The Roommate Arrangement Read online

  The fire receded from her eyes as she nodded.

  “I get it. I just think it’s a mistake.”

  “It was a Cinderella arrangement, not a mistake. It would've ended at some point.”

  I spent the next day in a jet-lagged stupor. I felt like shit. The best thing I had in my life was gone, and the money in my bank was dwindling. I sat in my computer chair, staring at the four-digit number in my bank account.

  I would give it all just to have him. More than anything, I wanted to fall into his arms. I opened my phone, hoping to see a text, but there was nothing from him.

  What do you expect? You ripped his heart out.

  I promised Natalie I wouldn’t Google him, but it was too easy for me to type his name into that white bar and hit ‘enter.’

  Luke Pardini takes red-eye to Chicago without blonde escort

  I balked at “blonde escort,” but at least they weren’t mentioning me by name. I clicked on the link as my stomach fell through.

  Did he leave already?

  There was a picture of him dressed in the same clothes I’d seen him in yesterday. His suitcase was in his hand as he dashed across SFO. Another picture showed him arriving in Chicago. Had his father taken a turn for the worse? Is that why he left so abruptly?

  “Stop reading into it. He’s done with you. Get over it,” I said to the empty room.

  My email blinked, and I realized I had several unread emails. Recognizing neither, I clicked on the first.

  Holy shit!

  I scanned one. They were offering me an interview at a place I had applied to before I left to London. It was in a few days. I shot them an email, agreeing to the time.

  Finally!

  I tried not to get my hopes up, but I couldn't help but grin as I reread the email. A horrifying thought popped into my head: What if they Google my name and find all these escort articles?

  I headed to the bookmarked sugar baby website and typed in my username and password. I was determined to delete everything, but something happened.

  Error: that username does not exist

  I tried it again. Nothing. Then I logged into the email I created for the account, but that vanished too. Finally, I searched for myself on the sugar baby website. Then I looked for Luke's. Nothing. It was as if everything disappeared.

  Luke must have paid someone to do this. To hide the evidence.

  The euphoria at getting a job interview evaporated. I needed to get out of the stifling apartment. Natalie was at work, and I hated the silence that permeated the walls. I grabbed my purse and flung open the door as a crowd of people surrounded me, screaming.

  What the fuck?

  I blinked in the bright, winter sunlight.

  “Miss Knight!”

  They elbowed each other in their attempts to shove huge black cameras in my face. Flash. Click.

  “Miss Knight, what did you and Luke do together? Would you like to sell a story to Huffington Post?”

  The woman shoved a microphone under my nose. I stared at in shock for a second, refusing to look at the video camera aimed at me, and smacked it away. Didn’t they understand that I didn’t want to be harassed?

  “No. Get off of my lawn.”

  None of them budged. When I was with Luke, he always shoved through the paparazzi like moving through a packed concert. I edged through them to get to my crappy car parked on the street. They followed me like a strange, nonthreatening mob and encircled my car. All their requests were drowned by the car's engine, and they moved out of the way when it lurched forward.

  They took pictures through the windshield; some of them still screaming requests. Jesus. How long is this going to last? Surely, people would tire of reading about the blonde hooker—escort—or whatever it was they were calling me.

  I didn't feel like going to the store because I knew I would have to drive back home with the groceries where they were camped out. So I veered my car into the highway and headed instead toward the soup kitchen.

  I wasn’t scheduled to come in, but I couldn’t handle sitting in my apartment alone all day. As I walked across the parking lot, I saw that half the soup kitchen's windows were smashed.

  “What happened?” I asked the men sweeping up the broken glass.

  They shrugged. “I don’t think you’re supposed to go in there.”

  Ignoring him, I pushed through the door, and my shoes crunched over shards. Inside was a scene of devastation. Black graffiti covered the yellow walls in high arches. I bent over and righted a chair. As I walked through to the kitchen, a sick feeling descended over me.

  Shelly was there with a clipboard in her hands, shaking her head. “Our inventory suffered a huge loss. They took our best pots and made a mess out of the pantry.”

  “Who did this?”

  “You haven’t even seen the worst of it.”

  She beckoned me to the back that led to the small garden I helped build. I stared in dismay at the lumps of brown earth everywhere and pushed the door open in a rage. There was nothing left but tatters of green. All of our herbs—gone. The bok choy and the cabbage lay on the ground like headless corpses.

  “It doesn’t matter,” I croaked. “We’ll just have to do it again. Re-plant everything.”

  “I’m not sure Carol will want to. It’ll be hard enough replacing all the supplies we lost. There’s no money in the budget for the garden.”

  I felt the familiar sting of frustration at Carol’s rigid policies until I remembered: I have money. I could pour thousands into this place.

  Ok, it wasn’t like I had thousands upon thousands, but the money Luke gave me would help repair most of the damage.

  Giving your money away is such a stupid idea.

  But the money was making me sick. I didn’t want it anymore. The articles written about me made me feel ashamed, even though I had done nothing wrong. It reminded me that at its core, our relationship was represented by dollar signs. I knew that it meant much more than that, but I had to get rid of it. All of it.

  I cried when I got home and wrote the check, clutching an eight thousand, five hundred and sixty-two dollar check. I couldn't empty my entire bank account—I still needed to eat and pay my bills—but at least most of it was gone.

  You are so fucking stupid. Just shoot yourself now.

  It would be the most generous, dumb thing I ever did.

  Natalie will freak.

  “Are you sure you want to do this?”

  Carol looked at me as if I was on the edge of sanity, which I probably was.

  Just take it before I change my mind. “Yes, on one condition, though.”

  She folded her arms. “What?”

  "I want more authority in the kitchen. There's also got to be a security system so that this never happens again. We need cameras and padlocked gates enclosing the backyard."

  “Fine.”

  Carol stuck out her hand, and I grabbed it.

  Fine?

  I was expecting a fight, but I guess once I waved money in front of her face—nothing else mattered. I turned around and tried to ignore the screaming voice in my head, calling me an idiot for spending the majority of my nest egg. What would happen when another disaster hit and the soup kitchen ran out of funds?

  As I got in my car, I turned the volume way up in the hopes it would drown out the voice in my head.

  At the end of another workday, the BART ground to a halt at my stop, and I stood, following the rush of passengers into the frigid air. I walked down the steps and thought back to the time when I hurried up these steps in a borrowed dress to meet Luke in the city.

  I had a job. Health insurance. All was well, except that I still pined for Luke.

  “There are plenty of other guys out there,” Natalie repeated over and over. “Tons.”

  Except there was only one man, I was interested in. He saved me—he changed my life. I was almost sorry to see the paparazzi dwindle from my lawn. It was a testament to time. The scandal of our brief relationship was ebbing aw
ay. No one cared anymore. I wondered if Luke thought of me as often as I thought of him. Was his father still alive? Was he catering to his every demand?

  Once or twice, I wanted to call him, but I didn’t want to be that girl. I would not be pathetic—I would not chase after a man. I made a choice, and I needed to stick to it.

  Wherever he is, I hope he's happy.

  My gloominess hung around me like a cloud as I shoved through the front door. Easter was next week, and Natalie was going home to her parents. She and Ben were taking a break.

  "Natalie," I called out as I opened my apartment door and shut it behind me. "I hope to God we have booze because I'm feeling the need to do some drinking."

  “In here.”

  Her voice sounded strange. Did Ben call? I hung up my scarf and coat rather quickly. I walked into the kitchen and halted.

  He was there, sitting around our crappy kitchen table. His back faced me, but I recognized his dark brown head. He wore a black cashmere sweater and ironed dark jeans. His head turned and those lips I had fantasized about every day, spoke.

  “Jessica.”

  Behind him, Natalie stood and retreated to her bedroom. I was still too stunned to register he was here, in my apartment.

  “What are you doing here?”

  I thought of running into his arms while sobbing, but that wasn’t my instinct. I was numb.

  He rose from the chair but didn’t come any closer.

  “These past few months have been the worst in my life. I couldn’t stop thinking about what you said—”

  “I’m—I’m so sorry.”

  He pushed himself off the table and walked to me, and my heart sped as he came closer.

  “I heard what you did with my money."

  "How?"

  "I was thinking about you one night, and I looked up your kitchen's website. Then I saw your name on the front page, and I knew what you had done."

  He touched my face and a torrent of emotion boiled up, like the burst of liquid from a shaken soda can.

  “Then I got a call from Natalie.”

  “Y—you did?”

  “She told me everything.”

  Tears slid down my face. “Damn her.”

  I love you, Natalie.

  “Don’t be angry with her.”

  “I wanted you to be free.”

  He grasped my hand and squeezed it, willing me to be silent. “These past few months have been so goddamn miserable. You didn’t set me free.”

  “I was trying to do the right thing!”

  “I miss you. I want you and I will not let anyone else get in my way.”

  “Luke, it’s too m—much. I can’t ask you to give everything away.”

  “It’s my decision,” he said in a hard voice. “I don’t need the fucking money, but I’ll die if I don’t have you.”

  I choked into the hands that cradled my face. I don't know which of us started forward, but we both launched ourselves, and our faces joined, the salty tears dripping into my mouth as he held me so tightly against his chest I couldn't breathe. Then I felt like I was in one of those romantic comedies, those silly movies where the man picks up the girl in his arms and kisses her like it's the last one he'll ever have.

  He came back for me.

  I broke off the kiss and laughed in utter joy as Luke’s smile spread across his face.

  11

  I stretched out on the beach towel, closing my eyes as the sun stroked my body with its warm gaze. The roll of the ocean soothed my ears with its gentle lullaby. Eyes closed, I groped with my hand and found the tropical drink perched on a mound of hot sand.

  I could get used to this.

  There were perks to having a rich boyfriend, like the access to one of the most exclusive, private beaches in Bora Bora: unlimited drinks, beachside service, and the gentle sound of the waves. I opened my eyes, and a bright sky burned my eyeballs. I sat up and watched Luke swimming through the ocean waves, his arms rising and water droplets glittering from them like diamonds.

  A smile crept over my face as I watched his arms crash through the waves. He deserved to have a moment of levity after everything that happened.

  He needed to get away from it all.

  Luke reconciled with his father. He told me he went to the hospice after we broke up and they had a heart to heart. After his father died, Luke only received a meager five hundred thousand with a note:

  After all these years, I realized I loved the money more than my family. It’s too much for one person. I do not want to change the man you’ve become. I love you, Luke. -Dad

  Luke’s father had given a similar portion to his uncle, who did not waste time in uttering how disappointed he was. The rest of his fortune was given to charities and other businesses. Luke had already raged and grieved over the money.

  He may not have believed in the message his father wrote, but I did. My eyes teared up under the blazing sun as I recalled the words of his father's last farewell.

  I hastily wiped the wetness from my eyes as Luke emerged from the water, his board trailing behind him.

  Damn.

  There was nothing like watching the beads of water roll down his broad chest, which sparkled in the sunlight. Every time I looked at him, there was still that swooping sensation of joy and disbelief.

  Dripping, he sat down next to me and leaned over. Water from his hair pelted my face, but I didn’t mind because the heat baked my skin. He blocked out the sun and smiled as his soaking head hovered over mine.

  “Come here.”

  I allowed him to pull me upright into his chilly embrace, sparks exploding underneath my skin as he swept his arm around my back. His wet lips touched mine, and I wrapped my hands around his damp head to deepen the kiss. When he pulled away, my heart was flip-flopping in my chest.

  “We don’t take enough vacations.”

  “We’ve only been together six months.”

  He made a sound at the back of his throat. My lips were still tingling from his kiss.

  It had been six amazing months. I found a job as a copy editor at a small publisher in the city. It paid little, but it was a start. Luke usually picked me up after work to take me out to dinner. Six months was enough to know I was in love. Hell, after the first month of dating I had a good feeling about him.

  “Penny for your thoughts?”

  I curled my fingers into his hair, suddenly shy. “This feels like a dream.”

  “Which part?”

  "You. The beach. All of it. But especially you."

  “I’m nothing special.”

  I blew out air through my nose. “Says the VP of the biggest hotel chain in the world.”

  “That’s just a job.”

  “You’re the one on the tabloids.”

  He shook his head. “Trust me, Jess. You’re the extraordinary one.”

  “What did I do?”

  “You made me fall in love with you.” He inched forward as my heart clenched.

  My face burned with the intensity of his stare.

  He loved me.

  No man had ever said that to me. It was hard to describe what it felt like—incredible joy swelled in my chest followed by fear.

  The fear it would all go away.

  But I knew that I felt the same about him—I probably loved him after the first week of dating him. Staying at his house already felt like home.

  I spent a lot of nights at his place, but I hadn’t abandoned my apartment, yet. I wasn’t ready to move in with him. Besides, there was still Natalie.

  I frowned as I thought of her. She split up with Ben, her longtime college sweetheart and fiancé. Natalie spent a lot of her days with a box of tissues nearby. I felt bad because things were going so well for me.

  “You’re thinking about her again, aren’t you?”

  “I can’t help it. She’s all alone.”

  “She’s not alone. She has a very supportive family.”

  I nodded. “Can’t you set her up with one of your friends?”<
br />
  He sighed and shook his head. “I can try.”

  I held him tightly against my chest. “Thanks. I love you.”

  His lips, soft against my cheek, raised a thrill inside me. I melted into his touch, bewildered by my love for him. I could never understand how he made me feel so complete. Luke helped me mend the hole in my heart. I didn’t think I would ever be afraid of anything again.

  “I love you, too.”

  If you enjoyed the book, please don’t forget to write a review!

  The sequel to The Cinderella Arrangement is included in your copy. Keep scrolling down to read the book! It is a 60k word, standalone novel with a HEA.

  The Cinderella Arrangement II

  1

  The lights in the mall seemed too bright. Jessica's blonde head bobbed in and out of view as she disappeared behind the dress racks in the petite section. I felt like a zombie as I walked toward her, rifling through clothes and feeling nothing but indifference for the styles.

  Too flashy. Too many sequins. What is this, prom? I hate babydoll dresses; they make me look like a child. No, no, no.

  Jessica dragged me out to the mall to go shopping with her because there was this party at her boyfriend’s house. They made up months ago.

  Ben and I were still over.

  You’ve seen the Facebook photos. He’s moving on.

  Less than a month after we broke up, I woke up to a splash of photos of my ex with another woman on Facebook: Ben sipping drinks with his coworkers in a flashy lounge, with his arm wrapped around a leggy brunette, her cleavage almost spilling from her dress. Seeing those hands I knew so well touching another woman gutted me. It was like he reached in and grabbed a fistful of my innards—and yanked. He made me feel worthless, and that was probably his intention.

  It was eight months since we broke up.

  Eight months of Facebook stalking and crying into tissues and my whole body shaking with sobs that exhausted me and left me so tired in the morning I could barely function. Eight months of that horrible, empty feeling in my chest. I missed him. I loved him. I hated him. Rinse and repeat.