Trillion

by Renshaw, Winter

  That and she loves the male lead. She’s had a mad crush on him ever since I took her to see one of his movies several years ago.

  An italic subtitle flashes across the bottom of the screen—produced by Westcott Cinematic Enterprises.

  I roll my eyes. How I never noticed that before is beyond me.

  The man owns software companies, grocery chains, pharmaceutical companies, newspapers, and the largest e-commerce website in the world. Amongst a million other things. Of course he owns a movie production company.

  My sister laughs, and I recall a time not so long ago when that wouldn’t have been possible. I’ll never forget the first time I saw her smile—truly smile—or the first time she was able to brush her own teeth. Or the day we moved her from her expensive motorized wheelchair to one that allowed her more independence because her needs had changed for the better.

  I can say many things about Nolan Ames, nearly all of them unfavorable, but at the end of the day, he was the one who put us in touch with the world-renowned physical therapists and physicians who were able to use cutting-edge stem cell treatments and yet-to-be FDA approved medicinal regimens that completely changed Emmeline’s prognosis and quality of life. And he paid for every last cent along the way … he still does.

  It didn’t come for free though.

  I sold my soul to the devil—though it’s not like I had a choice at the time. And I’m happy for Emmeline, for what she got from the bargain. But he took a piece of me I’ll never get back and left something hollow in its place.

  But I’m older now. Wiser.

  And I’ll be damned before I let another man put a price on me again.

  Thirteen

  Sophie

  Past

  The number of times I’ve lied to my mom I can count on one hand.

  Fresh red roses—two dozen of them—perfume the darkened hotel suite we share tonight. In the corner, my boyfriend, Nolan, uncorks a bottle of wine. The curtains are pulled wide behind him, city lights twinkling like something out of a fairytale.

  Tonight’s the night.

  My mom thinks I’m staying the night at Stacia Hendricks’ house.

  She also doesn’t know I’ve been seeing Nolan every weekend for the past two months—or that I quit my job at the café.

  Three weeks ago, we found out she’s officially in remission, and she’s been slowly gaining back her strength and energy. But there are good days and bad. And when she’s not caring for Emmeline, she’s sleeping or zoned out in front of the TV.

  She’s yet to notice I haven’t come home smelling like French fries and salad dressing—or that the bills that normally pile high on the kitchen table are dwindling one by one as I secretly pay them off.

  I don’t think she’d understand this arrangement we have—nor would she understand how much I want to be with him.

  “For you.” Nolan hands me a stemless glass filled halfway with white wine. “Shall we toast?”

  My stomach flips. We’ve fooled around in his car several times, but we’ve never gotten carried away. He knows I’m a virgin and he knows I want my first time to be special. It’s why he rented this penthouse suite, the highest one in all of Chicago.

  In this moment, I’m not wandering the halls of Stillwell High, backpack slung over one shoulder as I count the hours until the final bell. I’m not worrying about my chemistry test or when I’ll have time to write that essay for College Prep Composition.

  I’m a woman on the verge of something bigger than she ever imagined.

  Nolan taps his glass against mine, his full mouth curving into a smile. “To the best night of our lives.”

  My head whirs with anticipation before my lips so much as touch a drop of alcohol. Am I drunk with lust? With want? I don’t know. Heat burns between my legs. My underwear grows wetter by the second.

  I take a sip, my gaze locked on him. The wine isn’t as sweet as I expected. And it’s not bubbly like the champagne was. Still, it makes me feel grown.

  Gentle and patient, he takes my glass and places it aside, along with his.

  The whites of his eyes shine in the dark and the lights of the city envelop his shadowed figure. When he returns, his hand moves to my hip and he steers me closer, until my body is flush against his.

  Nolan tips my chin until our faces are perfectly angled, and in an instant, his mouth is on mine.

  He takes his time, lifting his hand to cup my cheek as our tongues dance. He devours me soft and slow, savoring every endless second. We exchange the taste of semi-sweet alcohol and the heat of our clothed bodies.

  Stumbling backward, we collapse on the oversized bed, the plush bedding catching our fall. Together we sink, still connected at the lips. He tugs the hem of my skirt to my upper thighs before trailing his fingertips down the inside of my left leg.

  His hardness presses between my legs, through his suit pants, through my wet panties. My legs wrap around his hips. I’m pinned beneath him yet somehow I’m light as a feather. Lifting my hands to his neck, I run my fingers through his silky dark hair as he grinds against me.

  Fire blankets my skin, followed with goose bumps as he abandons my mouth and trails kisses down my neck.

  He makes his way to the tops of my thighs before working his way closer to my sex. Shoving the damp fabric aside, his tongue is warm against my flesh, and I squirm each time he tastes me. My body sinks deeper into the mattress, melting into a puddle with each touch, as I stare at the ceiling above.

  Nolan slides my dress over my head before tossing it aside. A second later, the metallic clink of his belt fills the silent hotel suite.

  I’ve never wanted anything—or anyone—like this in my life.

  His toast plays in my head … to the best night of our lives.

  I can only hope it’s the first of many to come.

  Fourteen

  Trey

  Present

  According to our employee badge location system, Sophie is currently in the fourth floor break room of the north building, which is interesting given the fact that she has no business being in that section of our corporate campus at all …

  She’s literally going out of her way to avoid me.

  Mona delivers my lunch precisely at noon, but instead of devouring it between emails and text messages, I decide to take my organic salad and make a beeline to the north building.

  The walk there is long and time-consuming, and I’m met with a handful of starstruck, gaping stares in every hallway, but I pay them no mind. It’s easy to forget that with tens of thousands of employees, many people will go their entire careers without seeing me. I’m sure to some, I’m a ghost. My presence is felt in every corner of these buildings, but if they’ve never seen me, how can they be certain I exist?

  By the time I make it to the break room, I spot Sophie immediately. With her nose buried in her phone, she mindlessly dabs the corners of her pouty lips with a recycled brown napkin. A tight white sweater hugs her curves, the neckline swooping down just shy of her cleavage, and an oversized pearl necklace circles her delicate neckline.

  Almost as if she senses my stare, her deep blue gaze flicks up, meeting mine from across the expansive space. Within seconds, a hush falls over the room. All eyes are on me.

  “I’m going to need you all to evacuate this break room immediately,” I say to the spectators, though my attention is all hers.

  Sophie begins to rise.

  “Not you,” I say.

  The room empties in warp speed. I close the door behind the last straggler before taking a seat across from her.

  “I’d ask how you found me, but …” She lifts the badge attached to her sweater. When she puts it like that, I can’t help but feel like a creep.

  I shove that thought away. It’s not who I am.

  “You left me hanging Friday,” I say. “Had me worried for a second.”

  Her pink mouth arches and her gaze falls to a poster on the wall behind me. “Yeah, it was a rough night. I fell asleep in th
e middle of our conversation.”

  “Never considered myself the boring type, but I suppose I can’t argue with that evidence.”

  I elicit a flicker of a smile from her, but it vanishes before I have a chance to appreciate its beauty.

  “Listen … about those texts …” Sophie draws in a long, slow breath and sits straighter. “I’d had a little too much wine and I wasn’t myself. I said things I wouldn’t have normally said. Not just to you, but to anyone. I apologize if I came across—”

  “—please don’t apologize,” I cut her off. “I thought you were … charming.”

  Her eyes widen. “Charming? Really?”

  “I’m still waiting on that poetry.” I wink.

  Sophie laughs, tossing her head back. For a moment it feels as if I’ve known her a lifetime, though I can’t pinpoint why.

  “I’m afraid you’ll be waiting forever then.” She lifts a curved shoulder, and her sweater falls just enough to expose a patch of creamy soft skin.

  “Poetry is meant to be shared.”

  “Not my poetry.” She rolls her eyes.

  “You don’t think it’s good?”

  “It’s personal.” She blinks, her tone matter of fact. “For my eyes only.”

  She’s a locked box, this one. And I get the impression she’s swallowed the only key.

  I make a mental note to have Broderick check into her dating history. I want to know her type. I want to see the face of every man who’s had the pleasure of taking this woman behind closed doors and peeling back her tightly-wound layers. I also want to know what they had that I don’t.

  An unexpected flash of jealousy burns through me when I think of her with another man, giving him her unguarded affections.

  “You said you had a rough night Friday,” I say. “Can’t imagine it was the Outlander.”

  Sophie avoids my stare, peering off as if lost in thought.

  “Yes,” is all she gives me.

  “Want to talk about it?” I ask, before adding, “Anything I can do to help?”

  I’m not normally one to lend an ear, but for her, I’ll make an exception.

  Her snowy teeth rake across her bottom lip before she frowns and her silky blonde waves brush the tops of her shoulders as she shakes her head.

  I conjure up an image of the two of us in red carpet photographs. In People magazine engagement spreads. On celebrity gossip websites. In New York Times articles. We’d look incredible together.

  And we’d make the most beautiful babies—not that I’ve ever had to think about this sort of thing.

  “You know, since you signed that NDA, everything discussed between us is strictly confidential,” I say. “You can tell me anything.”

  “Trey …” Her lips part but she hesitates. “I realize I was cordial with you Friday night, but I think I might have given you the wrong impression.” She gathers a breath. “We’re not friends. I’m not going to tell you why I had a bad day. And I’m not going to change my mind about what you asked for just because you’re trying to forge some kind of connection. Also, I need to be honest with you—the fact that you randomly dug up my file and decided I’m the one for you, is—”

  “—that day you defended me,” I don’t let her finish because I know where she’s going, “how did you know those things?”

  “You hear things, you read things …”

  “So you’ve checked into me.”

  “I did my research before I applied to your company,” she says.

  “So you and I are the same. We see something we want and we do our research before going after it.”

  “That’s not the same. At all.”

  “It’s exactly the same.”

  Sophie rises, gathering the papers and napkins left over from her half-finished lunch. “If you don’t mind, I’ve got reports to run.”

  “Actually I do mind. I wasn’t finished with our conversation.”

  She eyes the clock.

  “Your reports can wait,” I add. “Why don’t you take the afternoon and I’ll do the same. I want to show you something.”

  I’ve got three meetings scheduled this afternoon, but I won’t hesitate to reschedule them in exchange for some one-on-one time with her.

  “I don’t want to get in trouble with my supervisor …”

  “Weak excuse.” I huff. “Who’s your supervisor?”

  “Barb Scottsman.”

  “If Barb so much as thinks of reprimanding you, she’ll find herself in the unemployment line first thing tomorrow.”

  “That’s cold.” She huffs as if disgusted. “Is that really how you operate? Like a tyrant child?”

  “Like a ruthless businessman.” The crestfallen expression on her face tells me I’m not doing myself any favors, so I add a more flattering, “I’m nothing if not persistent.”

  “Noted.”

  “Give me the afternoon, Sophie. Spend a few hours with me. If you still don’t see me in a new light, just say so. I’ll never bother you again. We’ll be passing ships in the night, like before.” It’s a risky offer, but I’m confident.

  She’s quiet. Contemplative, perhaps.

  “Your time is valuable, Trey. Maybe even invaluable. I’d hate for you to waste it on me.”

  “I’d hardly call an afternoon with you a waste. Besides, I’ll take my chances.”

  Her ocean eyes light, but her expression remains unreadable. I’ve flattered her. I’m positive.

  “Where would you take me?” she asks, slow and careful.

  “Meet me in thirty minutes outside the west parking garage,” I say. “And you’ll find out.”

  Fifteen

  Sophie

  Past

  “What do you want, Soph?” Nolan pulls me into his arms, our naked bodies wrapped in silky sheets. My body reels, electric from head to toe, still pulsing from not one but two massive orgasms he gifted me with tonight.

  We’ve been doing this every weekend for the past month—coming to this hotel, locking ourselves away in this very room, making love like the world is ending.

  “I don’t know. I was thinking maybe the roasted chicken?” I exhale, staring at the ceiling. “I’d have to look at the room service menu.”

  He laughs. “No, I mean, what do you want out of life?”

  I’m taken aback, silent. He’s never asked me such a meta question before. And it’s not a question I’ve given much consideration to. With Emmeline’s needs and Mom being sick off and on the last five years, I figured maybe I’d attend a local community college part-time, maybe transition to nursing school—though blood has always made me queasy if I’m being honest. I’m good at math, but what would I do with a math degree? I don’t want to teach. High school isn’t the kind of thing I’d want to repeat in any capacity.

  “If you could do anything, be anything …” he continues, “what would that look like?”

  Married to him? I laugh to myself. It’s silly to think that far ahead when we’ve only been together such a short time, but a girl can daydream.

  I nuzzle against the inside of his arm, roll to my side, and place a palm over his smooth, bare chest. “I just want to be happy.”

  His mouth tugs up at the corner. “Can you be more specific?”

  I shrug. “I don’t want to have to worry about anything. Like my mom getting sick again. Or who’ll take care of my sister if something happens to one of us.”

  “Your sister has muscular dystrophy, yes?”

  I nod. I’ve briefed him about it before, never going into too much detail. Most people aren’t familiar with it. There are hundreds of variations, some more severe than others. It’s complex and unique to each person. The details of Emmeline’s condition tend to cause yawns and glazed eyes to anyone who isn’t close to her—which is almost everyone. I tend to give CliffsNotes.

  “I know some people who might be able to help her,” he says.

  “She’s already seen every specialist in the Chicago area. And there’s no cure for MD. We can
only make sure she’s comfortable, able to breathe, that sort of thing.”

  “This person’s an old friend of mine from Princeton. He’s a neurologist. Actually specializes in muscular dystrophy. Runs a medical research center in Michigan … I’ll give him a call first thing tomorrow. See what he says.”

  “I don’t know if our insurance would cover that ... it barely covers everything as it is.” Just yesterday we got a bill from the pharmacy for five hundred dollars. Emmeline’s insurance magically decided that one of her medications was no longer necessary.

  “This wouldn’t cost you a thing. I’d take care of any expenses.”

  “Really?” I sit up. “You would do that for her?”

  He gathers my hand in his and brings it to his lips. “I’d do anything for you, Soph.”

  I want to know why, but for some reason I can’t bring myself to ask. This whole thing is too good to be true to begin with, and I’m afraid if I start questioning things, it’ll all go away.

  I love this bubble we’re in—whatever it is. It’s like I’ve stepped into an alternate reality where all the things that once kept me up at night disappear when we’re together.

  If Nolan Ames is a drug, I’m one-hundred percent addicted.

  Sixteen

  Sophie

  Present

  I can’t say that I’ve ever imagined what it would be like to live in a palace. And now that I’m here, in Westcott’s castle-sized estate just outside the city, I can’t say that I’d likely enjoy it. I inventory my surroundings. This is probably the first—and last—time I’ll set foot inside the world-renowned Westcott mansion.