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Me: I’m sorry if I upset you. That wasn’t my intention. I just wanted you to be able to step away from work and focus on your studies. These last few months matter most.

I wait for her reply, but when none comes, I send another message.

Me: I don’t need or want your money, but if it makes you feel better, we can stick to the original plan. I’ll just garnish your wages once you start working for me.

Poppy: If this is how you operate, I have no plans to come work for you, but rest assured, I’ll be paying back every single cent.

My heart drops as I read her words. Have I already fucked things up between us before they’ve even really started?

Poppy: Oh my god!!!!! You paid off my HECS debt as well? Un-fucking-believable. Don’t bother picking me up tonight ... and while you’re at it, maybe it’s for the best if you lose my number.

I guess the brand new car I just purchased for her is going to land like a lead fucking balloon.

As I exit the vehicle, I close the Messages app and pull up her number. I’m done with this back-and-forth bullshit. I’ve never been one to grovel, but I’m pretty sure that’s exactly what I’m about to do. I don’t want to lose her over this.

I start pacing as I wait for the call to connect, but what I get instead is, “The number you have called is not available.”

Has she blocked me?

I try the number again and get the same thing.

“Fuck,” I yell loud enough that the word echoes through the enclosed concrete garage.

I try the number three more times as I make my way upstairs to my office, but when I get there, I’ve come to the conclusion I’ve definitely been blocked.

As I pass Chelsy, she glances up and snorts. “Wow, that smile is well and truly gone now. That didn’t last long.”

I glance in her direction with a look that says, ‘Mind your own fucking business’. And, just because I’m apparently a complete arsehole, I slam my office door behind me.

How am I going to fix this?

Chapter 12

Poppy

It’s been two days since I blocked Bennett’s number, and as hard as it was, it was something I needed to do. I was in the middle of class when the first email came through, alerting me to what he had done, and after a brief message exchange with him, I quickly started to spiral.

This whole situation bothers me so much. It made everything we shared last night suddenly feel … dirty. I hate the way rich people think they can buy their way into anything. The sad part is, he could’ve had me for free.

I don’t need money to be happy. I’ve been frugal all my life, and I’ve learned to make my own way without anyone’s help. There’s a certain satisfaction that comes with doing things for yourself. A sense of pride that no amount of money could ever replace.

It’s like the rich kids in my class. They got all the best placements at top law firms, despite my grades being far superior.

It doesn’t seem to matter how hard I work; it always comes down to what I don’t have. A prestigious last name. A trust fund. Or parents with clout and ridiculously padded bank accounts.

The fact that Bennett thought he could change my life just because he can afford to really rubs me the wrong way. I’m not a charity case. I don’t want his handouts. I wanted him—the person—not what he could do for me.

That’s the hardest part. I’d already told him I wasn’t interested in his proposal, but he went ahead and did it anyway.

Even if I wanted to stop working, I couldn’t. I still have expenses, like rates, utilities and food. Now that Nanna’s pension won’t be contributing to the household, things are only going to get tougher.

It’s all too much. Far too overwhelming.

By the time I step off the bus, I feel like I’m dragging my feet. Classes finished early today, so I have a few extra hours to study before my evening shift at the pizza place.

With everything going on, plus the time I took off after Nanna’s passing, I feel like I’m falling behind.

I look up when I reach the house and pause halfway across the lawn as soon as I notice a large flower arrangement sitting on the front porch.