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Break (Billionaire #1) Page 11
Author: Vanessa Waltz

“I don’t know yet,” I said lightly. “I can pay you back now, at least. And I can get my car.” I slid my feet out of the heels and bounced across the room, brimming with happiness.

“I’ve never seen you like this.” Natalie’s voice was flat. “Am I dreaming?”

I shrugged and backed into my room, laughing at her stunned face. “I’m going to bed. ‘Night!”

I set my purse on the bed and set the two thousand dollar check on my nightstand, feeling myself deflate once again. Don’t get attached to him. He could potentially become my boss, but he’d never be my boyfriend.

Still, it was nice to dream.

Chapter 4

The following morning, I headed straight for the bank to deposit my check, and then took a bus to the repair shop where my car was. Looking Randy straight in the eye as he swiped my credit card, I breathed a sigh of relief as the charge went through.

After driving home and paying Natalie the two months’ rent I owed, my bank account contained a paltry $432.50. Luke’s money helped tremendously, but I still needed more—and fast.

Without receiving a single reply to the job applications sent out days ago, I asked for applications at every retail store on the way home. Even McDonalds wasn’t hiring.

My stomach roared with hunger as I stood in the kitchen. Debating whether or not to buy food at the grocery store, I dug through my cupboard and found a battered packet of ramen. Score. I inhaled the tantalizing smell of the dry noodles and the spice packet as I ripped open the plastic, poured the noodles into a water filled bowl, shoved it in the microwave, then blasted it.

I practically grew up on Top Ramen. I remember many school lunches where I would rip open the plastic, dump the spice onto the dry noodles, clench the package in my fist to break them into tiny rings, and then shake it to distribute the seasoning. My fingers coated with MSG dust, I ate the whole bag of uncooked noodles.

At least microwaving was a step above eating it raw.

Carefully maneuvering the piping hot bowl to the kitchen table, I proceeded to gulp down my pitiful supper.

The front door opened. “Hey,” Natalie called out.

Feeling that twist of anxiety that took up residency inside my stomach, l looked up. “Hi. I have a check for you on the table.”

She put her messenger bag down with a weary shrug of her shoulders and hung her coat inside the closet. “What do you mean?”

“I mean the billionaire paid me two grand last night just for showing up. So I can pay you back.” I slid the check closer to her. I need to stop calling him ‘the billionaire.’

A slight frown on her lips, she took the check in her hands and peered at it closely. Her eyes widened in disbelief. “Jess, I still don’t think this is a good idea.”

I knew this was coming the moment she walked inside, and her steely look strongly indicated she meant business. “I don’t even know what he wants from me yet. If he sets up another meeting, I’ll find out.”

“I’m also worried about you getting hurt. Last night, you were talking about him as if he was your date.”

My fork stabbed at the ramen in my bowl. “I know,” I said a little defensively. “He’s just not what I expected at all.”

No, he wasn’t. My cheeks still burned as I thought about his soft kiss goodbye. He could still be an asshole. I didn’t know him at all, but it was hard not to be intrigued by a man planted so firmly in the spotlight.

“Do you know his name?”

Yes, and so do you.

I grinned, bursting to tell her I signed a multi-million dollar NDA. “Can’t tell you, sorry. He made me sign a NDA. And an authorization for a background check.”

Her eyes bugged out. “You’re kidding?”

“Wish I was.”

“Well, that’s thorough. Now I’m really curious. I have a feeling you’re going to have to put out, though.”

My cheeks went a bit pink. If he wanted to have sex with me, would I say no? Of course you would! “If that’s the case, I’ll just end it.”

Natalie knew sex still frightened me. She looked at me unblinkingly. Oh God, she was going to talk about it.

“I just hope that you aren’t pressured into doing something that traumatizes you.”

My mind vividly recalled a hand pressed against my mouth in the darkness. Heavy alcoholic breath poured into my ear. If you make a sound, I’ll kill you.

A violent feeling surged inside me, and I looked around for something to flush it down. A beer. I needed a beer. Maybe an entire case of beer.

“Well, what do you mean?”

She sounded impatient. “Jessica, come on. You know what I’m talking about. You’ve always had issues with men.”

I felt stripped bear, and my face unpleasantly flushed. I always tried so hard to reveal as little about myself as possible, yet Natalie appeared to know all my horrible secrets.

“I’m just worried about you throwing yourself into a situation like this with a man you hardly know. What are you going to do if he forces himself on you? Can you handle that?”

Could I? I hardly knew the man, but really doubted he would do something like that. “Jesus, Nat. I don’t even know what he wants yet. Will you relax?”

Her arms crossed over her chest and she drew a shuddering breath. “Look, I know you don’t like to talk about your foster parents and everything.”

“Here we go,” I said, rolling my eyes. I didn’t care if I was rude.

“You’re going to need to talk about it someday to someone,” Natalie said. “Jess, I’m not saying that it has to be me, but someone. You put your life on hold for way too long.”

“Enough.” The rough edge in my voice made Natalie back away. “It’s not that easy for me. I don’t have health insurance. I don’t have a family I can talk to. I’m dealing with it the best way I know how.” I hated how bitter I sounded.

“You have a family.”

“No, I don’t.”

She looked at me like a wounded animal. The hurt splashed over her face and some of her pain transferred to me.

“You’re getting married and starting a life of your own. You’re not going to always be there for me.” I swallowed hard. “And that’s fine. I want you to have everything you want. But don’t talk to me as if it’s that simple. I’ve been kicked and punched my whole life and you don’t get over that after a few hours in a therapist’s office.”

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Vanessa Waltz's Novels
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