Series: Cobalt Empire Series by Krista Ritchie
Total pages in book: 234
Estimated words: 226965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1135(@200wpm)___ 908(@250wpm)___ 757(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 226965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1135(@200wpm)___ 908(@250wpm)___ 757(@300wpm)
I rise to my feet first. “You’ve been summoned, Cobalt boy.”
He takes a taxingly long time to pick himself off the floor. He stares at the door, then down at me. I forgot about our height difference while we were on the ground. He is towering. I try not to imagine being scooped up in his arms.
I try not to imagine being held by him. I felt it for point-two-seconds tonight, and I’m worried I’ll want more when everyone already wants so much more out of him. How much can a person like him even really give to someone like me?
“I’ll probably head out,” I tell him. “I’ve got some stuff I need to get to.” Like sleep. Me and my pillow—also friends.
Does he look dejected? Or is that wishful thinking—that maybe he wanted to hang out with me for longer?
“Ben!” his friend calls.
“I’ll find you in the kitchen, Reece!” he shouts back while only looking at me, his gaze rooting me here. It’s one of the hottest sensations that slips into my body, the feeling of being kept and grasped with a single intrusive, caring stare.
Their footsteps pad away.
I intake a short breath and tuck a strand of blonde hair behind my ear. “Catch you later?” I hear my doubt.
A part of me does believe this friendship is an illusion. It’s not that I’ve been met with total misfortune in my life—I’m at a dream college, for fuck’s sake—but it’s still hard to accept beautiful spots inside my reality that I didn’t work for. Having good things fall into my lap…that rarely happens.
Ben likely hears my cynicism too.
Is that why he lingers? Does he wish I believed in him more? My stomach backflips, and I realize how much I want to believe this won’t end here between us.
He glances at his phone. I wonder if he’ll text me or if there’ll be a new wave of tumbleweeds, and then he says so suddenly, so abruptly, “I need a job.”
I’m thrown off.
I nod slowly, seeing he’s messing with me. “Right. I also need a job, but for real. I used to give drumming lessons in Philly to this snarky little prep school kid, and I’m not sure a gig will be as easy to find in New York.”
“I’m for real,” Ben says fast, eyeing the door, then me. As if this is a secret.
I shift my weight in confusion. “But you’re…rich.”
“I’m broke.”
My jaw is on the floor. “Whaa…how? Is that even possible? Don’t you have a trust fund?”
“Our trust funds aren’t limitless. I’ll explain later.” He’s running out of time with me. “But if you find anything worth applying for jobwise, let me know. Maybe we can work together.”
Work together…?
He wants to work with me now? Maybe he’s hit his head. Because no one, and I mean, no one has acted thrilled to spend more than an hour with me. Unless I’m on my knees.
But Ben isn’t asking for a blow job.
He’s asking for friendship. The one thing I’ve never really given out.
“Maybe, yeah,” I say in one trapped breath. I think I would want to work alongside Ben Cobalt. Who wouldn’t?
One question is plaguing me as he goes to the door, adding distance between us, and I call out, “Who knows?”
“Who knows I’m broke?”
“Yeah. Who’d you tell?”
“Just you.”
My brows catapult, and my lips part but only breath comes out.
Just me?
Just me?
JUST ME????
It’s not computing fast enough. It’s not computing at all.
He grips the doorknob but faces me. “No one in my family knows, and I need to keep it that way.”
What the…?
This isn’t just a secret big enough to implode his life. It’s massive enough to spill to tabloids for cash. It could help pay for my housing.
I could turn on Ben in a heartbeat. It’d be so easy to pocket the ammo and payday. There’s nearly nothing stopping me from destroying him.
“You’re unhinged,” I say again. “You barely even know me, but you know enough that I could ruin you out of revenge—I hate your brother and he hates me—or out of desperation. Because you know that I could use the money.”
“Yeah…I’m hoping you keep it a secret.”
“Hope?” My stomach churns hearing that word out loud, and I come closer to him. “That’s what you’re banking this on?”
“I’m banking on you.” He stares down at me from beneath his ballcap. “I’m banking on you, Harriet.” His deep voice is a caress. It’s terrifying how much I want to feel it all over my body. “I might not know you that well yet, but I think your heart is good.”
“You think,” I repeat like he’s lost it. “You’re out of your mind.” I lace my hands on my head before they fall to my neck, my pulse on an ascent. I grip my shoulders like I pulled a muscle. The one class I almost failed was P.E. in ninth grade.