haunted by his legacy. Who would he leave his trillions to if he had no one? Who would carry on the business he’s worked so hard for? I understand wanting an heir.
But I still don’t understand him wanting me.
I rest my phone face down on my nightstand and roll to the side. Eyes squeezed tight, I try to imagine how the next two years would look should I agree to his ridiculous offer. Surely he wasn’t serious when he offered me a billion dollars. Then again, money like that is pocket change to him. It’s a drop of water in the ocean of his wealth. A small price to pay when he wants something more than anything in the world.
Earlier tonight, he asked me what happiness meant to me.
I couldn’t answer. And not because I cared what he thought or I was worried he’d use it as leverage. I literally couldn’t answer.
Everyone wants to be happy.
Not everyone knows what that looks like.
Financial stability. A career that doesn’t leave you hating your life forty hours a week. Close friends who remember your birthday and keep your secrets. Family close by. Health. A way to give back to those in need without going broke.
I have all of those things already.
Maybe I should’ve asked what happiness means to him? If he fed me something sweet and vulnerable, would I believe it or would it all be a ruse? Then again if he were being honest, I don’t know that his response would change anything.
My answer’s still no.
I kick the covers off as my room grows hot, the air too thick to comfortably breathe.
Dollar signs dance in my head as I mentally calculate all the good I could do with that kind of money. And two years is nothing in the grand scheme of things.
But would he still want me if he knew the truth about my past?
If he knew what I’ve done?
Twenty-Four
Sophie
Past
“What do you like about me?” I slip my arm around Nolan and rest my head on his chest. The air conditioner hums and room service will be here in the next ten minutes.
“What kind of question is that?”
“Just answer it.” Call me insecure, but ever since my mom found out about us, I’ve been paranoid that he’s pulling away.
Sneaking around was fun. What if that was the best part for him?
“Everything, Soph. I like everything about you. There’s nothing I don’t like.”
Unsatisfied with his answer, I sit up, wrapping the sheet around my bare breasts. “What about me though? I know what I get out of this, but what about you? I don’t have anything to give you. I don’t know anything about the world. I’ve never even left the country before. There are a million beautiful women out there—”
“Stop,” he says. “Don’t do that.”
“Don’t do what?”
“Don’t measure yourself against anyone else. You’re not them. They’re not you,” he says. “And never question your worthiness. Just know that if someone’s giving you their time, it’s because you’re worth it—to them.”
I laugh through my nose and roll my eyes. “Why does it feel like you’re giving me relationship advice? All I asked was why you liked me …”
He’s quiet.
Oh, God. Is he giving me relationship advice?
“I don’t know how to describe it,” he says. “But when I look at you … it makes me feel a certain way. You make me excited. You make me feel desired. You make me feel younger. And you have this huge heart. A heart that hasn’t been ruined by the real world yet.”