Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 111537 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 558(@200wpm)___ 446(@250wpm)___ 372(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111537 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 558(@200wpm)___ 446(@250wpm)___ 372(@300wpm)
“Upstairs,” he says, flashing a charming smile.
In another life, I might have been attracted to him. He definitely checks all the boxes: rich, good-looking, friendly. But I can’t shake the dread that’s nipping at my heels. There’s something wrong with this whole setup, and I know exactly what it is. Frankie’s father isn’t a banker. He’s involved in something illegal, and while I can’t even guess at the specifics, I know enough to be uneasy.
I follow my pupil up a winding staircase that looks like something out of Gone With the Wind. The stairs look clean enough to eat off of, and the banister shines so that it reflects the light from a massive crystal chandelier.
There’s nobody else in the house, or so it seems. Whoever is taking care of the place has got their act down pat. They must work night and day, but stay as invisible as possible. I wish I could corner one of the maids and maybe get some straight answers. But obviously, that isn’t going to happen.
At the top of the staircase, a massive hallway stretches out in two directions. Frankie takes me to the right, and we pass a bunch of solid walnut doors. I don’t know anything about how expensive wood is, but I can tell just by looking at the delicately carved frames I could eat for a year if I sold just one.
Frankie picks a door halfway down the hall and pushes it open. I notice there’s no lock from the outside, which is good. I’m deep in enemy territory, and the fewer locks between me and the exit, the better.
“Stop,” I whisper to myself. I’m freaking out without good reason. I don’t know that Frankie’s father is mobbed up. He could just be a titan of industry, maybe a CEO or a tech innovator. That’s probably it. I’m getting all worked up for nothing. I need to focus on my job and earn my rent money.
“What?” Frankie asks, turning on the lights.
“Nothing,” I mumble.
We’re not in a study. It’s more like a living room. There’s a couch, a television, and a mini fridge that’s probably stocked with beer. Two doors lead off in different directions, and Frankie picks the closest. When he opens that door, I see a more traditional office. A large mahogany desk sits in the center of the space, complete with a laptop and a printer. There is a floor lamp in one corner and another lamp on the desk. Instead of landscapes on the walls, there are movie posters. It feels like the den of a frat-boy/heir to daddy’s fortune, which I suppose is pretty accurate.
I take a seat opposite the desk, pulling up a fancy chair. Frankie walks back into the living room.
“Do you want a soda?” he calls out.
“Sure,” I agree.
He comes back with two sparkling waters instead of soda and sets one down in front of me. I give him a grateful smile and uncap mine. It tastes wonderful, the fizzy raspberry flavor washing away some of my anxiety.
“So, can I look at your books?” I ask.
“Books?” he parrots, looking at me as if he doesn’t understand the word.
“Yeah,” I insist. “Case law, course books. What are you working on?”
“Oh,” he says, sitting down and firing up his laptop. “We don’t have books. We all got a subscription to this online database and a course module.”
“Great,” I say.
“How old are you?” he asks.
I give him an incredulous stare. “You’re not supposed to ask a woman that.”
“Yeah, but when did you go to law school?” he continues, clearly trying to deduce my age by my résumé.
“I didn’t go to law school,” I corrected him. “I took the LSATs, but I never enrolled.”
“Oh,” he says, leaning back in his seat.
“Is that going to be a problem?” I ask, hoping that’s not the case. Despite all my reservations about the house and his family, I need the money.
“No,” he says quickly. “Let’s just see how it goes.”
“I got a good score,” I tell him.
“I can use all the help I can get,” Frankie responds. “It’s just that my dad is giving me a hard time.”
“He’s pretty demanding?” I guess.
“You can say that again,” Frankie agrees. “So, they don’t really do books anymore. I can give you my login information if you want to go over the course material at home.”
“That would be great,” I say, relieved.
“But I’ve got an assignment due this evening, and it would really help if we could go through it together,” he continues.
“I’m all yours,” I say, scooting my chair closer so I can see his screen.
He looks at me with one eyebrow raised, as if I’ve said something sexy. I shake my head. He’s not a bad prospect, but this is all business. I promised to help him with the coursework, and that’s exactly what I plan to do. I don’t have time for a fuck buddy, and I’m too much of a wreck emotionally to even consider seeing someone now. I’ve got a whole lifetime of crap to sort out relating to my dad’s death. I wouldn’t be any good to anyone.