Fate’s Ambition (The Price of Love #1)

Prologue

CALLIE

“But sweetie, the tracking says the postal service delivered your package yesterday! How are you supposed to get it if you don’t even know where to look?” My mother’s shrill voice made the phone crackle.

I rolled my eyes as I descended the stairs.

The ancient elevator that Marco and I had affectionately named Otis had broken down before the first week of classes began.

The stairwell was hot, reeking of stale beer and dirty laundry.

At the bottom, I pushed through the heavy door and entered the lobby.

It was dingy and cluttered with ripped old couches, but the air was cooler and fresher.

Despite only moving in ten days ago, my mailbox was overflowing. I rifled through junk mail and flyers until I spotted a small slip of paper. My eyes narrowed as I peered at the mailman’s scrawl.

“Mom, it looks like I have to pick up packages from the building next door. I’ll go grab it, then call you back, okay?”

“Sounds good, sweetie.”

Slipping the piece of paper into my hoodie pocket, I turned around and jumped out of my skin. “Mother fuc—”

A dark silhouette loomed in front of me, haloed by the waning sunlight filtering in from outside. The shadow strode forward, resolving into the figure of a man. He was tall, well-groomed and drop-dead gorgeous.

My heart pounded under my hand as I clutched at my chest and tried to slow my breathing. At his approach, my sandpaper tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth. He smelled divine, sophisticated and manly—not even a hint of Axe body spray.

“Everything okay over here?” The low, smooth voice made all the blood rush from my head.

Mr. Smells-Like-Grown-Man quirked an amused eyebrow.

Lost for words, I surrendered to my inner thirst-monster. My eyes roamed over him, drinking him in. His god-like body had been poured into an elegant designer suit.

Painful seconds ticked by while I stared, mouth opening and closing like a fish.

“I, uh...I’m fine.” I gestured at the mess of papers, cheeks burning. “Just waiting on a package from my mom.”

“Need some help?” He took another step closer, eyes roving over me in a way that made my stomach twist. He was so close, I could feel the heat radiating from his body.

I lifted my chin, refusing to be intimidated by some rich pretty-boy. “With finding my mom’s dumb box of makeup and snacks? Thanks, but I think I can handle it.”

“I’m Emmett.” A devastating smile crinkled the corners of his eyes. “I’m here to pick up my sister for dinner.”

“Good for you. I’d really just like to get my package now so I can go.”

He cocked his head, looking at me with undisguised interest. “In a hurry to get away from me, are you?”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” I crouched down and gathered the scattered mail into a neat pile. “Some of us have more important things to do than impress random guys in the lobby.”

“You’re right, I’m sure your evening is just packed with...studying?” His chuckle was like velvet. Despite my best efforts, I shivered.

Glaring, I rose to my full height—it brought my nose level with his chest. “Actually, yes. Not that it’s any of your business.”

His eyes danced with amusement. “Fair enough. Though you have to admit, I’m a bit more interesting than whatever’s in that box.”

“I highly doubt that.” I stepped around him, my papers clutched to my chest. “Now, if you’ll excuse me—”

He shot out a hand and grasped my upper arm, sending an electric tingle down to my toes. “Don’t be so sure. I could show you a good time, if you’d let me.”

Something stirred inside me. My heart thudded erratically as, for one delirious moment, I considered his proposition. Then I snapped out of it and managed to scoff. “Yeah, I’ll pass. Thanks.”

His smile widened as if he found my refusal entertaining. “Playing hard to get, huh? I like a challenge.”

I tugged my arm free of his grasp. Who did this jerk think he was? “You’re barking up the wrong tree, buddy. I’m not interested in whatever game you’re playing.”

“Who said anything about games?”

Before I could respond, a familiar voice cut through the air. “Emmett! There you are.”

My heart plummeted as Meghan strutted up beside Emmett, looping her arm through his. Of course. Of-fucking-course, this pretty-boy douche was related to the most obnoxious girl on campus.

Meghan’s nose crinkled as she glanced between us. “Why are you talking to her? Let’s go.”

I opened my mouth to let loose a scathing retort, but Emmett beat me to it.

“Jesus, Meghan. Do you have to be such a bitch all the time?” He shook his head and gave me an apologetic grimace. “Sorry about my sister. Sometimes she forgets her manners.”

My surprise must have shown on my face because Emmett chuckled again.

Then he winked at me. Actually fucking winked. My cheeks were on fire.

Meghan rolled her eyes and exited the lobby, leaving Emmett standing in front of me. “I’ll see you around, beautiful.”

With a parting smirk, he turned and followed his sister. I watched him fall into step beside the harpy, their bodies a stark contrast: him—tall, dark, and charming—and her—petite, blonde, and bitchy with an infuriating aura of entitlement.

In a foggy daze, I pushed through the lobby doors and into the brisk evening air. The walk to the neighboring building did little to settle my thoughts. My mind was full of Emmett’s handsome face and confident smirk.

I scoffed under my breath, berating myself. Getting caught up with a rich prick like him would only lead to disaster. I refused to end up like my mother—nothing more than a pampered trophy wife.

By the time I collected my package, I was in a foul mood. I needed to refocus, to ground myself.

I pushed open the door to my room. I’d lucked out and got a single.

The lucky feeling faded when I got my first whiff of the weird eggy smell seeping in from the hallway.

But it was my own space. I was in control and beholden to no one.

I tossed my keys onto the cheap pressboard desk and tore into the package.

It contained an array of expensive skincare products and high-end make-up, all curated to my mother’s exacting taste. I sighed. Even after all this time, she didn’t understand me.

I flipped open a sleek compact, revealing an elegant, pressed powder. My eyes widened at the astronomical price tag. Was this shit made of crushed diamonds?

I snapped it shut and pursed my lips. Part of me relished the luxury, but I couldn’t let myself get seduced by superficial things.

I pushed the box aside and retrieved my tattered planner from my backpack. Flipping through the crammed pages, I re-centered myself on my goals. This was what mattered—my future career, my independence, my impact on the world. Not pretty makeup compacts or roguish smiles from rich frat bros.

I grabbed my phone and dialed Mom’s number, preparing for an avalanche of criticism and probing questions.

“Hi sweetie, did you get it?” she gushed, not giving me a chance to speak.

“Yes, thanks, Mom. It was...very thoughtful.”

“Well, I wanted to make sure my baby has everything she needs to look her best. First impressions are so important, especially at a school like that. You never know who you might meet!”

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. She saw this as an opportunity to marry me off to someone “suitable.” For “suitable,” read “rich.”

“I’m here to study, not snag a sugar daddy.”

“Callie! Don’t be so crass—I simply want you to keep your options open.”

As I ended the call, I felt that familiar aching divide between us. She would never understand my need to find a purpose beyond social status and material success.

Still, that was her problem. My path was my own.

I turned back to my planner. This was my life. I wouldn’t let anyone, not even my mother, dictate how I should live it.