Chapter 3
ELLORA
Perched on a stool behind the register with my laptop open in front of me, I looked around my little store and wondered how long it was going to be before I lost it.
Most people probably wouldn’t be caught dead in a place like this, let alone fight to be able to keep owning it, but Second Story was mine.
My business. My passion. My outlet for the creative streak that had kept me from going to business school in the first place.
The store was quiet today except for the faint hum of the heater. There was no one else here right now. Just me and my inventory, old clothing pieces that I’d breathed new life into and some cute little furniture pieces. I even had an entire section of vintage wedding dresses.
A lot of people thought that was beyond weird, but I loved it.
Every one of those dresses had a story, and honestly, I felt honored to have them here, just waiting to be part of the beginning of another epic love story.
There was also beat-up jewelry I’d upcycled and a whole bookshelf of vinyl records.
As my gaze skimmed across the scuffed wooden floors and the bright yellow walls I’d painted myself, I inhaled a deep breath of air that smelled like freshly baked goods from the bakery downstairs.
I adored every inch of this place, from the walls, to the floors, to every molecule of air, but when my eyes landed back on my laptop’s screen, I winced.
I’d been scrolling through listings for home healthcare nurses and my stomach sank further with every click of my mouse. The prices were astronomical, and naturally, the insurance company wouldn’t cover a dime.
Of course, they wouldn’t. Because why the heck would they? They’re only an insurance company.
I scoffed out loud, but then buried my face in my hands, trying to claw my way back to that mild feeling of peace I’d found just a few moments ago when I’d been looking around. It’d been fleeting though, and it was long gone.
Even before I’d moved out of the townhouse I’d shared with two roommates, I’d barely been scraping by. Now, with Mom’s medical bills on top of everything else, I was starting to feel like the Titanic. My iceberg was simply made of overdue invoices.
I sure hope this business class teaches me something because if it doesn’t, I’m officially doomed.
Annoyingly, my thoughts wandered to him when I started thinking about that class. My stupid hot professor.
It had been like this all week. I’d start sinking into despair because my situation truly sucked right now.
Just before I hit rock bottom and started bawling my eyes out, I’d inevitably grab onto the last shred of hope I had left—that class.
And as soon as that happened, my brain conjured up images of him.
Holden Langton.
As if I needed a distraction like that right now. I should’ve been focusing on the class itself, reading ahead as much as I could and squeezing every possible lesson out of the content before it was even presented. And I had been reading ahead, but even as I did, I kept wondering about him.
The man really was impossibly good looking.
Intent, piercing blue eyes that seemed to command attention—and induce dirty dreams. The sandy hair that was just long enough to make him look like a thoughtful academic rather than a slick businessman.
Shoulders broad enough for a girl to grab onto and that casual style, with the top button of his shirt undone?
Yes, please. Sir.
When I realized that my mind was on a direct path to the gutter again, I rolled my eyes at myself, heat spreading across my cheeks. Again.
This was ridiculous. Not only was the man my professor, but even if a guy like him could ever be interested in a girl like me, my life was such a hot mess that I couldn’t possibly subject anyone else to it.
The thought stung, the pain sharper than I wanted to admit, but that didn’t make it any less true. My future was crystal clear at this point. I was going to die alone as an old spinster, surrounded by feral cats and slightly suspicious credit card statements.
However, if I wanted to cling to any shred of dignity, the least I could do was to make sure he couldn’t tear me apart for my wardrobe again. That was something I could control and I knew exactly which box had the perfect outfit for my next class.
Time to do some unpacking.
A couple days later, I pushed open the classroom door and strutted in like I owned the entire building, or at least owned the confidence to fake it.
My second-best business outfit was doing all the heavy lifting tonight, a tailored skirt suit that hugged my curves in all the right places, making me look like a vintage pin-up model who also belonged in an MBA class.
Professional, with no skin showing, but still a total bombshell.
And apparently, it worked.
The second I stepped into the classroom, Holden’s eyes found me. For a split second, I swore it looked like he’d forgotten how to breathe. The other students were chattering around us, completely oblivious, but I could feel the heat from his stare like a sunbeam through a magnifying glass.
Since we technically still had a few seconds before class started, I lifted my chin a little higher and walked to his desk, stopping when I was close enough that only he could hear me.
“Better?” I asked. “Or do you have any more mean comments about my clothing?”
He blinked at me and said nothing at first. Not a word. Those blue eyes held mine, the faint scent of his cologne enveloping me in a way that almost made it my turn to drool, but even with him towering over me, I held my own.
“No comments from me,” he said finally, his voice low and measured.
“That’s what I thought,” I said, knowing I sounded a little bit smug, and then I walked to my seat, sitting down and leaving him to chew on that until class began.
He launched straight into a lecture about business models, projections, and some other jargon that I had been reading about while I was trying to get ahead, but I could tell he was distracted.
It seemed like he was clearing his throat a lot, glancing at the door and then back at me like he couldn’t make up his mind about whether to focus or just watch me all night.
Holden seemed completely thrown off his game, and while I knew I hadn’t achieved much by it, it still gave me a quiet little thrill. He’d made me feel so small after our first class and at least this made me feel like I’d reclaimed a little bit of ground.
Every time he glanced my way, I returned his stare with a slow, challenging look of my own, just enough to remind him I was aware of his wandering eyes.
He was still Holden Langton, effortlessly smooth and intimidatingly attractive, but I could tell when he stumbled over a word or trailed off mid-thought.
Each tiny misstep he made felt like payback. He’d judged me without knowing a damn thing about my life and now, here I was, savoring my quiet, private victory. Not that I would let him see it.
I didn’t need anyone’s pity or charity. I was here to learn, to survive, to scrape together a little business acumen to keep my store afloat. And maybe also just a little bit to prove that I was more than just some cartoon-frog T-shirt disaster.
When class finally wrapped up, I gathered my things and turned toward the door, strutting just a little because, hell, I had earned this, but then I heard his voice.
“Ellora?”
I froze, my stomach hitting the floor. He knows my name?
“Can you stay behind for a second?” he asked, and though the words were simple and his tone nonthreatening, it felt like the request thickened the air between us.
A few short words, and suddenly, I wasn’t strutting anymore. My heart started hammering. Had I taken it too far?
I paused and gripped the strap of my bag a little tighter, wondering exactly what kind of trouble I’d just invited, but since I couldn’t really say no, I turned around again.
Walking back to him, I stopped on the other side of his desk, scared, curious, and oh.
My. God. Am I also a little bit turned on?
Standing at his full height, he looked down into my eyes, unwavering and looking impossibly broad as he crossed his arms. Although he was wearing a long-sleeved button-down again, I could see muscle rippling under the fabric even if I couldn’t see his actual arms.
“Do you want to go out with me?” he asked, blunt and surprisingly steady.
“Absolutely not,” I said without hesitation, my eyes widening and my heart lurching into my throat.
He nodded, as if he’d expected that answer. “Good. In that case, let me buy you a cup of coffee. I have a business proposal for you.”
I blinked hard. Coffee? Business proposal? What the hell? Also, he knows my name. He knows my freaking name. That can’t be a good thing, right?
My brain was still running replays of our little standoff during class, and now he wanted to drag me somewhere? Suspicious didn’t even begin to cover it, but curiosity got the better of me and I nodded.
Holden slung a leather satchel across his shoulder and motioned toward the door, walking in the direction of the campus cafe after we left the classroom building. I fell into step beside him, feeling the kind of dread I suspected was usually reserved for being walked to the gallows.
“Business proposal,” I muttered under my breath, glancing up at him.
From this angle, I caught the curve of his lips as he smirked, but he kept his gaze dead ahead, not giving anything else away. Meanwhile, I felt more and more like I was walking into a trap, and yet, despite everything, my stomach wouldn’t stop flipping.
Why didn’t I just say yes when he asked if I wanted to go out with him? Even a date with my professor sure would’ve been a heck of a lot less terrifying than whatever this was going to turn out to be.