Trillion(35)

But I still don’t understand him wanting me.

I rest my phone face down on my nightstand and roll to the side. Eyes squeezed tight, I try to imagine how the next two years would look should I agree to his ridiculous offer. Surely he wasn’t serious when he offered me a billion dollars. Then again, money like that is pocket change to him. It’s a drop of water in the ocean of his wealth. A small price to pay when he wants something more than anything in the world.

Earlier tonight, he asked me what happiness meant to me.

I couldn’t answer. And not because I cared what he thought or I was worried he’d use it as leverage. I literally couldn’t answer.

Everyone wants to be happy.

Not everyone knows what that looks like.

Financial stability. A career that doesn’t leave you hating your life forty hours a week. Close friends who remember your birthday and keep your secrets. Family close by. Health. A way to give back to those in need without going broke.

I have all of those things already.

Maybe I should’ve asked what happiness means to him? If he fed me something sweet and vulnerable, would I believe it or would it all be a ruse? Then again if he were being honest, I don’t know that his response would change anything.

My answer’s still no.

I kick the covers off as my room grows hot, the air too thick to comfortably breathe.

Dollar signs dance in my head as I mentally calculate all the good I could do with that kind of money. And two years is nothing in the grand scheme of things.

But would he still want me if he knew the truth about my past?

If he knew what I’ve done?





Twenty-Four





Sophie

Past



“What do you like about me?” I slip my arm around Nolan and rest my head on his chest. The air conditioner hums and room service will be here in the next ten minutes.

“What kind of question is that?”

“Just answer it.” Call me insecure, but ever since my mom found out about us, I’ve been paranoid that he’s pulling away.

Sneaking around was fun. What if that was the best part for him?

“Everything, Soph. I like everything about you. There’s nothing I don’t like.”

Unsatisfied with his answer, I sit up, wrapping the sheet around my bare breasts. “What about me though? I know what I get out of this, but what about you? I don’t have anything to give you. I don’t know anything about the world. I’ve never even left the country before. There are a million beautiful women out there—”

“Stop,” he says. “Don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what?”

“Don’t measure yourself against anyone else. You’re not them. They’re not you,” he says. “And never question your worthiness. Just know that if someone’s giving you their time, it’s because you’re worth it—to them.”

I laugh through my nose and roll my eyes. “Why does it feel like you’re giving me relationship advice? All I asked was why you liked me …”

He’s quiet.

Oh, God. Is he giving me relationship advice?

“I don’t know how to describe it,” he says. “But when I look at you … it makes me feel a certain way. You make me excited. You make me feel desired. You make me feel younger. And you have this huge heart. A heart that hasn’t been ruined by the real world yet.”

“And what happens when I’m older? When I’ve got more real-world experience and the excitement has worn off?”

Nolan gathers my hands in his, kissing the insides of my palms. “One day at a time.”

I don’t like his answer. There’s no comfort or assurance in it. It’s not like I’m expecting an engagement ring, but a little word of encouragement would be nice. Something that tells me he’s in this for the long haul.

Lord knows I am.

A quick knock at the door, followed by a man announcing himself as “room service,” sends me scurrying, naked, to the bathroom. A minute later, Nolan retrieves me. He’s slipped into his black slacks, the belt undone and his smooth chest exposed.

“Dinner’s here.” He looks me up and down, only now I’m wrapped in a fluffy robe with the hotel monogram on the lapels. “Come eat.”

We dine in silence.

My chicken is dry and the vegetables are bland. I shove the food around on my plate so it looks like I’m eating more than I am. I don’t touch the wine he’s poured. Lately I’ve been nauseous, and it only intensifies when I’m having an off day.

Nerves, mostly likely.

“You want to rent a movie?” He points to the giant flat-screen TV across the room.

“Sure.” I force a smile. I just want things to be normal again.

But I can’t ignore the nagging pull in the deepest part of my chest telling me something’s not right.

Maybe I’m reading too much into it, but it’s like we’ve been knocked out of our perfect little orbit.

We finish our meal and burrow beneath the covers. I tell him to pick the movie. I’m probably going to pass out soon anyway—lately I can hardly stay up past nine.

The credits roll and Nolan pulls me into his arms. “I love you, Soph.”