Driven By Fate(2)

“What does this have to do with my daughter?”

Frankie glanced at the photo on his desk depicting a young girl dangling off a jungle gym. “I want to make the payments to you. The Prestons don’t need to know about it.” She forced herself not to play with the fringe on her jeans. “I’d like it set aside for your daughter to use when she’s my age. Kind of an indirect way of paying back the Prestons by sending someone they care about to school.”

Jonah didn’t speak for a moment. She’d surprised him. Good. “I don’t need your money to send my daughter to school. In fact, that’s a privilege I’d prefer to keep.”

“Understood.” Damn. She should have anticipated that. “Your daughter can donate it to a charity of her choice when she turns eighteen, then. Or send another poor unfortunate to college with the money.” She secured her poker face. “Take the payment from me or I’ll drop out.”

“You’re that serious about it.” It wasn’t a question. Again his gaze flicked toward the pictures on his desk. Over a smiling Caroline Preston who would probably be upset if she returned the grant money. For all their newsworthy shenanigans, the Prestons were good people. They had taken a chance on her, changed her life, really. But she already owed too many people in this world.

Jonah rubbed his knuckles over his jaw. “I’ll put aside these payments for you on one condition.”

Frankie raised an eyebrow, not ready to commit until she heard the terms.

Jonah’s lips twitched. “If you need the money, you come back and get it.” He stood and extended his hand. “And Ms. De Luca? I’ll know if you need it.”

“I appreciate your concern.” She shook his hand, sealing the deal. “But I won’t.”

As soon as he released her hand, she dug in her pocket and took out a white envelope, sliding it across the desk. “Here’s my first payment. It’s not much. The business classes I’m taking make it difficult to drive my cab, but I’ll make sure I match it down to the penny.”

“Something tells me not to doubt you.”

Frankie felt her own smile threaten, but it faded when she remembered her other purpose for the night. Her relief over having Jonah accept her terms allowed for anticipation to trickle through her midsection, blending with fear of the unknown. A significant part of her wanted to take her victory and run, but she’d come there tonight to kill two birds with one stone and that’s what she would do. No backing out now.

When Jonah sat back down at his desk instead of heading right for the second room, Frankie predicted she’d have about two minutes to appease her curiosity just beyond the door of his office, curiosity she’d been harboring for two years. Before attending Columbia had gone from pipe dream to reality, night classes had been all she could afford. One night, after missing a lecture due to an overtime shift at work, she’d stopped by a classmate’s apartment to copy her notes. Instead, Frankie walked in on her having sex with her boyfriend. Not just any sex, though. The woman’s legs and hands had been bound to the bed while the guy gripped her chin, telling her who she belonged to. Pumping in and out of her. Hard. At the time, Frankie had ordered herself to move. Get away before they caught her. Eventually, she’d managed it, but there had been no mistaking one fact. She’d been turned on to an almost embarrassing degree. In fact, she hadn’t stopped being turned on since that day, but there’d been no appeasement. Where did one go for an experience like the one she’d witnessed?

Here. Serve.

Frankie backed out of Jonah’s office, returning his wave as he answered a phone call. Her stomach felt like it had been pumped full of helium as she closed the door behind her, finding herself alone in the darkened hallway. To her right, a sliver of light caught her eye—movement behind a slightly ajar door. She squared her shoulders and eased toward it, hoping for a peek of what lay on the other side. Just a peek.

What she saw through the crack woke up her hormones and twisted them into a pretzel.

A man dressed in all black, right down to his leather gloves, was visible in profile. But it was enough to daze her. Not just darkly, criminally handsome…intriguing, to boot. Every line of his body was tension-filled. His jaw, his shoulders, his thighs. Powerful chest muscles flexed beneath the expensive material of his shirt. He was pulling items out of a leather bag and laying them neatly on an elevated table, every single movement precise. Almost angry. This was a private moment she was seeing, but she couldn’t look away. His energy was hypnotic.

If he was in one of these rooms, did that mean he was here to meet someone? To do those things she’d fantasized about since the day she’d walked in on her friend? Jealousy summersaulted inside her ribcage. Ridiculous. He hadn’t even looked at her. She didn’t even know him. It remained there, anyway, turning faster and faster.

When he spoke in a taut, yet smoky, British accent, the tumbling stilled instantly.

Everything inside her went still.

“If you choose to stand there much longer, you will be punished for your lateness.” Golden eyes locked on her. “Choose wisely.”





Chapter Two


This…girl is not my partner for the night.

Porter Evans paused in the act of removing tools from his leather bag to watch her enter the room. It was impossible not to watch her. Her expression spoke of a readiness to take on the world but her fingers were fiddling with a string hanging from her jeans. For the love of God, the sodding jeans alone were going to be the death of him. Had she purchased them in such a disheveled state or done it herself with a pair of scissors? Either method baffled him, but he couldn’t help noticing the skin each hole in the denim revealed. Soft, olive-colored skin. Italian skin. Marked skin. But not from the kinds of pursuits he engaged in. Her knees appeared to be scratched up from a fall of some kind.