Chapter 3

The pain in my chest made it hard to breathe.

He reached out and brushed the hair off my forehead. "It's just a job. What do you want, a bag? Jewelry?"

"I'll make it up to you."

My eyes burned. I fought not to cry in front of him, and I took a step back.

"No, thank you."

He didn't realize his offer hurt even more. To him, this had always been a transaction.

I should have seen it coming. I just hadn't wanted to.

My parents divorced when I was little, and neither of them wanted me. They each remarried and started new families. My grandmother raised me, stretching every dollar, and by college I was working several jobs at once.

I met Ethan near the end of my senior year, during my internship, at a business dinner where everyone called him "Mr. Blackwell" like they were afraid to get it wrong.

On my way to the restroom, a man from the dinner stopped me.

"You're one of the interns, right? Want a full-time offer? Spend one night with me."

His hand landed on me. I froze, then shoved him away. "Touch me again and I'll call the police."

A tall figure stepped between us. It was Ethan. He took off his suit jacket and draped it over my shoulders, and the man went white and hurried off.

"Be careful at these events," Ethan said. "Stay with the people you came with."

When I asked how to return his jacket, he told me not to worry about it.

Six months later, I was hired full-time, and I saw him again at the station. He was twenty-six, the Blackwells' only son, the kind of man everyone noticed. Neither of us had forgotten that night.

By then Grandma was sick, and my salary didn't cover her medical bills, so I worked weekend shifts at an upscale restaurant. One night he came in for dinner with friends. When my shift ended, his Bentley was waiting at the curb.

"Ms. Bennett. Can I give you a ride?"

I knew what he was really asking. I got in anyway.

When we pulled up outside my building, he asked, "Do you have a boyfriend?"

I hesitated, then shook my head.

The corner of his mouth lifted. "Want to give us a try?"

My heart pounded. "Yes."

Six months later, I moved into his house. For a while, I was happy, and I thought that was all it took.

When I asked if we could tell people about us, he laid out his reasons calmly.

"You work at the station, and my company helps fund it. If we go public, your bosses and coworkers will start questioning whether you earned your position."

It made sense to me. So I stayed his secret for six years.