The Billionaire Boyfriend Trap

Chapter 11

"No."

"Why not? I deserve it."

She rolled her eyes. "I take it the money was good."

I just looked at her.

"Very good?" she persisted.

I nodded.

"And you had a lot of bills to pay?"

I could no longer face her. I got up to pour myself a glass of wine.

"Cleo, I'm not an idiot. I know my medical bills must be huge. The money had to come from somewhere to pay them, plus there's art school and keeping food on the table. We've never gone without. You saw to that."

She was suddenly right next to me, plucking the glass out of my hand. I couldn't see her very well through the tears blurring my vision, but her presence was a comfort.

"You've taken good care of me, Cleo. Now I'm going to take care of you, starting with giving you a hug." She pulled me to her and I cried, again. After a while, she steered me to the kitchen stool. "Next, I'm going to pour this wine and cook you something to eat. Then tomorrow, or the next day, whenever you feel up to it, we'll discuss what to do about money."

"I'll get another job," I told her.

"All in good time."

What I didn't tell her was that there was no way I could earn the same amount as just a PA. On top of what Ellen paid, I'd been getting a wage from my targets. No normal job could come close.  

***

Ellen kept trying to call me over the next week, but I ignored her. The following week, she came to the house. I saw her drive up in her red sports scar and unfold those long legs from the driver's seat. I didn't answer the doorbell and since Becky wasn't home, I didn't have to. Ellen went away. She called again every day for the next week and I deleted all her messages without listening to them.

Reece didn't call once.

I no longer cried myself to sleep by week four. My tears seemed to have dried up, leaving a hollow space inside me. I couldn't seem to muster any sort of emotional response to anything. Becky spoke to me, but I hardly heard her. I got up in the morning, bought groceries when we ran out, and went through the motions of showering, dressing and eating. But it was like I was in a fog, sort of there yet not.

I looked at job ads, but applied for none of them. They were either located too far away, didn't pay well enough, or sounded dull. We lived off our savings, but they were dwindling every week. The loan I'd taken out to pay the medical bills ate into the savings like a ferocious beast that needed to be continually fed.

Until the loan suddenly ended. I received a final statement from the bank showing every last cent had been paid in a lump sum. I rang them but they wouldn't tell me who had paid off the loan due to confidentiality reasons.

"But I'm the only one with access to that account," I told the rep over the phone. "I'm the only one who can pay it. Someone has given you an incorrect number and paid my loan off by mistake. You need to give them their money back."

"No, Miss Denny, the amount paid into the account was the exact amount owing. It's too precise to be a mistake."

"Then tell me who paid it?"

"I can't. The information isn't available to me."

"It's weird," I told her. "Very weird."

"If you want my advice, Miss Denny, just accept it and be grateful."