“It’s just that, uh, my rent—”
“When is it due?”
I swallowed hard, feeling every inch the pathetic, broke loser that I truly was deep inside. “Today.”
“What’s the exact amount that you need for your landlord?”
I told him the number, down to the cents, working my teeth over and over my bottom lip as I reminded myself that soon I’d be making six figures and these issues would be a thing of the past.
Except in earning six figures, I’d create another issue: neglecting the whole reason I’d come to New York in the first place.
A different anxiety sprouted this time, a deeper, more wrenching kind. The type of anxiety that came when I turned away from that whisper of intuition inside me, the guiding voice that had urged me to come here in the first place. The voice I’d ignored for my five years at Tommy’s side, withstanding his gaslighting and abuse, telling myself that staying with him, staying in Louisville, was the best thing for everyone.
I was halfway through my fashion certificate course. Ihadto finish. Which just meant I’d do whatever it took to both work this jobandfinish my certification.
Damian cleared his throat. “Send me your landlord’s information when you get a chance.”
“What?”
“His number, or cash app account. Whatever you use.”
“You…you’re going to pay it?” I stammered.
“Sure. Just until you get on your feet.”
Warmth spread through me, and tears pricked my eyes. First a six-figure job, and nowthis. “Damian, you aretookind.”
“It’s nothing. I promise. Consider it a hiring bonus. And speaking of company perks, the fundraiser gala this weekend…”
“Yes?” Excitement prickled to life inside me. I was itching for a chance to see a real-life New York City soiree.
“Do you have anything to wear to a black-tie event?”
At home, I had three finished dresses that would be perfect, and one that I was halfway finished designing. The chance to premieranyof them in an upper-class setting would be a dream come true. If even one well-connected woman asked me where I’d gotten my dress…this was the sort of thing I dreamt about with each stitch.
“Actually, I do! I have a few different dresses I’m thinking about.”
“Well, I’ll give you some money in case you need anything else. Remember, this is a highly formal affair. Don’t be shy about buying what you need.”
I couldn’t think of a single thing I needed as it related to this formal affair. The only thing Ineededhad to do with this man and my naked body. The image of that brunette buried between his legs sizzled through my mind. Truthfully, that image wasbrandedthere. It might never disappear. I neededmeto be the one between his legs. Heat scorched through me again as I felt the blush make its way to my cheeks. Thank God Damian couldn’t see me having naughty thoughts about him.
“I won’t,” I finally said.
“Great.” The line disconnected, and I slowly hung up the phone. This felt like an alternate dimension. I pinched my forearm again.Ouch.Still painful. Still probably not a dream.
Damian’s door opened a moment later, and before I could even suck in a fortifying breath, his sturdy frame was at the side of my desk, sliding a credit card across the surface.
“Here,” he rumbled, his mossy green gaze sliding over my face like a caress. And then hewinked. “No spending limit.”
Damian retreated into his office, leaving me in a pleasant cocoon of his expensive cologne, hints of musk and earth wrapped around me like a blanket. A sigh escaped me and my eyes fluttered shut.
I had Damian’s credit card. He was paying my rent. And he’d fuckingwinkedat me.
According to my vagina, we were in love and close to getting married.
My cell phone buzzed from on top of my desk. An unknown number had sent me a text, but from the way my stomach pitched, I knew it was Tommy. He crept up every so often from a new number, one that I hadn’t blocked, just to remind me that he was still breathing and wishing the worst for me.
“Heard you’re a slut for the Fairchilds now. Doesn’t even surprise me.”