Page 5 of Billionaire's Desire
Fields Bakery belonged to my family. My mom used to be the baker while my dad acted as the accountant and the marketing person. The thought of weekends spent sitting in the kitchen watching them work makes the tears trickle faster. Back then, I had my mom, my dad, and my best friend. And now, I am sitting all alone, in my tiny apartment, trying to figure out whether I get to have a roof over my head, or whether I get to eat.
Life can be so cruel sometimes.
Maybe I should get a dog?
Nope, that’s crazy thinking. I would not be able to walk him or take great care of him at all. I would need money, which I so glaringly do not have. Pushing the thoughts aside, I walk back to the kitchen and decide to water the emotional support plants I have lined up on the window sill.
I spend a few minutes watering them, and by the time I get back to the living room, there is a message sitting in my inbox.
I wonder what bill needs to be paid, but when I open this message, it is from the temp agency.
I immediately released the breath that I was holding in.
They have an opening for a waitress job, but to get it, I need to be at their offices before noon. A quick glance at the clock tells me that I have exactly one hour to drive across town. I am still in the long t-shirt I wore to sleep. I don’t even want to imagine the state of my hair. But I have to do this. I have to get this job.
I run back to my bedroom and pick out a dress that does not look too wrinkled. I do not have the few minutes I would need to iron out a better outfit. I jump into the shower and before the water gets warm, I am already out of there. I quickly brush my teeth, get dressed, get my hair and makeup ready, and in less than fifteen minutes, I am picking up my car keys and running out of the door.
My Mini Cooper is parked right outside the building. The tank indicates that I will need to refuel it, but luckily, it has enough gas to get me across town and back.
Within minutes, I am on the highway. I run my mind through interview questions. I have worked with this agency before. Once, I got a job as a temporary bartender for an art gallery opening. I also got a delivery job for a bookstore when they had a signing with the author. They always get me odd jobs, but the jobs end up paying pretty well, and at this exact moment, I could use a lot of cash.
I have some money saved up to reopen my bakery, but that is in a fund that I do not touch. It is still a couple of grand short, but I am happy with how much I have saved up over the years. If I can’t make rent this year, then I will have to take out money from that account, and that would mean keeping the bakery closed a lot longer. I cannot afford to do that. It has been out of business for way too long.
I am about fifteen minutes away from the office building when I stop at the lights. There has been an accident and the route I usually use is blocked. I decide to switch lanes and stop outside one of the complexes as I try to figure out an alternate route. I am distractedly looking at my phone when my car door opens and someone gets in.
My initial reaction is to scream. This cannot be the day I get robbed. I literally have no money on me.
When I turn around to look at my assailant though, my jaw immediately drops.
The man is on the phone and judging by the suit he has on, he doesn’t look like the robbers I see in movies. Who knows? Maybe they evolved? I haven’t had cable in a few months and maybe they have changed their look since then.
The man is handsome. He is dressed in a charcoal gray suit and he is running his fingers through his black hair. A quick scan of his face niggles at me. He looks familiar. Very familiar, but I cannot for the life of me place where I have seen him before. Maybe around town?
This thought quickly jolts me back to the realization that there is a strange man currently sitting in the back seat of my car.
“Get out, get out, get out!” I yell at the top of my lungs.
Despite how handsome he is, this is still a stranger in my car.
He is still staring at me with a confused look on his face so I bang my fists on the steering wheel trying to get my point across.
He clears his throat before he responds.
“No. I am running late.”
Fuck! My interview! I am going to be so late.
“So what? How the hell is that my problem?” I cannot help the exasperation in my voice when I question him. I need him to get out of my car and I need him to do so immediately.
Why the hell did I forget to lock my car doors as soon as I got in?
There is a vehicle behind us now, honking loudly.
At least I have got this one thing going for me. There is no way he could kidnap me now.
Or maybe he still could?
He could command me to drive off.
