Page 12 of Miss Trust

Tory

Chance Maxwell was true to his word. The contract was drawn up and delivered first thing in the morning. I pored over every word in its six pages, ensuring I was not being taken advantage of. Begrudgingly, I had to admit it was more than fair. Of course, no contract could keep a powerful man from breaking a deal if he decided to. But how could I turn down this offer? Was there any price too steep to pay for my daughter’s care?

Given my newfound medical insurance and no rent to pay, the salary offered would allow me to chip away towards my medical debt. Once I was debt-free, there’d be a chance to save money for a house. One in a decent neighborhood. Of course, home ownership was beyond expensive in Southern California, but I wasn’t opposed to moving out of state. After Penelope was in remission for good, I’d search for a good school district. A safe home where I could raise her, maybe with a yard for a dog. A place where I could worry about the mundane things like what to pack for her lunch, a leaky faucet, or getting my oil changed in my car. I craved a normal life with every fiber of my being.

But for now I had to go with the cards we were dealt, which meant taking this job despite my trust issues.

I took a deep breath and signed my name on the dotted line of the contract. Now what? After finding his number on my phone from yesterday, I sent a text message.

“I have the signed document.”

“I will be by tonight to pick it up”came the immediate reply.

Ugh. I didn’t want him over here again in my space. He was too much…too much everything. Too handsome, too rich, too overwhelming. He made me glance around my shabby apartment and think about what he must see.

Of course, I’d never admit my intimidation to him. I could deal with rich pricks. I’d done it plenty at the club, but in small doses. I’d never had to work directly for one. There was a reason the men I’d dated were never alpha. I wanted to be able to maintain the control.

Hopefully, once I started my job, I would barely see him.

My fingers typed quickly. “I’m working at the club tonight. Tell me where to drop the contract off.”

The dots came immediately. Didn’t he have a busy job? Why was he replying so quickly? “Why are you still working at the club?”

It was none of his business, so I didn’t respond. But of course he called.

“Hello.” Agitation laced my greeting. But either he didn’t notice, or he didn’t care.

He repeated his texted question. “Why are you still working at the club?”

“It’s my last night, and I need to get my paycheck. Hopefully.”

“What do you mean by the word hopefully?”

It meant hopefully Ernie, the manager, who was a real prick, wouldn’t make an issue of me asking for my money early. “They may not have payment ready yet as paydays are typically Mondays. In any event, I will need to collect my things.”

“What time are you off?”

I took a deep breath, not liking his nosey questions or bossy tone. “Three a.m.”

“I’ll meet you after work.”

Right. Because it was perfectly normal for my new boss to swing by a strip club at three o’clock in the morning to pick up my signed employment contract. Whatever. For all I knew, he wanted to snap a picture of it to prove to his brother it was a done deal.

* * *

Unfortunately I didn’t geta minute to speak with Ernie until the end of my shift. He wasn’t happy to hear it would be my last night and refused to pay me out for my last week.

I tried to remain calm. But my refrigerator was nearly empty, I needed to pay the babysitter, and I had no idea when I’d get my first paycheck from Chance, so there was a note of desperation in my voice. “You owe me four hundred and fifty dollars.”

It wasn’t as if we had a payroll or a compensation cycle. He paid cash. And I was simply requesting mine early.

“Work the next two nights, and you’ll get your money,” he countered in a heavily accented voice. Smelling like smoke and cheap cologne, he was mostly harmless, but that didn’t mean he didn’t try to take advantage where he could.

“I’m not able to work the next two nights.” Although maybe I should if it meant I could get my money.

“You could always earn it on your knees.”

Another asshole in power who expected a sexual favor. And in return for something he owed me, no less. Blow jobs were the ultimate sign of degradation for a woman, and an unfortunate trigger for me, since my first one had been at the hands of a predator. “You can go to hell.”