Two
1516 Words
I suck in a breath when Zara runs straight at me, and my first thought is this is a problem.
She wraps her arms around my waist and the hem of my dress rides up under her hands. I grab the fabric and pull it down while her cheek presses against my stomach. Her hair smells like strawberries and shampoo. One of her shoes taps against my ankle.
Her father looks at my face first, then down to where his daughter is gripping me, then back up again. The pause in the middle lasts a second too long.
His watch catches the light when he moves his hand. I recognize the brand immediately. That thing costs more than my rent for a year.
I keep one hand on the hem and shift my weight so the fabric covers more of my thighs. He stands there watching, and I’m already picturing my manager pulling me aside later to fire me.
“She’s my new friend,” Zara says, her voice muffled against me.
I touch her shoulder and try to ease her back. “You should go with your dad, Zara. He’s waiting for you.”
She tightens her hold.
“Please don’t be upset with her, sir,” I say, looking up at him. “She didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I’m not upset,” he says.
He hasn’t raised his voice once, and that somehow makes this worse.
He looks down at his daughter. “Zara, let go.”
She shakes her head. “No.”
Anyone walking past would see a hostess in a short dress with a guest’s child glued to her legs. I can already picture the manager apologizing to the client and blaming me.
“Zara, you should listen to your dad,” I say, prying at her fingers.
Footsteps rush toward us.
“Mr. Montgomery, I am so sorry,” the event manager, Jackson, says when he reaches us. He shoots me a nasty glare. “If there’s been any unprofessional behavior from our staff—”
“Excuse us.”
Jackson stops immediately, nods, and backs away.
Omarion looks back at Zara, then at me again.
“Do you work with children?”
“No. I don’t.”
His eyes stay on me a moment longer than necessary. I tug the hem down again.
Not exactly nanny material.
“She doesn’t warm to people easily,” he says after a moment. “Not recently.”
I nod.
Zara presses closer. “I want her to come with us for Christmas, Papa.”
My brain jumps straight to money before I can stop it. Twelve days with a billionaire could fix things.
One hundred and twenty thousand dollars. The number lives in my head now like a countdown clock.
He looks at my name tag.
“What’s your last name?”
Oh. f**k.
I don’t want him searching me. The lie comes out before I think.
“Chen.”
He repeats it slowly. “Lisa Chen.”
The way he says it sounds like he already knows I’m lying. Zara loosens her grip enough for me to step back.
“Do you need extra work?”
“I… what?”
“Extra work. Temporary.”
My pulse kicks up. “What kind of work?”
“Keeping Zara company. Light assistance around the house. Twelve days.”
Twelve days. My brain starts doing math without permission.
“I already have jobs,” I say. “But it depends on the pay.”
“Name your price.”
Don’t undersell, my brain screams. He’s a billionaire.
“Ten thousand.”
He pulls an envelope from his jacket and presses it into my hand.
“Five thousand advance. The full contract is fifty thousand for twelve days. Half transfers after paperwork. The rest when the period is complete.”
The envelope is thick. Real weight. The paper edge digs into my palm when I grip it too hard.
“My chauffeur will pick you up tomorrow morning,” he continues. “My head of staff handles the paperwork. Pack for twelve days.”
I stare at him.
“I don’t have experience,” I say, because that suddenly feels important.
“You named your price. I accepted.”
His eyes flick down my body again, then back to my face.
“Don’t play games. I’m a busy man.”
I nod before I realize I’m doing it. “I won’t.”
“Good girl.”
I go still. I hate that my body reacts before my brain does.
He glances at his phone, then back at me.
“One more thing. Next time you lie, be convincing.”
“What?”
“You’re Monalisa Bennett, twenty-four years old, living in Brooklyn. You worked at Montgomery Tech.”
Fuck. He has my details.
My stomach knots because this man could ruin me without even trying.
He turns away like he didn’t just rearrange my life.
“Zara, you’ll see your new friend tomorrow. Can we go?”
Zara smiles at me and lets go. “See you tomorrow.”
I nod. My hand is still locked around the envelope.
Then they walk away.
I stand there after they’re gone, still facing the hallway like he might walk back out and take the money back.
This is more than enough to buy time. Maybe enough to push the balance down so the calls stop for a while.
Hope has burned me before. Every time I thought things were improving, something worse followed.
I force myself to move before someone notices I’ve been standing there doing nothing. I grab my heels, slide them back on, and return to the coat check. The straps bite into my skin the second I put weight on them, but I don’t slow down.
I start working again. Taking coats. Tagging numbers. Sliding hangers onto the rack. My hands move faster than before. The metal bar screeches when I shove another coat over.
A man hands me his jacket and lets his fingers linger when I take it. Normally that would irritate me.
Tonight I don’t care.
I catch myself smiling and look down so nobody notices.
My feet still hurt, but it fades into the background.
All thanks to Omarion and Zara Montgomery.
After the next rush of guests clears, I glance around until I spot Maya near the bar, weaving through people with her tray. I slip away from the counter and move toward her.
“Maya,” I whisper when I reach her side.
She turns, already halfway through a polite smile for a guest, then looks back at me.
“Come here,” I say quietly.
She frowns but steps closer, angling her body so we’re partially hidden by a column. I open my hand slightly so she can see inside the envelope.
Her eyes widen. “Lisa, what is that?”
“Money.”
“I can see that. Where did you get it?”
“Omarion Montgomery.”
She blinks. “What?”
“He offered me a job,” I say quietly. “Twelve days. Connecticut. Helping with his daughter. He already paid me five thousand. The full thing is fifty.”
Her mouth drops open. “The billionaire Omarion Montgomery? Are you serious right now?”
“His daughter likes me. She wouldn’t let go.”
Maya glances toward the hallway where they disappeared earlier, then back at me.
“That’s weird,” she says. “Rich people don’t pick strangers at coat check and hand them fifty thousand dollars.”
“I know. But it happened.”
She studies my face. “Do you trust him?”
“No,” I say. “But I need the money. I’m going to Connecticut tomorrow morning. Depending on when his chauffeur comes, we might not see each other until after.”
Her eyebrows shoot up. She looks down at the envelope again, then back at me.
“Girl, you better not be playing with me. If he tries anything shady, you call me. I don’t care if he’s a billionaire. I will hunt his ass down.”
I laugh under my breath.
“Go put that somewhere safe before you drop it,” she says. “I have to get back to work.”
I slide the envelope deeper into my pocket and press my hand over it to make sure it’s still there. I squeeze her hand, then head back toward the coat check.
My brain keeps replaying the conversation with Omarion. The way he watched me. The way he knew I lied.
The way he said good girl.
I’m probably reading too much into it.
I shake my head and focus on where I’m walking.
This is about money and survival. Nothing else.
Fifty thousand. The number flashes in my head again.
I round the corner toward the counter when someone whistles behind me.
I recognize the whistle before I even turn. My shoulders tighten automatically.
“Lisa.”
I stop and turn.
Marcus is standing a few feet away.
- Writer
