Page 2 of Secured By the Buyer
I plaster on a fake smile and force myself to sound polite. “Sorry, I can’t. I’ve got my second job, remember?”
Displeasure curls his lip. “Didn’t you say your shift doesn’t start until seven?”
Not to him, I didn’t. Kayla stiffens, though, and I make a note of the betrayal.
“That’s right, but it’s across town, and I need to go home first to change. It takes an hour and a half.” I make a show of checking the clock. “In fact, I have to leave now if I’m going to catch the bus on time.”
“Fine,” he grumbles, “but if you want longer shifts, I can give them to you.”
“I’d love to, but I can’t.” No way in hell am I picking up whatever measly hours he offers when the pay won’t come close to covering what I make at the high-end casino as a maid.
It’s way out of my neighborhood, but if they ever offer me a full-time position, I’m out of here.
I throw the rest of the snacks from my cart onto the shelf, not bothering to face them or put the ones with a farther-out expiration dates at the back. Kayla can deal with the mess as an apology for discussing my schedule with our penny-pinching boss.
I punch out and grab my backpack from the employee’s room.
“I’m taking my break!” Kayla almost runs me over on her way through the door.
We shuffle-dance around each other, and a magazine falls from her hands.
I bend to pick it up. “What’s this?”
The front cover shows a candid shot of an attractive redheaded Alpha and a slender Omega withblack hair walking down the steps of a courthouse. The headline readsPlayboy Billionaire Exchanges Bachelorhood for a Wedding Ring.
Kayla snatches the gossip rag from me. “Don’t you know who the Rockfords are?”
“Sure, I do.” They own half the city, and their casino is the major competition for the one where I work. “But why are you wasting time reading when you’re obsessed with the latest merge game on your phone?”
She hugs it to her chest. “I’m mourning the loss of a sexy bachelor.”
I snort. “Like you ever had a chance.”
She tosses her blond hair. “Excuse me! IwasCaleb Rockford’s type before he got tricked into marrying this guy.”
“Yeah? You and what fortune?” I laugh outright. “Billionaires aren’t trolling the slums for brides.”
“You mock me, but this is a rags-to-riches story.” She smacks me with the magazine. “Oliver Kent came from our neighborhood. They met when Caleb saved him from a mugger in true fairy-tale fashion, so never say never.”
“Keep dreaming.” No billionaire sex god is going to be sweeping either of us off our feet.
When I step outside, the sun dips below thehorizon, casting long shadows across the cracked pavement. I hate this time of year, when I arrive at work before sunrise and leave when it sets. Not that my fair, freckled skin enjoys the exposure, but I need vitamin D and can’t afford to buy it in pill form.
I walk far enough from the convenience store to be out of sight. Once out of view, I transfer the package of trail mix and the single broken stick of pepperoni to my backpack so the precious food doesn’t fall out of my pockets.
Then I shrug on the pack and tighten the straps. I buckle the bottom one across my narrow waist, so the bag doesn’t bounce as I start jogging.
My legs pump with practiced speed, my breath coming in short gasps as I navigate the familiar route, going the long way to avoid the blocks claimed by gangs. My heart races as fast as my feet, each step bringing me closer to the house that’s more of a prison.
Around the next corner, I arrive on my street. As the dilapidated structure comes into view, the sinking sensation in my stomach deepens.
Home sweet hell.
I slow as I approach the creaking steps. The broken board near the top hasn’t been fixed since…well, ever, and I hop over it, my movements muscle memory by now.
Shoulder against the swollen door, I shove it open and brace myself for the assault on my senses. The sourness of stale beer and spoiled food roll out, a stench I’ve never grown accustomed to. Before I step into the living room, I know what I’ll find.
Sure enough, my father lies on the floor, passed out amidst a sea of empty cans. His loud snores rattle the peeling wallpaper, so at least he’s alive.