Chapter 8
ANNA
“I just don’t get why you—” I attempt to swallow, but the thick knot in my throat makes it impossible. Clearing it, I stare out the window, idly dragging my finger along the condensation that’s formed on the glass. “Why you can’t be supportive?”
Mom called me a few minutes ago to compromise, but I know it’s to change my mind. I shouldn’t have answered, but I held on to hope she would listen. That hasn’t happened.
“Stop being so dramatic. I have been supportive. I am supportive.” She blows out a disgruntled sigh.
I can imagine her pinching the bridge of her nose and rolling her eyes.
“All I want is the best for you. That’s all your father and I have ever wanted.
Have you forgotten how hard we’ve worked?
What we did for you and your sister? It’s unfair how you’re treating us. ”
“Treating you?” I squeeze my eyes shut, feeling a headache coming on. “All I did was tell you I want to go to culinary school and not law school. We talked about this. You said if I changed my mind, you’d understand.”
“Anna.” Her tone is passive when she says my name, but I hear the admonishment. It’s the same tone she had when I was a child and she was reprimanding me. “I thought it was something you were saying in the moment. I didn’t think you were being serious.”
I bite the inside of my cheek hard to stop myself from screaming. “You know how much I love being in the kitchen. You’ve known—”
“Stop. Just stop. I called you to work things out and instead you’re stressing me out.
Your father and I have done nothing but be supportive.
We let you go to New York even though there are great schools here in North Carolina.
We’ve given you money. We’ve done so much for you, and this is how you repay us? You ungrateful, selfish girl!”
Tears threaten to spill, but I don’t blink. I refuse to cry. “I’m not ungrateful. I’ve done—”
“Nothing. You’ve done nothing but be a disappointment.
I don’t know what we did to deserve this, after everything we sacrificed to come here and give you and Maya a better life.
You should learn from your sister. Look at what she’s doing.
She’s going to be a doctor! While you’re going to be stuck in a kitchen.
A kitchen, for Christ’s sake. It isn’t reliable or sustainable.
You’re throwing your future away, and all for what? A job that—”
“You don’t have to worry about paying for anything. I can manage. I can—”
“You’re damn right you’ll be paying.” She scoffs so loudly I have to hold the phone away from my ear.
“I see that this is going nowhere. You’re a lost cause.
Useless. When you finally come to your senses and get yourself together, call me and make sure you don’t waste my time because you’ve already done enough of that. ”
“Mo—” The rest of my words die at the back of my throat as she hangs up.
Dropping my phone on my lap, I ball my hands into tight fists. My temples throb and nausea slithers up my throat, past the lump.
“Anna.” Jenny reaches for my hand from the driver’s side, and I almost can’t stand the careful way she speaks my name. I don’t deserve her empathy.
Thank God she’s driving the company car, I would have crashed it.
“It’s…” My voice breaks but I clear it. “It’s fine. I knew this was going to happen. I thought she’d hear me out, but it’s fine. I don’t want to talk about it anymore.” I turn the dial up, letting “Jingle Bell Rock” blast from the van’s speakers.
Thankfully, she stays quiet. I shouldn’t simmer in Mom’s words, but they grow louder by the second, intensifying in my head.
I remind myself to breathe in and out and forge on through a fresh wave of nausea.
A few minutes later we’re at Sylas’s penthouse. The sickening feeling has somewhat subsided, and my headache has dropped from a seven to a four.
“You’d think with all the money he has, every inch of this place would be decorated. Someone’s not very festive. It’s giving Scrooge.” Jenny grins, jabbing me softly in my side.
I smile a little but falter once I’m standing in the pristine living room.
It looks the way it did when we left Monday.
It’s strange, usually we’ll find an empty shaker containing the remnants of a protein shake, his shoes, rolls of cloth tape, jackets and sweaters.
But it’s spotless, like he’s not been here.
I almost let myself believe he’s gone for the holidays, but then I hear his heavy footsteps coming down the steps.
“He’s here again,” she whispers, staring at me, confused. “Did we show up too early? Too late? On the wrong date? This is weird.”
I shake my head and agree on the weird comment. In the three years we’ve been cleaning his penthouse, he’s never been here. Except for a few days ago and now twice this a week.
“Hey,” he greets us.
Jenny, of course, smiles cheerily and waves at him, but I’m not sure how to feel. Though I don’t know what there is to feel. This is his home, after all. He can be here if he wants. Which he is, obviously, and now flashbacks of Friday play in my head.
Jenny elbows me in the arm, interrupting my thoughts. “Huh?”
“Can I talk to you?” Sylas asks me, the corners of his mouth curling upward into a small smile, making his dimples indent on his cheeks. I notice the slight scruff on his jaw as it flexes every few seconds, like he’s chewing on something.
“About?” I’ve been trying to keep my distance from him since our run-in, and I hoped he’d want to do the same.
“I need to talk to you. It’ll be quick. I promise.”
“Go.” Jenny not-so-gently nudges me.
I give her a look, but she feigns ignorance, grabbing the cart and tugging it along with her to the bathroom.
“Traidora.” I glare at her.
Sylas quietly chuckles, and I wonder if he understood me.
We once again find ourselves on the terrace. I expect to be blasted with frosty Manhattan air, wait for the inevitable lingering smell of acrid stale tobacco, but neither happens. I search for the ashtrays and butts that are usually scattered about, but I don’t see them either.
It’s surprisingly warm and while I catch the faintest whiff of tobacco, there’s an overpowering smell of cedar and something expensive. I can’t pinpoint what it is, but it’s enticing.
“I want to make you a proposition,” he begins, jaw flexing harder as he tucks his hands in his pockets, but not before I notice the tremors.
“Are you okay?” I eye him, skeptical and a little concerned.
“Yeah, why?” He chews faster.
“You look like you’re about to have a heart attack or something,” I joke, but he looks visibly uncomfortable, so I tone it down. “No, really, are you okay?”
He flashes me a grin that manifests into a smug smirk. “Cute. You’re worried about me.”
This is what I get for showing concern. “No, calling 9-1-1 would be a nightmare and I have another job to be at. I’m not trying to be here all day.”
“And here I thought you cared.” He pops a bubble and for some odd reason unbeknownst to me, it’s kind of…hot.
My headache is now at a two, and surprisingly, I feel calmer despite the conversation with my mother. “Seriously, are you okay?”
He ruffles a hand through his mussed hair, the tremor slight but not as bad as when I first noticed it. “Yeah, just trying out a new thing. Hadn’t realized how hard going cold turkey would be. It’s a bitch, I’ll tell you that.”
He’s not insinuating what I think he is…Is he? “You stopped smoking?”
Sylas shrugs. “A bratty smartass said it wasn’t good for my health, so I’m trying gum. Seeing what all the rave is about.”
I don’t mean to, but I can’t stop my lips from lifting upward. “She’s not bratty, she’s smart as fuck.”
“Let me guess? Graduated top ten in your class or something?”
“Number one,” I correct proudly.
“Valedictorian twins.”
“You graduated top of your class? Did Daddy pay for that too?” Okay, that was a bitchy thing to say, but after knowing his dad paid for him to pass our communications class, I can’t help but wonder.
He laughs, full and deep. “Sadly, no, daddy dearest didn’t pay my way to becoming valedictorian in high school.
Freshman year of college, on the other hand, he was feeling rather…
guilty.” His pale green eyes harden, face grim and taut as if he were remembering something, but then he does a one-eighty and his smile and posture become lax. “I happen to be very smart.”
While I’m tempted to ask what that was, I don’t.
“Right, it really shows,” I drawl, to which he chuckles. “So, gum…”
I didn’t anticipate for my words to hold any weight. I had expected him to blow me off.
“It’s all the rave.” He’s between serious and sarcastic, I can’t tell which, but I smile either way. “Right, then. Proposition. I want to make one.”
I narrow my eyes. “With me?”
“Yeah, I’ll get straight to the point. There’s an auction on Friday I have to be part of.
If you have nothing to do, I’d like for you to attend.
I’ll give you the money to bid on me and that’s all you’ll have to do.
When you win, we’ll part ways and you’ll never have to worry about me bothering you again. ”
I blink, feeling both amused and perplexed. I know about these auctions and how much money goes into them. Never been to one as I’m too broke to attend one.
“Me? Why?”
“Because you don’t give a fuck about who I am.”
“And because I won’t expect a date?”
“Mhm. So what do you say? I’ll pay you.”
I don’t know whether to be annoyed or ask how much. “What do I look like? Just because we—”
“You need the money. I overhead you Monday and, well…I’ll give you ten grand.”
If they could, my eyes would pop out of their sockets. I jolt back and blink rapidly, still not able to process his words. “You’d give me ten grand, just like that?”
“Just like that,” he says simply.
This isn’t real. It can’t be, right? This has to be a prank.
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll find someone else to do it.” That disrupts my thoughts and cuts through the silence.