Hence the need to find paid employment that could fit around my work schedule.
Yeah, that didn’t exactly work out as planned.
I glance over now to see the man looking at me. His size is even more evident here inside the vehicle. He takes up the entire space behind the wheel with the seat pushed back as far as possible, and I wonder if I’ve just put myself in another position I will regret.
“Here.” He reaches into the back seat and pulls a suit jacket off a hanger, handing it to me. “Lean forward.”
I’m shivering, so I do as he asks, and his monstrous hands wrap the jacket around me as though I’m as delicate as a rose, then I settle back in the seat, wondering what the hell I’m going to do now.
I reach up and wince as my fingers touch the throbbing knot just above my temple where my head hit the street.
“Thanks,” I mumble, running my hands up and down my arms under the jacket. “I’m fine now. I’ll call an Uber. Or just drop me off somewhere I can go inside. I’ll find my way home.”
“I’m taking you to the hospital.”
“No,” I half shout, then try to control my tone. “I’m fine. It’s a little bump, no hospital.” I shake my head, and it makes me dizzy.
He clears his throat as he puts the oddly quiet SUV into gear and begins to drive forward. His masculine scent is mixed with the unmistakable new-car smell as he turns up the heat, and the warm air blows around my feet.
“You hit your head. You need an X-ray at the very least.”
“Just, I can’t—”
“Can’t what?”
“I’m fine,” I try again, but I can see he’s having none of it, so I decide to try the truth. “I don’t have insurance. I can’t afford a hospital, and I’m really fine.” The pain in my head begs to differ,but having gone through all the bills from my father, I know what one simple emergency room visit is going to cost.
“Don’t worry about that. I hit you. You aren’t responsible for paying. I insist you go, and I’ll take care of any costs.” His tone darkens, and it makes me nervous, but in a way that feels exciting.
I chew on my bottom lip, trying to get a grip on this energy I feel between this stranger and me. For all I know, and with the day I’m having, he’s probably a serial killer.
But somehow, and maybe it’s the bump on my head, I can’t fight this odd attraction I feel toward my soon-to-be murderer.
We drive toward the hospital in silence, then after barely a minute, his hand comes over to take mine from my lap and my heart leaps. He looks over, and I see kindness in his dark eyes and feel warmth in his touch.
“You’ll be okay. I’ll make sure of it.”
I nod, unsure what else to say or do, and my thoughts drift back to why I was running around in the rain in the first place.
After delivering the coffee to everyone yesterday morning at work, there was a bright spot when one of the paralegals came around my desk and asked me what was wrong. Her name is Nadine, she’s been decent with me since I started, and she's easy to talk to. She’s the sort of person that tells you how pretty you are just to brighten your day like she’s not three steps higher up the ladder than me. So, feeling ready to snap and running on little sleep, I gave her the Reader’s Digest condensed version of what's going on with my parents.
She listened quietly, then peeled a Post-it note from the pad on my desk and wrote down a name and number.
She said it was a friend of a friend, someone who might be able to give me some evening work; not a lot of hours and for good money. He might even be able to give me an advance.
My heart soared at the prospect of being able to do something to help my parents and keep my internship. Nadine told me all she knew was he had connections with clubs and high-end restaurants, and I’d be a hostess or something like that.
I called as soon as she walked away. He asked who sent me, and when I told him, he said to come to his office at 9 p.m. the next day, Saturday, and gave me the address. Said I came with a good reference, so he was sure he could help me out.
Nadine told me to dress like I was going to a five-star restaurant, so I spent the better part of today looking through clearance racks with my friend Karen until I finally found this red silk Calvin Klein dress that had been marked down three times. It accommodated my curves in a way even I thought looked pretty darn good.
Unfortunately, as it turns out, it wasn’t exactly the work I thought it would be.
When I met Mr. Salvatore tonight—no last name—he said I was exactly what he was looking for. He proceeded to give me a rundown of the potential monetary arrangements, all of which had my hopes up, and the hours I’d be expected to work. He then started describing the duties of the job, none of which sounded like hostess work to me. By this point, I was already starting to panic and look for the nearest exit, and then…he took his cock out and told me it was time to audition.
Fast forward to me running out into the rain without calling my Uber for a ride.
And now, here I am.
