IN-BETWEEN THE BILLIONAIRES

Lucy's pov 20 years earlier The sun on my skin feels good, and the wind is filled with the scent of new grass. I like the park when it's a day like this. I wiggle my toes in my sandals and gather handfuls of sand, letting it fall out between my fingers. My castle is almost complete—a little lopsided, perhaps, but still a castle. There can be a princess here. Maybe even a king. I'm just getting ready to add another tower when a shadow crosses over me. "What are you doing alone?" a boy asks. I glance up at him squinting. He is **about my brother's age—nine—**with messy black hair and large blue eyes. His front tooth is cute, but the bottom ones? Three of them are missing. I blink. He grins like he caught me red-handed. "Building a castle," I grumble, going back to work. "Alone?" He frames that like it's something dreadful. "Yes." "Why?" "Because I want to." He sits beside me. "That's odd." I frown. "You're odd." "No, you are," he says, sticking his finger in my mouth. "You've got a window in your teeth." I inhale sharply and cover my mouth with both hands. How could he do that! "Well—at least I can still bite into corn!" I spit out, fuming. He chuckles. "No, you can't." "Yes, I can!" "You cannot!" I puff out my cheeks. "I can! I just have to—uh—bite from the side!" He guffaws. "That's cheating!" I cross my arms, scowling. "You shouldn't be talking. You don't even have any bottom teeth!" He strokes his mouth, then gasps. "Oh no! Where did they go?!" I chuckle. "I dunno. Maybe the Tooth Fairy stole them!" He pretends to scream in horror, falling out on the sand. "A thief! The Tooth Fairy is a thief!" I laugh even more, still holding my hand over my mouth. I wasn't looking forward to befriending someone today, but maybe this kid isn't so bad. When he stands up, he holds out his hand to me. "I'm Marcus." I regard it for a second before shaking it. His hand is warm. "I'm Lucy. Lucy Cheng." "Cheng?" His eyes widen. "I saw a movie once with a guy named Cheng!" I roll my eyes. "I'm half-Chinese. Leave me alone." He grins. "I'll never leave you alone, Lucy. You just made yourself an inescapable friend." I don't know what inescapable is, but I don't think it's anything bad. "Come on, let's build a castle together," he says. I hesitate. "You don't have to." "But I want to." He picks up a bunch of sand. "Besides, your castle is ugly." "Excuse me!!" He shrugs. "It's lopsided." I gasp. "It's not!" He smirks. "It totally is." I begin to open my mouth to protest, but then I look at my castle. Okay, so it is kind of leaning. ".Fine." I sigh. "We can fix it together." He grins. "Deal!" We fix my castle for the next few minutes. Marcus is quite good at it. He knows how to fill in the sand just right so it doesn't fall apart, and he shows me how to make small windows with a stick. "Do you visit here often?" he asks, smoothing out a wall. I nod. "Mama says I have to get fresh air." "Same," he replies. "I get bored at home." "Do you have any brothers or sisters?" He shakes his head. "Just me and my mom." "I have a big brother," I say to him. "He's completely annoying." "Brothers are designed to be annoying," says Marcus, grinning. "Then I don't want one," I say gruffly. "Too late," he teases. "You're stuck with him." I roll my eyes but smile. Later, he pulls something from his pocket—a blue cap. "Here." He holds it out to me. I blink. "What's that for?" "You should put it on," he says. "It's hot." I take it slow, running my fingers over the fabric. It's soft and a little too large, but when I'm wearing it, it keeps my face out of the sun. "Better?" he asks. I nod, pushing it in. "Yeah." He smiles. "Now you look cool." I grin. "You think so?" "Definitely." We sit in the sand for a minute, admiring our castle. It's still a little skewed, but it's ours. Then, out of the blue— "Marcus!" We both freeze. A tall woman in a fancy dress is approaching us. Her black stilettos sink into the sand, but she doesn't care. I glance at Marcus. His grin disappears. "Uh-oh," he grumbles. "Marcus, how many times have I told you not to wander off?" the woman breathes, holding his arm. She barely looks at me. "I was just being friendly, Mom," he says, waving a hand in my direction. "This is Lucy." She looks at me properly this time, her gaze settling on my simple yellow sundress. "Lucy Cheng," I whisper. She doesn't respond. "Let's go, Marcus, we have to leave," she says, tugging on his hand. "But we can't finish our castle!" "You can do it another time," she says firmly. Marcus lets out a breath, glancing at me. "Guess I have to go." I nod. "Okay." He stops, and removes the cap and places it on my head again. "Keep it," he says to me. "So you won't forget about me." I blink. "You think I'll forget about you?" He grins. "Nah. But anyway." His mom pulls him off, and he's gone—just like that. I'm sitting in the sand, rubbing the cap. I don't know why, but I think this isn't the last time I'll see Marcus. I open my eyes. Another nightmare. s**t. This one was strange, too. Something about typewriters trying to eat me—keys clacking like teeth, ribbons wrapping around my arms like snakes. What the hell? I glance up at the ceiling, my mind still foggy. The sun slants between the blinds, making pale stripes across the room. How late is it? I glance at my phone. 5:45 AM. I roll over and moan. Time to start another day. I drag myself through my usual routine—brush my teeth, brush my hair, shower, and throw on my black-and-white uniform for work. A few minutes later, I’m out the door, locking it behind me. The streets are still quiet, the morning air fresh. I’m a little earlier than usual, but that’s fine. Gives me time to settle in before the rush starts. Then, out of nowhere, a black Mercedes slowly pulls up alongside me. Oh no. "Hello, the most beautiful woman on earth." I roll my eyes and keep walking. The car keeps tailing me. "Lucy, my dear, if you could just take a minute out of your valuable time, I know you're over 30 minutes early." I glance at him and keep walking. A theatrical sigh. "Lucy Cheng, jump in the car right away and let the man of your dreams drive you home." I burst out laughing, shaking my head. I swing open the door and get in, where I find Marcus, grinning like a fool. Marcus has changed over the years—dramatically. His once unruly hair is now perfectly styled, a little longer, falling over his shoulders. His chiseled jawline and stupidly blue eyes render it generously hard to look at him for longer than a second. And that suit? Bespoke perfection, clinging to his form in ways that surely have to be illegal. "Stop staring, Luce," Marcus teases, snapping his fingers in my face. I raise an eyebrow, crossing my arms. "I wasn't staring." "You were staring.". "I was checking out." "You were salivating." I slap his arm. "Shut up." He laughs, the same reckless, heart-stopping laugh he's always had. "How is my favorite person doing today on this beautiful morning?" he asks, resting his arm across the steering wheel as if he has all day. I roll my eyes but smile. "Trying to make it through another day at work. You?" Marcus smiles. "Spending my morning harassing my favorite person." I shake my head, suppressing a smile. Some things never change. Marcus pulls up in front of sevenCafé, the city's go-to breakfast joint, and I grab my bag. "Bye, i***t," I say, pushing the door open. Marcus bends over his chest like I've just wounded him. "What an unwarranted way to speak of your own personal Uber driver." I eye-roll. "I didn't ask you for a ride. It's literally down the block. Get to work, Marcus." "Sure, sure, sure," he promises me, but I can hear the smile of teasing in his voice. I leave, slamming the door behind me before I can let myself stare at him some more. But my heart is already behaving like an i***t in my chest. He was that good today. The kind of good that made my heart explode with feelings I had no idea how to process. Marcus wasn't that messy-haired boy I grew up with any longer. He was a man—tall, broad-shouldered, stupidly handsome, and completely unaware that I'd helplessly loved him for years. The worst part? Not being able to tell him. Keeping it bottled up was starting to hurt. I gnaw on my nails, a habit of nervous ritual I just cannot break. Suppose I reveal to him and ruin everything. Suppose he feels otherwise?