Finally, she walked out with only her Coach pocketbook and nothing else. She had less than I did.

  I stepped out of the truck. “I saw what happened. Do you need a ride?”

  She shook her head. “No…” But the rest of her words were drowned out by a clap of thunder. She glanced up at the sky in evident distress, and her shoulders slumped. “Okay.”

  I opened her door. “You didn’t need that lady as your boss.”

  She hopped in and shook her head. “We both took her money.”

  Right, except that wasn’t my life for long. I rounded the truck, sat in the driver’s seat, and started the engine, which made a horrible sound. “She’s someone I did a job for.”

  She chewed on her bottom lip and didn’t say a word as I drove us away from Mrs. Morris’s house. Once we were on the main road, she said, “She paid you, probably more than me.”

  “It’s a means to an end.” I tapped the wheel, and we headed toward the main part of town.

  “To pay your rent.”

  “I have bigger plans than that.”

  “Oh, really?” Her gaze narrowed, and she crossed her arms over her chest, but for the first time, she had a gleam in her eye. “What is your big master plan, then?”

  How much should I tell her? A trillion-dollar inheritance that I wasn’t sure I deserved, she surely would have laughed off as a bad joke. Maybe I cared so much about it because I was adopted. The fact was, that money bought me friends, and the truth didn’t seem the way to win her trust. I tightened my grip on the wheel. “I want to start a bigger business, so I need seed money. To get that, I intend to buy and flip a house.”

  She let out a breath. “You make that sound easy.”

  The town was small, and we passed city hall. Soon, I would be at my new place, and I hadn’t asked where she was heading—maybe I had unconsciously wanted to take her back to my place. I blinked. “This isn’t the hard part. What about you? Where am I dropping you?”

  She didn’t say anything and rubbed the back of her head. “The cheapest hotel in town, I guess. I need to find a new job, fast.”

  The idea of Beauty scraping by made my gut twist. My money could have helped her. “Another maid job?”

  She shrugged. “It’s a living until I get my own master plan together.”

  I wouldn’t let the worst happen to her if I could help. “I don’t have much right now, but if you need a place to crash that’s safe, you can take my bed.”

  “No thanks.” Her face went white. “I’m not that kind of girl.”

  Good. I laughed. “That’s not it. I’ll take the couch. It’s an offer of friendship.”

  She relaxed her shoulders and smiled. “Ulterior motives usually start out with small niceties, and we don’t really know each other.”

  “To be honest, I’ve encountered that as well. We could probably both use an honest friend. Let’s give it a try, and maybe we can help each other.”

  I headed into my apartment complex. Opting for my own space felt important, and at least rent wasn’t big-city prices.

  “I’ll stay at the motel, but I’d like to take you up on the offer of friendship.”

  I checked my phone and realized the closest motel was a mile away. I headed that way then parked in front of the building. “What’s your name? I don’t think it’s Missy.”

  She slipped out of the truck but waited for me, staring at me as if she needed to see inside my soul.

  I stilled.

  “No, it’s absolutely not. I’m Kerry Jackson. And you?”

  I handed her my phone, and she began to type her number into it.

  “Warren No—Tate.”

  I walked her to the front desk, and when she handed my phone back to me, it smelled like her rose perfume. “Warren Tate or NoTate?”

  I wouldn’t tell her that Norouzi was my name, as it alone was unique in the business sector. It was time for me to prove I was as smart and capable as everyone said I was. I waited for her to check in with the cash she’d just earned as I repeated my birth name. “Tate.”

  She smiled at me, and my chest expanded. “Maybe we can get a coffee tomorrow.”

  “I’d like that,” I said quickly before she walked down the hall.

  I waited until she was out of my sight then headed back to my truck.

  It wasn’t how I’d expected the first day to go—it was better. Maybe if I had someone to talk to who didn’t know me as Warren Norouzi, I could figure out my million-dollar idea more quickly.

  2

  Kerry

  My motel bed was small, and pea-yellow bedsheets probably hid an old mattress. However, it was better than the night when I’d walked as far as I could to get away from the highway and into a country I’d never seen.

  Warren Tate reminded me of a nice-guy superhero who’d swooped in to save my life. He even had the ass, not that I ever would have said that out loud. Except I wasn’t some reporter snooping around who needed to be rescued or anything remotely that ambitious.

  I tossed my only pair of shoes, sneakers I’d destroyed when I left my husband, near the bed and stretched in my small room.

  Warren’s truck had been old, so wherever he lived in probably wasn’t much better than a motel, anyway.

  In the shower, I closed my eyes and imagined him. His muscles were defined, and maybe the T-shirt had hidden some flaws, but I imagined washboard abs, chiseled and worked from manual labor. I sighed as I wondered what a man like him would taste like.

  Either way, I was unavailable to men, and I needed to figure out who I was. All my college friends had lives, spoke to each other, and probably all met weekly in the city. And I’d listened to my parents, married a man older than me, and died every second of every day since becoming a trophy wife.

  Maybe housekeeping in a small town wasn’t going to land me a career or the ability to prove my independence. But it was a start. I wasn’t ready to wait out the rest of my life and do nothing.

  It had been the roof over my head that had steered me to the temporary housekeeping position.

  Warren with the sexy smile kept me humming as I showered. The water cascading into the tub drowned out the noise of the couple arguing next door. I dried off with the thin towel that had seen better days and wrang out my one pair of underwear in the shower. They’d be dry by the next day, and I could figure out where to get a job, get myself settled, and buy the things I needed.

  The screaming next door grew louder, and my pulse zipped. I hoped they didn’t get physical.

  My phone rang. For one second, I dreamed of the blue-eyed guy who’d shown up in my life earlier but then shook my head. I answered. “Romeo, don’t call me anymore.”

  “You’re still my wife. It’s my job to take care of you, and you need the meds.”

  Meds were for people who were sick, and that wasn’t me. I took a deep breath. I’d never had mental health issues in college or as a kid. All my problems had started after I’d said “I do.” And no, I hadn’t taken the bag of medicine when I dashed away from him. I bolted with only my pocketbook.

  I stared out at the parking lot, where a group of men standing by their pickup trucks all laughed loudly enough for me to hear them on the second floor. “I don’t need any anxiety pills to keep me drugged enough to be your wife.”

  “Yes, you do. We both know you can’t survive on your own.”

  My hair stood on end. It was time I stopped pretending we had ever been okay. I lifted my chin. “I can.”

  Glass broke in the next room, and the couple yelled.

  Romeo asked, “Is that screaming?”

  The sound didn’t exactly prove I was stable. I cringed. “Not me. It’s someone down the hall.”

  “You’re in danger. I can send someone to get you right now.”

  I sucked in my breath. If his people came to get me, I would end up back where I started and never see Warren again. The second part of the thought was silly, and I shrugged it off. “I’m fine. I’ll file for divorce soon, so you’ll never see me again.”

  “That’s a mistake. I won’t give you a dime, and you’ll be penniless and in need of mental health care.”

  “I was fine before I married you three years ago. I don’t need your kind of help, and I’ll be happy once we never speak again.”

  Someone knocked on my door, and I jumped and hung up on Romeo.

  I cringed as the door shook.

  More screaming came from the hallway. I absolutely would not be involved with whatever was going on down the hall.

  Then someone pushed on my door. I couldn’t stay there. I almost dropped my phone in my rush but dialed the one man who’d been nice to me.

  I’d said no to his original offer because staring at him made my body hum. I could control myself, though. He answered on the second ring as people screamed outside the door again. I whispered, “Warren…”

  “You okay?”

  My door rattled again. The brawl was too much, and I refused to die. My heart pounded. “I can’t sleep. They’ve been screaming for hours, and now they are at my door.”

  “On my way. Want to stay with me?”

  I nodded and said a silent prayer of thanks. He was big and strong, and no one would mess with him. I swallowed. “It’s just temporary until I get my own place and a better job. I’m in room two-seventeen. Please hurry.”

  “I’m not far. Be ready when I get there.”

  Good. Soon, I would be out of there. I rushed to gather my underwear and found a plastic bag to put them in. Then I tugged my pants on and paced.

  A few minutes later, Warren knocked then announced himself, and whoever was in the hall stopped their fighting.

  “Thank you,” I said as I opened the door and followed him into the hallway.

  “Let’s get to the truck.”

  Absolutely. A good night’s sleep without fear would help immensely.

  At the front desk, he got my money back for me with a few short words.

  I stayed near the door, ready to run. As we left, he handed me forty dollars. “You have no idea how you’re saving me,” I whispered.

  He held my door for me then let me slide into his truck. “Let’s get home and in my place. It’s not much, but it’s quiet.”

  “That’s what I need.” I ignored how I tingled in new places because he was close.

  Warren offered a small moment of sanity when I trusted him for temporary respite. I had no idea what my future held, but I hoped that for once, I’d made the right decision.

  A short car ride later, Warren led me to his second-floor apartment. He opened the door to reveal a sparsely furnished living room with an open kitchen. “It’s not much, but I don’t plan to be here long.”

  I was tense and unsure what to do, but as the door clinked closed and he locked it, my veins went cold. I hoped I hadn’t made a mistake, so I stood in front of him and asked, “Why are you helping me?”

  He reached in the first kitchen cabinet to the top shelf then gave me a set of keys. “You were crying. Last time I saw a woman cry was when my grandma died.”

  My eyes widened. A key meant I had the ability to come and go as I pleased. In an apartment that was maybe six hundred square feet, we would have no secrets.

  I relaxed and fought the impulse to reach for his hand. “I’m sorry. That must have been hard.”

  He opened the refrigerator then offered me a beer. I rocked on my feet but nodded.

  “She was nice to me, but Maman was devastated.”

  I narrowed my gaze. Warren made me pause, as I wouldn’t have pegged him for speaking another language in those jeans and work boots. “Maman?”

  “My mom. She adopted me, and she’s all I know when it comes to women and tears.”

  I put my small pocketbook down. “Well, I’ll cook dinner. We’ll sleep better if we’re full.”

  He stood in front of the refrigerator and said, “You don’t have to, and I didn’t have time to go shopping yet. I have to get to another job. Internet password is on the fridge.”

  I walked around him and opened the door. I’d spotted pasta and cheese, which was better than nothing. “It’s enough for tonight. I’ll get us better food tomorrow.”

  “You don’t have to bother.”

  If I was his new roommate, we needed to know each other’s strengths. And the kitchen always made me feel in control of my life. So I took out the cheese and found a pan to add some water and milk to melt it down. “I need to do something nice for you. You’re helping me.”

  “I’ll help.”

  I directed him to fill a big pot with water. He nodded as if it was his first time ever in the kitchen, and maybe it was. Helping out made me feel like I had some control and living there was my choice.

  I hoped Warren would be exactly who he said he was. A friend was all he could ever be to me, but it would be nice to be able to trust him.

  3

  Norouzis and their ilk run the world. Today, it’s been revealed to me that the golden son, Warren—the single, rich, handsome one who also has a reputation for parties and ignoring common decency—has left the compound the trillionaires formed for themselves and their families. Somewhere on our streets, he roams, but don’t worry, dear readers. I’ll find him.

  Gossip and burn the rich.

  Yours truly,

  Regina, your gossip goddess you can’t escape from.

  Warren

  The dawn was pretty in Greenville. I glanced out the window and saw bright pink and red over the green horizon. My mind raced to the beach home I’d spent my summers in since I could remember. As one of twelve boys, I had everything, really, except privacy. Even as an adult, my brothers were my best friends and usually in my life.

  Maman would have loved the colors of the sunrise.

  The bedroom door jiggled, and I turned to see Kerry walk through, wearing the same clothes she’d been in the night before. She’d arrived with no bags. She curled her lips into a smile. “Good morning.”

  My muscles tensed at the sight of her, and I grew hard. I was too used to women throwing themselves at me.

  I grabbed a T-shirt from my backpack and put it on the table for her in case she wanted it.

  She ignored the shirt and opened the refrigerator. “Morning. I’ll make breakfast.”

  There was nothing to make. Shopping was on my list of chores for the day. My cells grew more alert as I walked toward her. “Don’t. I’ll treat at the diner across the street.”

  She patted her belly then massaged her forehead. “Okay. I don’t like to start my day without coffee, so I’ll pick some up from the grocery store along with something for dinner.”

  Coffee wasn’t my usual. Normally, I drank water throughout my day, but with my family or on vacation, I would splurge for Maman’s black tea, which was never brewed from a bag. I blinked and focused on Kerry. I used to do math all the time, so I quickly asked, “How much would that cost?”

  She pointed at the door. “I’ll keep our groceries under twenty. It’s clear that neither of us are in a position of luxury yet.”

  Heat rose inside me , but I followed her out. I wanted to know everything about Kerry. “True.”

  We walked down the stairs without a word, but she walked toward the street and not my car as we stared at the diner. Then she broke the silence. “And I can’t sponge off you for long.”

  I placed my hand on her back in an instinct to protect her as we crossed. “I’m happy you’re here. Don’t feel pressured.”

  We made it to the front door, and I let her open it. As she passed, she let out a breath. “That’s been the problem. I need to hold myself more accountable.”

  I waited till we were pointed to a table. I hadn’t been in a diner in a while, but once we were sitting, I asked her, “Why?”

  She rocked in her seat but then met my gaze. “I’ve been on the bench, waiting for my life to start instead of actively going after anything. My main goal these days is to be entirely self-sufficient.”

  The waitress filled our cups with coffee and took our orders. I ordered egg whites and spinach, and Kerry ordered a fried-egg plate with hash browns. Once we were alone, I clinked my water glass with hers and said, “We’re both seeking change, it seems.”

  She sipped her coffee and for one moment closed her eyes like she was in heaven. Then she asked, “What are you looking to change?”

  I wanted her story more than I wanted to share, but I needed to be honest too. I swallowed. “I was born in this town before I was adopted and never came back. I’m looking both for answers to questions I never asked and to prove that I’m capable of successfully running a business.”

  She reached across the table and took my hand, and sparks rushed through me as she said, “You strike me as driven, as well as nice. I hope you get all the answers you seek.”

  The waitress came back with our breakfasts, and Kerry took her hand back. It felt as though she’d taken away a power source, leaving me empty as she folded her hands on the table. Neither one of us said anything, but my heart beat faster. “You’re drawn to me?”

  She laughed and shrugged. “We’re friends, which is all I can be with anyone right now.”

  I raised my eyebrow. “Yeah?”

  She lifted her chin. “I’m technically married.”

  I paused. In my moral code, married was a no-go. “Technically?”

  “Yeah.” She ate her eggs.

  I did the same, and the silence was palpable. I wanted to know her story. She finished her breakfast then let out a sigh. “I left him, but I need to earn money to afford a lawyer as well as figure out how to live and support myself.”

  I wouldn’t even think about touching her until she was free. I finished my water. “My brother is a lawyer. I can ask him to help you.”