Sold to Him: A Billionaire Bad Boy Romance Page 2

  “These stats sound great. By the way, I didn’t catch your name the first time around. I’m Karen. And you are …?”

  “Trina,” I mumble.

  “Great, Trina. Would it be possible to come in for an interview tomorrow? Would noon work for you?” She asks as if it’s more of a formality than an actual interview.

  “Um, I’m not sure …,” I begin to tell her it’s not a good time for me. I have school, and there’s no way I can get away without Nana knowing. She’s on my teachers’ speed dial and will surely hear about me playing hooky. But Karen’s too fast for me.

  “Perfect. Noon it is then. See you then!” And with that, the woman hangs up before I can tell her that time won’t work for me.

  I sit there, completely stunned. What just happened? Am I really interviewing for a companion position? Staring at the phone, I wonder how I can possibly pull this off. But now that I’ve secured the interview, there’s no way I’m turning back. My job search has lasted weeks, and none have gone so far as even a phone interview, much less an in-person meeting. This is the next step, and hopefully the last one standing between me and gainful employment.

  My phone rings again, startling me from my thoughts. I look down to see a picture of Christina and me posing at a football game. She’s wearing her cheerleading uniform, hugging my hip while we both stick our tongues out. She took the picture, and her arm is slightly visible on the right side of the photo.

  “Hey Chris,” I say.

  “Trina! What’s up?” my best friend chimes into the phone.

  “Nothing much. Finishing up homework,” I say, not wanting to tell her about my new job opportunity just yet.

  “Are you stuck on Mr. Johnson’s assignment?” she asks sympathetically, referring to our chemistry teacher.

  “Oh no, I finished that in class.”

  Christina knows I always complete my chemistry homework first because it’s my favorite. Some things come easy to people, and for me that’s science. Something about the natural world intrigues me, and I can’t quite explain what it is. In fact, I’ve always said that if I did go to college, I’d study botany so I can work with plants.

  And my grandma supports me in my dreams. Nana keeps plants scattered all around her tiny apartment, and I’ve got a name and special routine for each of them, learning how to keep them alive and nurture them through the seasons. Mickey says it’s an old person’s hobby, but I don’t care.

  “Of course you finished our chem worksheet,” Christina giggles. “And I’ll be copying that in homeroom, thanks.”

  I can only laugh because she’s been copying my science homework every day for a while now, and it’s pretty much routine. Christina is a math whiz, but I don’t use her homework. In the long run, I’ll need to know everything on my own, and copying her work will only put me at a disadvantage if I do ever find myself in college, although it’s unlikely.

  “And don’t forget, we need to go to the internship fair this weekend. We can catch the train and make it to the city if we leave as soon as school is out,” Christina says. But I tune her out before she even starts her second sentence.

  “Yes, of course,” I murmur. “Um Chris? I gotta go,” I say in a rushed voice. “See you tomorrow?”

  “But—”

  It’s too late because I’ve already clicked off. The internship fair is really just a pipe dream, anyways. I can’t afford to volunteer or work for free. That’s for kids from rich families, but for me, it’s not even a choice. So taking a deep breath, I walk over to my overpacked closet and survey its contents before picking out the cream silk blouse Nana gave me for my last birthday. She said it was time I become a lady, but I’d held off wearing it because it felt too mature for school.

  But now, it’s perfect. I have an actual interview where it’s important to come off polished and smooth, even if that’s the opposite of how I actually feel. My fingers tremble slightly as I fasten the delicate pearl buttons, mentally rehearsing the next stage of my plot to get this job. I need to convince Nana that I’m missing school because I’m about to apply for upstanding, honest work, and not shady positions I’ve found on the Internet.

  Walking with confidence, I stroll through the narrow hallway of our apartment. Knowing she’ll be watching Wheel of Fortune, I walk past the living room, pretending to need something in the kitchen.

  “Trina! Where are you going?”

  “Nowhere. Just getting ready for the Internship Fair tomorrow,” I announce absentmindedly while taking out a cup from a cabinet.

  “The Internship Fair?” she parrots. “That sounds wonderful, sweetheart.”

  My back is towards Nana, so I can’t see her reaction, but from her tone I’m sure she’s nodding with approval.

  “Yeah, remember I told you about it?” I say innocently, turning to see her sitting on the living room couch, beaming with approval.

  “An internship fair?” she repeats, more to herself than me, as if she’s trying to remember the fictitious story I’ve alluded to.

  “Yes, you signed the permission slip and everything.” I shrug, a pang of guilt bouncing through me as I prey on her vulnerability. Nana has had trouble remembering basic things for a while now, but I’ve never used it to my advantage. Making her doubt herself feels like a betrayal, but all I can think about are the benefits in the end. She’ll thank me when I can help cover our bills.

  “Oh, the permission slip,” she says, nodding, but I know from her tone she doesn’t really remember. How could she because it never happened?

  “Yes, so I’ll be missing school tomorrow, remember? Plus, I think it’ll be a good opportunity to wear the top you got me,” I explain, running my fingers over the front of the blouse, the soft fabric coating my hands like liquid. “Don’t you think it’s perfect for a corporate position?” My voice trembles a little, and I mentally berate myself. This is all for a good cause, the voice in my head whispers. You’re doing this to help your family.

  “Oh that’s right,” says Nana, nodding now. “And yes, that blouse does seem perfect for an interview,” she says with a smile, eyeing her selection with pride.

  She’s right. I’ve loved the shirt since I first tried it on. The ruffles on the front accentuate my boobs, but in a subtle, flattering way. True to her intentions, the shirt makes me feel grown and professional, and nothing like a child attending high school.

  “Well, good luck tomorrow, baby. I’m sure you’ll do a great job.”

  The look of trust in her eyes almost breaks my heart. There has to be a better way to get permission without lying, but I can’t think of what it might be, so here I am.

  “Thanks, Nana.” I force a smile before returning to my room, my fake grin fading the second I’m past her.

  My grandma doesn’t deserve this. Nana has always done everything she can to help me out. All she’s ever asked for is honesty and commitment, and yet, the lies have already begun. Even if it’s to help my family, I still feel guilty and a wave of nausea roils my stomach. I’ve never been good at lying, and now is no exception.

  But then a loud, throaty cough interrupts my thoughts. It’s Mickey! Is my little brother okay? Immediately, all thoughts fly out of my head as I scurry to his bedroom and peek through the crack in his door to see him curled up in bed, his fist to his mouth, while the other holds his stomach. It’s one of those coughs that sounds painful, the awful hack roaring from his throat as his small body convulses rhythmically.

  Seeing my brother like this hardens my resolve. I have to do this. There’s no way I can continue to stand by while my brother suffers. Nana is doing as much as she can, but it’s just not enough. Mickey needs medicine and a specialist, neither of which we can afford on her measly fixed income.

  And in the end, this will all be worth it because this could be the start of something big. After all, I have to help my family and who knows what companionship means? Right now, it doesn’t even matter because I can’t let down my little brother, not when he’s so sick
like this and my parents have deserted us. I’m the only thing standing between him and terrible illness, and swiping a tear from my eye, I shut the door to his room. I have to get this job. I have to. For Mickey.

  Chapter 2

  Trina

  “Here’s an extra twenty dollars, honey. Make sure you get something to eat while you’re in the city. Don’t let them know you need the job because they can smell desperation,” Nana says when I head out the door.

  Her intuition has always led her straight to the truth, and now is no exception. My grandma’s advice is spot-on, and looking down at her wrinkled hands, I clasp the twenty-dollar bill in my fist, needing the extra money to get home without jumping the turnstile as I’d planned.

  “I know you’re doing your best, Trina.” Nana looks into my eyes and I feel as if she’s seeing through me. She knows! She knows that I’m headed off to the city in response to a sketchy ad on the Internet. And even if she doesn’t know, my guilt is close to bubbling over anyways, so I scramble to end the conversation, gripping her shoulders awkwardly before bursting out of the doors and down the dirty elevator.

  The train is crowded with people rushing to work, but luckily, I can take my time. It wouldn’t have made sense for me to go to an internship fair midday, so I’ve left in the morning to look as professional and believable as possible.

  Bouncing between a kid’s stroller and an overweight man in torn jeans, I grit my teeth and glance up at the map again as I silently count the stops until I get off. I am definitely looking forward to a little personal space and a lot of fresh air once this ride is done. And when the doors to the subway car finally open at my destination, I rush out, hurrying up the station stairs to the outside before taking a deep breath.

  It’s a bright and sunny morning in New York City, and everyone is shuffling around me as yellow taxicabs flash by on the streets. Rarely do I get to venture around the city since we live so far up in the Bronx, but I’m excited to pretend to belong in the best city in the world.

  Deep down, I think everyone dreams of living in Manhattan, looking down on the busy streets from a penthouse apartment as the city races beneath you. What could be better, after all? It’s the culmination of my dreams, and somewhere in the depths of my heart, I vow that one day, I’ll be that girl. Of course how I’m going to get there is still up in the air, but I’m determined to make it happen somehow.

  A sign on a narrow side street barely wider than an alley advertises a special for coffee and a donut for two dollars. Knowing I’ll find no better, or cheaper, way to spend my time, I tuck into the small café, glancing around the dimly lit room. There are only four other people in here, but it’s all the small café looks to be able to comfortably manage.

  “Is there any way I can get a blueberry muffin instead of a donut?” I ask the older man behind the cashier. His apron is messy, probably from baking all morning.

  “Usually we won’t allow it but Martin, what do you think?” he calls past me, and I look over my shoulder to see a frail African-American man nodding with an innocent smirk. He is at least seventy years old, but in that moment, he looks to be no more than an adolescent.

  “Martin says yeah.” The cashier shrugs, reaching to retrieve the muffin before picking up a mug.

  “And what about hot chocolate instead of coffee?” I ask, trying my luck once more.

  “That pretty face isn’t going to bankrupt me,” he says with a frown before pouring the steaming coffee into my mug.

  I can’t help but laugh. You’ve gotta love New Yorkers and their fierce attitudes. I smile as I hand him two dollars before heading to the only available seat in the café, cramped against the window, which works perfectly for me. People watching is just what I need to clear my mind.

  A woman walks past as soon as I settle into the seat. She glances around the space, and I watch as her nose turns up almost imperceptibly. I’m sure I’m the only person that noticed it, but she’s definitely turned off by this café. The look in her eyes said this place was beneath her, and looking around, I can see why.

  The floors and glass window are filthy, and I begin to wonder to myself if these types of establishments are all I’ll ever experience in my life. This is my comfort zone—cheap and low rent. But in comparison to the woman, when I saw it, my eyes lit up with eagerness while that gorgeous woman was disgusted.

  But the thing is, I’ve never known better than this. This is just life for me. Maybe when my parents send for me and Mickey in a fancy limo, we’ll finally get a taste of what it is to live the high life.

  I actually laugh aloud at that thought, knowing how ridiculous it is to believe that my parents are so much as thinking of me. Embarrassed by my outburst, I nervously look from one side to the other, but no one seems to notice.

  A couple captures my attention next—both blonde with white smiles that make them fitting for a billboard. They look so happy smiling at each other, and I wonder to myself what they could be saying to each other that could be so hilarious.

  The sparkle in their eyes is evident, and it’s clear that they’re deeply in love. My heart beats painfully for a moment. I want that. The longing I’ve been experiencing isn’t for a man’s touch alone, but rather the adoration and passion behind it as well. I want a guy to look at me the way that man is looking at his partner, with a worshipful, yet also masterful, gaze.

  But I’m no thin blonde, and men don’t look at me with googly eyes. Besides, what I’m about to embark on isn’t about love. They’ll want me to go on dates, entertaining the poor schmucks the best I can. And my dates won’t care about me per se, the companionship service is probably just a way for them to occupy their time with no responsibilities after the date is over.

  One after another, the citizens of the city rush past the window. Some walking, others almost running, all of them moving with purpose as they head in different directions. I find myself so lost in creating stories for their lives that the breakfast rush comes and goes before I note the passing time.

  “Would you like anything else, Miss?” the baker asks, nodding his head. I jolt alive.

  “What time is it?” I turn to him, confused. Surely, I’ve only been sitting here for a few minutes.

  “A quarter till noon.” The man nods up at the clock on the wall with raised eyebrows. “See?”

  Oh no. Without a word, I grab my things and storm out of the door, a bell jingling as I shamelessly run down the street, most likely looking like a madwoman. How did I manage to make myself late after arriving with more than two hours to spare?

  Maybe this is a sign that this is all a bad idea, one that I should abandon. The niggling feeling that I’m in over my head keeps resurfacing, and I fight to push it down once again as I manage to turn the corner through the thick crowd before spotting a shimmering skyscraper towering over its neighboring office buildings.

  “This is it,” I whisper to myself before walking to the revolving glass door, pushing the handle excitedly as tingles race up my spine.

  There are so many elements responsible for my rush of emotions. The possibility of being so close to a paycheck is enough to send me through the roof, and in a devilish way, the secrecy and mystery of everything only adds to the allure.

  “Name and ID, please,” a short security guard asks without looking up. He’s checking boxes on a sheet of paper as I dig out my New York ID.

  “Trina…” I fade away, unsure if I should tell him my last name. I don’t remember telling Karen my last name. The man looks up for the first time as he glances between me and my ID picture twice.

  “Top floor,” the man instructs, handing me back my ID before refocusing on his checklist.

  My thoughts begin to run wild in the elevator as the car ascends with a soft melody playing in the background. Everything seems very expensive and fancy, nicer than any office building I’ve ever been in for sure. The walls of the elevator are made completely of mirrors, and of course I can’t help but check myself out to make sure everyth
ing looks okay. Looking back at me is a clearly nervous but excited girl with bright eyes. I look down at my body and pull down my shirt a little to hide my wide hips, which ends up just showing my ample cleavage even more. It’s a futile tug of war. What if I’m not good enough? This is how they’re going to be judging me, isn’t it? I stare at everything that is wrong with me, feeling a little more anxious by the second.

  “Welcome Trina,” a woman greets me before I realize the elevator doors have opened.

  I whip my head around in surprise, and immediately, I recognize her voice. This is Karen, and she looks as coolly polished and professional as she sounds. Her dress catches my eye first, which is quite shocking considering how gorgeous she is because the black sheath is fabulous. You know how some items are discreet and subtle, yet still retain the sheen of wealth? Her dress screams money, making me feel frumpy and dowdy by comparison.

  But Karen’s nice and smiles again.

  “I’m Karen,” she introduces herself, extending her hand. “We spoke earlier. Welcome. Please follow me.”

  Walking side by side, she leads me to an office. Although my interviewer is subtle, I notice her looking over at my curves as we walk, nodding her head in approval. Once we sit down, she takes out a cell phone.

  “Give me just a sec,” ‘she apologizes, punching away at her phone. “Hello? Oh yes, she’s fine. Thank you.”