The Contract; A Billionaire Romance (18+)

TWO

Odessa

"And why the hell did you not give him your number?" Jenna's voice is shrill on the other side of my phone.

I set the phone down on my washer and pull the clothes from the dryer, loading them into a wicker basket as I speak. "I'm letting the universe take the reins now, Jen. I can't do this dating scene anymore; I'm done with it." I drop my phone on top of the clothes, grab the handles of the basket, and lug it into my room just down the hall. Artemis, my little gray shadow, follows behind as she meows, knowing dinner is past due and wondering why the hell I'm not doing my rightful duties as a cat mom and keeping her stomach full. I nearly trip over her and curse as I jump around her, and she darts down the hall with her tail pinned between her legs.

"But you met him in the best way possible, Odessa! Not on a dating app, but organically. People would kill to meet someone in real life nowadays!"

Jenna's right. But it didn't feel right, and I knew it in my gut. Something told me that giving him my number, or even my name, would have led me down a far worse path. Now I just have a nameless man with kind eyes constantly on my mind, especially last night when I lay in bed with my vibrator as my only companion.

"Well, if we ever see each other again, then I'll take it as a sign," I say as I drop the basket with a huff.

"For someone who doesn't believe in a higher power, you sure love leaving things up to chance." I scoff and roll my eyes. I grab my phone, drop it on the bed, and start my grueling task of folding my third load of laundry to prepare for my new job. I know I'm going to be focused on work for the upcoming week, and in return will most likely be drained from the overload of new information, procedures, and complete change of routine, so I felt getting all my laundry out of the way would save future me from the pain. Besides, I needed to wash all the dress code-acceptable dresses, skirts, and blouses I maxed out my credit card on. I may feel like an imposter dressed in business casual, but they don't have to know I live my life primarily in skinny jeans and cropped shirts.

I'm just thankful they're lenient on tattoos and piercings. I don't know what type of person I would be without my nose ring.

"Just trust me," I say as I hold up a piece of fabric disguised as a shirt with too many straps, so I wad it up and throw it in with my other "going out" shirts. I'm not even going to try and fold that. "Has my intuition ever steered me wrong?"

"Yes," Jen replies with no hesitation. "Always. Your intuition sucks."

"You suck, you know that? Why can't you just be excited about my little forbidden kiss in the dive-iest of dive bars?"

"I am excited for you! Well, besides the fact that he's probably old enough to be your dad—but still."

"He is not old enough to be my dad. I pegged him at like, forty-two—if that! He'd have to be like sixteen when he had me to be my dad."

"That's not completely unheard of, you know."

"That's not the point, Jenna." I fold a pair of pants angrily and plop it on the growing pile of clothing that ranges in all shades of black since that seems to be the primary color I own.

"He was probably filthy rich, too. You could have had a sugar daddy. But nooo, you had to just leave it up to 'chance'."

"I don't need some man to take care of me. I'm more than capable."