Indebted (Forbidden Love #1)

1. Chapter 1

Debt. With the amount piled on my shoulders, I should’ve had a better figure after carrying it around for so many years.

Or at the very least, an ass made out of steel.

Every time I thought I chipped away at it, more came to fill the hole.

But it was mine. Earned. Like the degree I was this close to getting. Like the paycheck I would cash after this shitty catering gig.

I had a plan. Major in computer science, graduate with top marks, secure a stable, well-paying job, and pay off what remained of my student loans that my financial aid didn’t cover.

My good grades got me some coverage, not as much as I’d like, but I’d been making it work.

I would make it on my own without anyone’s help. I’d been doing fine on my own.

Or so I’d thought.

The notification on my phone this morning still burned a hole in my pocket.

The financial office.

Your benefactor has missed a payment.

…the fuck?

My…what? I never signed up for someone to take care of me. I owned my debt. It was mine and mine alone. I would be indebted to no one.

The sudden glitch in my tuition payments kept a tight fist of anxiety around my heart.

I’d already balanced all my books for the year.

The payments were to be made like clockwork.

I couldn’t afford interest, or to pay the brunt of my tuition.

An LA blue and gold education didn’t come cheap.

This wasn’t part of the plan. Payments weren’t supposed to be missed.

They couldn’t be missed. Because if they were missed, then I couldn’t eat.

And I really liked to eat. How was my cookies and cream ice cream addiction supposed to fund itself?

“You’re still pissed about that benefactor thing, aren’t you?”

Silverware jumped from my hands. I caught it before it tumbled to the ground or worse, crashed into anything breakable. “Jeezus.” I glared over my shoulder.

My best friend, Zoe, flashed a grin.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I asked her, my head swiveling, certain my boss would not approve of me talking to one of the gala guests. “Aren’t you like, an hour early or something?”

Had I been off in my head for that long?

Zoe shrugged one delicate shoulder, her beautiful bronze skin exposed thanks to the toga type dress she wore.

Jealousy bite me on the ass. Not because Zoe looked flawless, but because her clothes looked like they wouldn’t have her dying of heat stroke.

I, on the other hand, had to wear closed toe shoes, socks, full length pants, and a long sleeve button up, complete with tie.

And the kicker?

All black.

Let’s not forget the August SoCal sun was an unforgiving bitch.

I was already sweating in my catering outfit.

“I’m sleuthing,” Zoe responded to my question, picking up a fork and squinting at it.

“Give me that.” I snatched it out of her hands. “What do you mean, sleuthing?”

“Your mysterious benefactor? I found out they’re part of the same philanthrope group as my stepmom.” As with any time she mentioned her stepmom, Zoe’s face scrunched up as if she’d bitten into something sour. “You know, that esteemed, alumni group?”

My stomach sank.

I liked it better when my benefactor was some faceless foreign entity in my head, like an oil rich prince who suffered from a brain aneurism and decided to donate all his money to a Southern California University, providing a free ride for all who attended.

The idea that I was beholden to someone here, at this gala where I worked for the sycophantic, stuck ups of the world, made my mouth taste like ash.

Today’s fake give-a-shit cause was funding a startup clinic for low income residence in East LA.

A worthy cause, if the motivation behind it had been genuine.

From my experience, these gigs were all about boosting PR.

And the man behind this little shindig was the owner of the large estate we were at, some plastic surgeon according to the gossip in the catering van who came from a well-known family of surgeons.

I only listened with half an ear on our ride out here.

I’d been too busy trying to contact the financial office.

I hadn’t been able to get through. Unlike a certain someone at my side.

“How do you know?” I asked, skeptical.

I hadn’t had time to do any digging on the internet. I’d been too busy trying to reach someone to fix the situation immediately. Sans that, I’d needed to go into my bank records to try and scrape together any money I had left in the event I needed to make a payment.

“I may have bribed some information out of the cute boy who works in the financials office when I got out of Econ class this morning,” Zoe flashed an innocent smile.

God bless, Zoe Costa, using her newly inherited riches for the greater good.

“Did he give you anything else?” I didn’t understand why anyone in this crowd would be interested in anything to do with me. Hell, most of the attendees here looked down on me. I would definitely qualify as a lower income resident.

My gaze drifted to one of the glaring poster boards propped on an easel beside the lap pool, the words flaunting that all who attended this private event should be proud of themselves for donating to the cause. It made me sick.

I didn’t come from money. I didn’t have the fancy mansion in Beverly Hills or the beach home in Santa Monica.

I used grocery store brand shampoo and had the same pair of jeans since high school.

My auburn hair hadn’t been cut in four months.

I didn’t get regular blow outs, or highlights, and ninety percent of the time, the only thing on my face was sunscreen.

Someone the rich and entitled wanted to linger with, I was not.

Zoe somehow managed to pilfer another utensil from my table, the spoon spinning through her fingers. She hated these events as much as I did. Zoe hadn’t come from money either, but then her dad re-married to a business mogul. Money problems solved.

Must be nice.

I shook the thought away before my mind could spiral down the depressing road of my familial relations and reached for the silverware before Zoe got me in trouble.

“Well?” I prompted, missing spoon firmly back in my hands.

Guests were starting to filter in from the side entrance, which meant I only had so much time to get Zoe to talk. No easy feat.

“Don’t worry, Anal Beads,” Zoe’s nickname for my uptight-ness stiffened my spine. I hated it. It always accompanied weird looks from passerby’s. “I got his number and he’s going to text me more info, he has to wait till his boss leaves for the day.”

“Don’t call me that, I’ve never used those, and you know it.”

Somehow, she’d commandeered another utensil. “Well maybe you should. It might help with some of that,” she waved the knife at me like a wand. “Stick up the ass syndrome you got going on.”

“It’s called stress, Zoe. I’m behind on tuition payments thanks to this nameless asshat. Someone I didn’t ask to help me, either. This was supposed to be government money.”

“So?”

The guests were coming in herds now. Black and white cows.

Zoe’s peach dress stood out. She did it on purpose.

“So,” I lowered my voice and tried to look busy.

“In my experience random strangers don’t donate that kind of money to one person unless they want something. And I am no one’s circus clown.”

My gaze narrowed on the perfectly tanned, botoxed guests.

Anyone of them could be my mystery benefactor.

The question that gnawed at me was, why?

What did they want? I had nothing to offer, which made me antsy.

The school year was set to begin soon and if this payment situation didn’t get sorted, I was so screwed.

I had to find out who it was. Maybe it was time to do my own sleuthing between carting trays of caviar and stupid expensive champagne.

Sweat dotted my forehead as I steered clear of another guest, my shoulder burning with the stacks of empty glasses and plates piled onto my tray. Every time I passed a new set of fake pearly whites, a hand shot out and more shit was added to my tray with no regard for my shaking muscles.

I wasn’t even an hour into my shift, and I already needed water, and to find a quiet corner in the mansion to enjoy the air conditioning.

After putting my dirty tray down, I headed toward the arched double doors that connected the kitchen to the large backyard.

I knew they were unlocked, we weren’t quote, unquote, prohibited from going into the mansion, but after dropping off my tray of dirty dishes, I grabbed a few empty bottles as my insurance policy.

The man dressed in a pressed suit standing by the kitchen double doors stared at me.

I offered my most beguiling smile and held up the champagne bottles. “Going to grab a few more before the speeches start.”

I got a stiff nod for my words and the door opened for me.

The first hit of AC nearly had me moaning.

Cool air bathed my skin, sending a chill down my spine, freezing the dots of sweat where they rested.

Only in California can it go from uncomfortably hot to extreme cold in a manner of seconds.

I hurried past the open design kitchen, not allowing my eyes to focus on the dark marbling or large island. It was modern and beautiful, and I hated that I liked it. Maybe one day I could have this, it was something to strive for, something else I would earn on my own.

Not if you can’t finish school.

Fuck.

My fingers itched to check my phone, but it hadn’t buzzed since Zoe and I parted ways. I had to trust that she’d let me know as soon as she heard anything.

I could try and sneak away to call the financial office, but if the benefactor wanted to remain anonymous, I doubted anything I had to say would convince the school employees to disclose that information.

I needed backup plans in place. Now. Screw this benefactor.

I hated them on principal—first because they’d snuck into my life without giving me any say, and now they couldn’t even hold up their end of the bargain.

Figures. I’d catered enough charity events to know the rich and bored tended to make snap decisions.

Like say, financially backing an abandoned, emotionally jilted, poor computer science major.

The faster I could figure out a way to cut them out completely, the better.

There had to be more financial aid I could apply for.

Maybe a scholarship or two. My final project had a lot of promise, perhaps I could market it sooner than expected.

Clapping sounded from outside, pulling me from my erratic thoughts. Looked like the speeches were already starting.

“Katie!”

My fingers tightened around the bottles in my hand, my bosses voice grating against my skin.

I had no idea where she’d come from, but judging by the lack of sweat anywhere on her skin, I’d say she’d been enjoying the AC the entire event. “You’re not supposed to be in here.”

Um, not true.

The bottles were wrenched from my hands, a fresh tray with filled flutes offered up instead.

“Get out there, now.”

“I needed to use the bathroom.”

“Use the one outside.”

“It was full.”

“Then wait like everyone else.” She stared pointedly in the direction of the kitchen, back to the sweltering heat.

“I needed a water break.” I knew I was standing on thin ice, pushing when I should relent, but today wasn’t my day and the heat was only putting me in a shittier mood.

My boss made a show of glancing at her watch. “You’re not scheduled for a break for another few hours, water for the staff is outside, but if you’d rather stay inside and relax, I’m more than happy to dock your pay.” She reached for the tray in my hands.

Clenching my jaw, I spun on my heel and headed toward the sound of voices. The kitchen doors opened for me like magic and the booming voice of the speaker at the podium greeted me.

“…now, it is my pleasure to introduce the man behind the dream. Please give a warm welcome to Dr. Justin Kingston.”

Lead replaced my shoes, bringing me to a screeching halt, the flutes on my tray tilting ominously. I hardly noticed, my eyes were too busy zeroing in on the man behind the podium.

“No.”