Chapter 4 Flint
FLINT
I don’t sleep.
I lie in the dark, staring at the ceiling and thinking about Willa.
It seems to be the only thing I know how to do right now.
Ever since she left the interview and drove out of the forest in that beat-up old car, she’s been the only thing on my mind.
I can’t close my eyes without seeing that pretty face, imagining those big blue eyes looking up at me.
Fuck.
When dawn breaks outside my cabin, I finally give up on sleep. Instead, I grab my axe and step outside.
The forest is cold, the sunrise turning the sky orange overhead as I walk into the trees.
My office is only five-minutes away, a short trip through the woods, but Willa won’t be there for several hours.
I was flexible with her shifts, and we settled on Monday to Friday, 2:30 p.m. until 6:30 p.m. The hours slot between her jobs at the hotel and diner in a way that makes me uneasy.
There’s no way she’s getting enough sleep.
No way she has any time for herself.
As I stride through the undergrowth, I think about the salary I offered.
It’s far more than I originally planned to offer, but now I’m wondering if it was enough.
Business is good, despite my crappy admin system, and years of profits and solid investments have left me comfortably wealthy.
I’d love to help Willa out of whatever hole she’s in.
Hell, I’d do anything she asked. But something tells me she’d be too proud to accept charity from a guy she just met.
I’ll raise the salary next week, I think to myself.
She can’t argue with a raise.
I reach the part of the forest where I spent yesterday working, a pile of unchopped logs still waiting for me.
I’d usually have finished them with time to spare, but I was so damn distracted after the interview that I hardly got anything done.
Now I start where I left off, swinging my axe in a steady rhythm, mind drifting to Willa as the sun rises higher in the sky.
The morning passes unbearably slowly. I can’t stop checking the time.
Every minute feels like an hour, and by the time I finish lunch, I swear I’m going to burst with the anticipation that’s been building inside me since I woke up.
When two o’clock rolls around, I head for the office, unsure of what to do with myself.
I keep sitting down and standing up again, pacing aimlessly, running an agitated hand through my hair.
I’m still pacing when I hear the car—ten minutes early.
My heart starts to race, every nerve tingling when she finally knocks on the door.
“Don’t need to knock,” I call, fighting to keep my voice steady. “Come on in.”
Willa steps inside, looking even more beautiful than yesterday. She’s wearing dark pants and a light blue blouse that matches her eyes. When she sees me, her plump pink lips curl into a smile, and I lose my fucking mind all over again.
“Hi,” she says.
I can only manage a grunt and a nod in response.
“I hope this is okay.” Willa gestures to her clothes. “I wasn’t sure…”
“Yeah.” I clear my throat. “You can wear whatever you want.”
“Great.” She smiles again.
There’s a pause while I try to pull myself together. Then I gesture to the desk across from mine. “This is yours. Coffee’s over there on the counter. Help yourself when you want.”
“Thanks.”
She takes a seat at her desk and boots up the computer. I run over a few more details about the job, giving her the company log-in details, and explaining what my last admin assistant did.
“You’re definitely okay with me changing this up?” she asks. “Moving things digital?”
“Do whatever you think works best. Anything’s better than the current system.”
“Got it. Thanks, Flint.”
Then she gets to work, quiet and focused, tapping away on the computer. Occasionally, she flips through the papers piled on the desk or inspects the contents of a ring binder. But if she’s overwhelmed by all the crap she has to sort through, it doesn’t show.
There’s no need for me to be here. My crews are handling three sites without me.
Willa’s got the office covered, and my job is out in the forest, not behind this desk.
But I don’t leave. I turn on my own computer and answer a few emails.
Then I sort through the filing cabinet, tossing out old site schedules and haul route maps.
I make endless cups of coffee and drink slowly, taking my time with each one.
The excuses get less convincing as the minutes tick by.
The office feels like it’s pressing in on all sides, too cramped for both of us.
But I can’t make myself go. My gaze keeps drifting discreetly to Willa, watching as she pushes her bangs out of her eyes, her tongue poking between her teeth as her fingers dance across the keyboard ten times faster than mine ever could.
I keep waiting for her to ask me for help with something.
My old admin assistant was always asking me for directions, never taking any initiative.
But Willa works with the quiet competence of a woman who’s used to doing everything herself.
She doesn’t let up. Even with the dark circles under her eyes and the tired slump of her shoulders.
Even though this is her third job and I still can’t figure out how she’s finding time to sleep.
Maybe she isn’t.
The thought lodges in my chest. I can’t fucking stand it.
“Willa.”
She looks up when I say her name. “Yes?”
“Go take a break. Twenty minutes.”
“Uh, are you sure? I’ve only been working for an hour.”
“You get a twenty-minute break every shift,” I tell her. “At least one. Mandatory. Don’t worry, you’re still on the clock.”
“Okay…well, thanks, Flint.” She smiles a little uncertainly. “I guess I’ll go stretch my legs.”
“Sure.”
Willa stands up and heads out of the office. I swivel my chair around to face the window, watching as she walks down to the creek and takes a seat on the bank. She pulls out her phone, looking at something on the screen. Then she raises it to her ear—making a call.
It’s none of my damn business who she’s talking to. I know that. I also know that listening in on my employee’s phone calls is unprofessional.
But I don’t give a fuck.
Instinct has already propelled me from my seat, and I follow Willa’s path out of the office, closing the door behind me.
I can hear her sweet voice drifting from the creek, still too far away to make out any words.
I tiptoe through the undergrowth, using the trees for cover until I’m finally close enough to make out Willa’s voice.
She’s facing the water, her back to me, and I strain my ears to hear what she’s saying.
“—yes, I know that Everly. But what am I supposed to do?”
Her voice is different out here. The professional composure she’s been wearing all day has softened into something more unguarded.
“The site is called First Encounters,” she continues after a brief silence. “My listing is already live. The highest bid is nine grand…”
Another pause.
“Of course I don’t want to!” Willa says suddenly, her voice a half-sob that makes my chest clench. “I feel sick every time I think about it. But it feels like I’m all out of options. The debt collectors keep calling. They’ve started making threats.”
My blood runs cold as I process this snippet of information.
Threats. Debt collectors.
Willa is silent for longer this time, clearly listening to the person on the other end of the phone. Then she says, “Thank you, Ev. It means so much that you’re offering, and I appreciate it more than you know. I really do. But I’m not taking a dime of your savings.”
Another pause.
“I know, and I love you for offering. But you don’t understand, Ev. I owe eighty grand. Eight zero. And it just keeps going up.”
The number lands like a stone in my gut as I take in the reality of Willa’s situation. The reason she’s living on no sleep and working non-stop.
Eighty grand in debt.
Willa is saying something else now, something about her break being twenty minutes and how she has to head back soon. It snaps me back to reality, and I step back from my hiding spot, making a beeline for the office. When I reach it, I slump in my chair, running over everything I just heard.
Willa mentioned a site called First Encounters.
Something about a listing. A bid of $9,000.
Frowning, I open my browser and search for First Encounters. When I find the right website, it takes me a second to understand what I’m seeing. The page is covered in photos of young women, each one listed with a price. There’s a tagline at the top of the site:
Verified. Exclusive. Discreet.
Realization dawns slowly as I click a photo at random, reading the description that pops up. The wording is ambiguous, but I can read between the lines.
These women are selling their virginity to the highest bidder.
My jaw clenches so tight it aches. I grip the mouse and scroll, scanning, praying she’s not there. Page one, page two, page three…
With a violent jolt in my chest, I freeze.
At the top of the fourth page, Willa smiles shyly at me, with a bid of $9,000 beneath her photo. I stare. Everything goes quiet. So quiet I can hear the blood pumping in my ears. I think back to the conversation by the creek, the sob in Willa’s voice.
“Of course I don’t want to!”
“I feel sick every time I think about it.”
This angel is selling her innocence to a stranger because she thinks it’s her only option.
Her only shot at clearing her debts.
“Fuck,” I mutter aloud. “Fuck.”
I stare at the number—the nine grand. Somewhere out there, men are bidding on Willa’s virginity. They’re eyeing up her listing. Scanning her photo. Paying to claim her…
I see red. The computer mouse cracks beneath my hand. Plastic splits. I barely notice. Rage is moving under my skin like a living thing, scorching and savage. I want to find every man who bid on Willa. Strangle them one by one for thinking they could touch her.
A growl rumbles deep in my throat as I click on the bid button, the cracked mouse mercifully still working. A pop-up appears, asking for my details, and I give them, filling out my bank information.
I don’t think.
Don’t hesitate.
Instead, I type a number and hit bid.