Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
Samantha
I knew something was wrong the second I opened the door to my classroom. The students were quiet. Twenty-six teenagers were never quiet. Ever. They stared at me as I set my bag down. They knew. They’ve seen.
“Miss Hollis.” Devon had his phone up before I could bring the basket around to collect their phones.
“Phones. Basket.” I walked around the room.
“This article is very educational,” Devon said. “I’m learning so much.” He snickered.
“Is he your boyfriend now?” Lacey asked.
“He’s not anything. It was for the school, and each of you knows that.”
“But you told us you weren’t entering the blind date auction,” Gina said.
“I didn’t. My daughter signed me up without telling me. I was just as shocked Friday night as you all are right now.”
“Sam, you went on a date with a billionaire. A freaking billionaire. You told us that money is soul-corroding, and it changes people. Like in The Great Gatsby.”
“And I still stand by that.”
“But you were holding his arm in the picture,” Devon said.
“I am not holding—” I took a closer look at the photo before I made Devon toss it into the basket. Shit. I was slightly holding his arm. “That was for show. Open your books.”
They all sat there and stared at me with their little teenage faces, smirks crossing each of their lips. I lost them, and I knew it. And the only way to get them back was to be straightforward.
“Fine. Gina, go into the teacher’s lounge and get me a cup of coffee.” I walked over to my desk, grabbed my mug, and handed it to her.
“But I’ll get in trouble. What if Mr. Pipps is in there?”
“He’s in the middle of class. Nobody will be in there. And if someone is, you tell them that I sent you. Here’s a hall pass.”
I leaned against my desk with my arms folded, waiting for Gina to return with my morning fuel.
“I think it’s great, Sam.” Delilah smiled.
“Thank you, Delilah. It was for the school. We raised enough money to keep the programs running for the next two years.”
Gina walked back into the room and handed me my coffee.
“Thank you. Was anyone in there?”
“No. Thank God.” She returned to her seat.
“I see you all want to make my date with the billionaire educational. So, let’s make it educational before we move on to something else.
We’re going to put Mr. Castile to work.” I grinned and walked up to the board.
I wrote a single word in all caps: ARECHTYPE.
“Somebody tell me which man from literature you think he is, and I want you to defend it. This is now an assignment.” I looked at Devon.
“Devon, it will be graded as extra credit, so wipe the joy this is bringing you off your face.”
“He’s totally Gatsby,” Devon said. “He’s rich, throws money around, mysterious, and probably a very sad man inside, considering what I’ve seen and read.”
“What do you mean by what you’ve seen and read?” I tipped the mug to my lips.
“Gee, Sam. Don’t you use Google?” he asked. “Have you not Googled the guy?”
“No, I haven’t. Why would I?”
“Well, I did. Not too long ago, he was photographed on Broadway and 42nd breaking up with some chick. The headline read: Cold As Castile: Playboy Billionaire Weston Castile and Supermodel Claudia Williams Explode. Apparently, she threw a Cartier bracelet at him, which he bought her.”
“Okay. We don’t know what their relationship was like. Maybe she had a good reason to throw her Cartier bracelet at him. I don’t know, nor do I care. Mr. Castile and I went on one date for the school and to save the programs here. He is not my boyfriend, and I will not be seeing him again.”
“Sam,” Lauren raised her hand. “His company is the one that is evicting Mr. Avila and forcing him to shut down his bakery. I overheard my parents talking about it over the weekend.”
“Yep. He sure is as cold as ice.” Devon smiled, placing his hands behind his head and leaning back in his chair.
Mr. Avila. Shit. I forgot about that.
“Okay. You’re all getting extra credit. Let’s move on now. We’re going to discuss your essays.”
I was gathering my things to leave when Zoey stepped into the classroom.
“Hey, honey. I was just going to text you.”
“I’m going shopping with Maya for a while since there’s no soccer practice today. She needs to get a dress for a party this weekend.”
“Okay. Make sure to be home by seven. I have to run.”
“Why? Where are you going?” Her brows furrowed.
“I just have a couple of errands to run. Love you, Zoey bear.” I smiled, leaving the classroom.
“Don’t call me that!”
I prayed Weston was at the office after giving the cab driver his building address. Stepping into the large glass tower on 767 Fifth Avenue, I took the elevator up to the 52nd floor.
“May I help you?” A young blonde woman behind a large, curved mahogany desk asked.
“I need to speak with Mr. Castile, please.” I smiled, holding a white box.
“Do you have an appointment?”
“No, I don’t.”
“Mr. Castile is available by appointment only.”
“I just need five minutes,” I said.
“No.”
“Can you please just call down to his office and tell him that Samantha is here?”
“No.”
“I’m sorry. Did you just say no?” I stared at her.
“Mr. Castile doesn’t accept unscheduled visitors.” She stared back, her extra-long, fake eyelashes distracting me.
This woman was nothing short of a human brick wall.
“Okay.” I nodded. “I understand.”
“Good.” The blonde smiled.
I turned around and took a seat in one of the gray chairs by the wall.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Waiting.”
“You cannot wait without an appointment.”
“Sure, I can.” I crossed my legs.
“I’m calling security,” She reached for the phone sitting beside her.
“Go ahead,” I said.
The elevator dinged, and the doors opened. I couldn’t believe it when I saw Weston step out.
“Weston,” I said, jumping up from my chair, gripping the white box tightly.
He turned and stared at me. “Samantha? What are you doing here?”
“I tried to come down to your office to speak with you, but your dragon over here wouldn’t let me.”
He looked at the blonde and walked over to her.
“Miss Hollis is allowed to come down to my office whenever she pleases,” he told her.
“Even without an appointment?”
“Yes. Even without an appointment. Follow me, Samantha.”
I turned to the blonde dragon and did something I couldn’t believe I'd done. I stuck my tongue out at her.
“What did you want to speak to me about? And what’s in the box?”
“You’ll see.” I followed him down to this office.
When I stepped inside, I couldn’t believe it was bigger than my entire apartment.
“Wow. This is your office?”
“It is.” He sat behind his desk. “Are you going to tell me what’s in the box and why you’re here?”
“I bring you,” I grinned, lifting the lid, “pastries. We have donuts, cookies, and these delicious cinnamon rolls.”
“But why?” He looked up at me.
“Why not?” I took one of the cinnamon rolls from the box and handed it to him. “Try it.”
“I don’t want it.”
“Do you not like cinnamon rolls? Because if you don’t, something is wrong with you.”
“I love cinnamon rolls. I just don’t want it right now.”
“Just take a bite,” I spoke through gritted teeth.
“Samantha, what is going on here?”
“Just humor me, Wes, and take a damn bite.”
He inhaled a sharp breath as he lifted the cinnamon roll to his mouth and bit into it. I watched every emotion cross his face.
“There it is.” I grinned.
He looked up at me. “What is this?”
“A cinnamon roll.” My brows furrowed.
“No. This is not a cinnamon roll.”
“It literally is a cinnamon roll,” I said.
“No.” He shook his head. “I’ve had cinnamon rolls before.
“Apparently, you’re confused and haven’t,” I said.