“Not all,” I point out, dropping my phone back onto my desk. “My mom wasn’t.”
Noah rolls his eyes, no doubt sick of hearing my shit, but I don’t care. My parents had the kind of marriage I want. They weren’t just in love. They were best friends. The other half to each other’s souls. And I’m not going to stop looking until I find someone like that. And I’m sure as hell not going to settle for anything less. Noah might be okay being a bachelor for life, but I’m not. I thought I’d be married with kids by now, but at thirty-four, I’m still single and alone.
“She’s out there,” I tell him, walking over to the bay window that showcases the view of the marina and docks below. “And when I find her, I’ll make her mine and never let her go.”
“Mr. Petrosian,” Elouise cuts in. “The mayor will be at the annual Crystal Harbor Dance for a Cause gala on Friday night. Would you like me to purchase tickets for you?”
Just fucking great. I eye Noah, silently asking if he’s going to join me, but he’s already shaking his head. “I’m heading to California tomorrow to meet with a new buyer,” he reminds me. “And then to the East Coast to look at those properties you asked me to check out.”
Shit, he’s right. He scheduled that trip months ago.
“Get me two tickets and call Fairy Tales to arrange a date for me, please,” I say to Elouise.
She nods and then exits.
“Well, damn.” Noah smirks. “Never thought I’d see the day you would be using Fairy Tales.”
“That’s because I prefer to date a woman who isn’t getting paid to be with me.”
He chuckles. “And I prefer to pay a woman so she fucks me how I want it.” He shrugs. “To each their own.” He stands and walks toward the door. “I’ll see you when I get back.”
CHAPTER FOUR
CAMILLA
Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang.
The sudden pounding on my front door jolts me awake, and I grab my phone to see what time it is: eight o’clock. Jesus, I’ve been asleep for less than two hours.
“Camilla! I know you’re in there!” the building manager yells through the door. “Open up! Your rent is late, again!”
As I throw my sheets off me and grab a pair of shorts and a hoodie to cover my body, I groan in annoyance with myself. I knew this was coming. It’s the first of the month, which means rent was due last week… and I haven’t paid yet. Hell, I haven’t paid last month’s either.
I unlock the deadbolt, the knob lock, and push the chain to the side, then open the door slightly, refusing to let the sleazeball in. He’s suggested, on more than one occasion, what I can do in lieu of paying my back rent and that is so not happening.
“Gordan.”
“Camilla.” His beady eyes drag down my body, and even though I’m fully dressed, I still feel exposed in the dirtiest way possible. The guy is beyond gross and should be arrested for harassment. I’m sure I’m not the only woman he propositions when he comes around and makes threats about the back rent. “Do you have any money for me?” His hair is greasy and I can smell the weed permeating his skin. His teeth are a buttery shade of yellow, and I’m forced to hold back my gag.
“Give me a second.” I shut the door in his face and go to my purse, pulling out all the bills I can find. I count it all up, but it’s nowhere near enough to pay one month’s worth of rent, let alone two. Between the electric, water, and my cell phone—that I only keep paid so my dad can get ahold of me—and the money I’ve sent to my dad, I’m broke.
I’m working forty hours a week, but because it took me months to find a job, during which time my measly savings were depleted, I’m behind on everything. I’ve tried to find a second job, but nobody will hire me. I’ve been blacklisted everywhere within a forty-mile radius of that stupid town. I’ve cut back on everything possible, but I just can’t seem to get caught up no matter what I do.
I count the money again, hoping maybe some bills will magically appear, but of course they don’t. I sigh in exhaustion, knowing I can’t continue like this. Something has to change.
Losing his patience, Gordan bangs on my door again. I drop the money back into my purse since it’s pointless to give it to him. I’m going to be kicked out soon anyway, so I might as well keep the money I have to eat with.
“I don’t have it,” I tell him when I swing the door back open.
“You know what this means, right?” he says, stepping into my doorway.