Page 21 of The Billionaire's Distraction

But what had Tony said?

And then she thought of their mother.

The poor woman constantly drove across town just to sit on a bench, hoping for a glimpse of her sons.Naomi’s chest squeezed.That’s love,she thought wistfully.Love so desperate it endured humiliation and heartbreak just for a stolen moment of nearness.

The apartment buzzer startled her, its harsh buzz cutting through the quiet.Naomi ignored it.Sheneveranswered her door in this neighborhood.The risk wasn’t worth it.She double-checked her tote bag instead, mentally ticking off the lesson plans she’d worked on the previous night, then grabbed her now-toasted waffle.

Three more years, she thought as she smeared peanut butter over the top of her waffle.That was how long she had left of scrimping and saving, funneling every penny into paying off her student loans.Until then, she’d keep living here, in this tiny studio apartment with peeling paint and broken locks.She’d already lost her car to that creep of a mechanic.Now she relied on the bus system to get everywhere.It wasn’t ideal, but it was her current reality.

Still, she reminded herself, this neighborhood had given her something too.She loved tutoring the local kids, helping them decode fractions or stumble through reading comprehension.It wasn’t the classroom she’d once dreamed of, but it scratched the itch.She’d wanted to teach, but a master’s degree meant more debt for barely any increase in pay.Nannying and part time tutoring filled that void in her soul and let her be part of children’s lives in a way that mattered.

She slung her bag over her shoulder and reached for her keys—only to pause.A sharp knock rattled her door.

Naomi froze, her pulse spiking.The buzzer was one thing.But now… knocking?In this neighborhood, knocking rarely meant anything good.She glanced toward the window, considering slipping out the back stairs instead.

Then came a voice.Low, polite.“Ms.Cross, I have a delivery from Mr.Mancini.”

Her breath hitched.“Tony…?”

Before she could think better of it, she opened the door.

A man in a dark jacket stood there, casual but not sloppy.Definitely one of Tony’s men.He held something up.A key.

Her car key.

Naomi’s heart stopped.She recognized the shape instantly, could trace every nick in the metal by memory.The key she thought she’d never see again after that disgusting mechanic had demanded over three thousand dollars.She’d walked away, defeated.There had been no way she could justify paying that kind of ransom for an ancient, broken down car.

“I don’t understand,” she whispered, staring at the key as though it might vanish.

The man shrugged.“Don’t have details, ma’am.I was just told to deliver the car.It’s parked out front.”He hesitated, then added, “Full tank of gas.”

And just like that, he pressed the key into her hand, turned, and walked away.

With a huff of confusion, Naomi pushed the door to her apartment closed, staring down at the key.It was ridiculous—utterly confusing—and before she could make sense of what had just happened, her phone pinged.Her morning alarm: time to leave for the bus stop.

Right.The bus.That was her reality.

Shoving the car key into her pocket, she grabbed her backpack, then stepped back out into the hallway and locked the door with her apartment keys before heading down the hall.She hummed softly under her breath to calm herself, taking the familiar concrete stairs two at a time—because of course the elevator was out.Again.It hadn’t worked the entire time she’d lived here, and even if it had, sharing one elevator with every tenant in the building was worse than hiking down three flights.

She pushed through the glass doors into the morning light, ready to head for the bus stop.And stopped dead.

Parked directly in front of her building was a gleaming, cherry-red Toyota.

Naomi blinked, frowned, and whispered, “No way.”She shook her head, inching forward with wary steps.“Impossible.”

Her little car didn’t look like that.Hers was faded and pockmarked with rust, the kind of car you apologized for when friends saw it.This one shimmered as if it had just rolled off the showroom floor.

Heart pounding, Naomi fumbled for the key and slid it into the lock.She wasn’t even sure it would fit—yet it turned smoothly.Of course it did.Her car was so old it needed a key, not one of those sleek fobs.The original lock fob had died years ago, and she’d never bothered to replace it.

But this… this was her car.She recognized the small imperfections even though most of them were gone now.The ding on the glove compartment, now smoothed as though someone had buffed it out.The tear in the vinyl seat had been repaired neatly, almost invisibly.Her heart hammered against her ribs.

She didn’t get in right away.She just stood there, staring at it.This car was so clean, so new.She didn’t have money for car washes, let alone detailing.Everything she earned went to rent and student loans.Finally, she slid into the driver’s seat, awed by the changes.

Her hand trembled as she slid the key into the ignition.She held her breath, twisting the key.

The engine roared to life immediately, smooth as silk.No rattles, no clicks, no death-rattle wheeze.Itpurred.

Naomi sagged back against the seat, head spinning with disbelief.“How…?”