After reading a letter from someone she has never met, Gemma Moreno is offered a once in a lifetime opportunity that could change her life forever. Torn between accepting an offer she knows she will never be able to repay, Gemma needs to decide if...
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I can almost feel the cold metal of the handcuffs around my wrist as my own personal horror movie plays through my mind. The possibility of losing Dom forever causes my mouth to dry, and no amount of swallowing helps to temper the taste of bile clawing its way up my throat, threatening to cover the coak desk I am sitting in front of.
The blinds of the office window that look out towards the busy road are closed, leaving me here with only my negative thoughts to keep me company.
Pictures of a happy looking family cover the walls as well as newspaper clippings I can't quite make out. My eyes squint as I try to read the writing, but the sound of the door opening pulls me from attempts.
A middle-aged man with salt and peppered hair walks into the room. Making sure to shut the door behind him, he walks to his desk.
My body tenses as he sits in his chair, pulling himself towards the desk and his dark onyx eyes never leaving mine. Before placing his folded hands on the flat surface, he adjusts the dark-rimmed glasses falling down his thin well-cut nose.
His intense gaze causes me to shift uncomfortably in my seat as I wait to hear what my punishment will be, and I silently pray it doesn't involve handcuffs and metal bars.
After what seems like a lifetime, he opens his mouth to speak, "Hello..."
"Gemma Moreno."
"Miss. Moreno." His brown eyes scan my face before looking down at the raggedy gray sweatshirt I'm wearing. Nodding slowly, he says, "I'm Bruce Newman, the owner of this place. Care to tell me why you were shoving a loaf of bread under your shirt?"
Ashamed of my actions, I bring my focus down to the cuticles surrounding my chipped nails. An internal battle starts to brew as I try to decide if I should tell him the truth, or make something up that sounds less pathetic than me not being able to afford food for my brother.
My childish thoughts disappear, and I know what I have to do. I need to tell the truth so that I can do at least one honest thing today.
Bringing my chin upwards, I look straight into the man's dark eyes. "I had no food at home, and my last few dollars were going towards medicine for my sick brother. I was going-"
The gentleman holds up his hand, preventing me from telling him that I had every intention of paying back the store once I found a job. "You have no food?"
Shaking my head in shame, I answer, "No, sir. I used our last piece of bread this morning. That is pretty much what we have been living off of."
Mr. Newman's dark bushy eyebrows raise, and his stern face morphs into one filled with questions. "How old are you? You look young, maybe still in high school."
Unsure if I should be offended or flattered that he believes I am younger than I am, I try to answer as politely as possible. "I'm sure one day I will finally look my age, but I am twenty."
