When a weary college student accidentally summons the ghost of an arrogant billionaire, she hesitantly agrees to help solve his dark disappearance, but discovering the truth entails bidding farewell.
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Ian Cros
I leaned my head on the window, watching the snow float by the buildings. Fog steamed up the glass as I huffed. Paul turned down the street, stopping in the busy traffic.
"They rescheduled the meeting for tomorrow morning," Robert said with his fingers typing on his phone.
I rolled my eyes, leaning into the seat. "Lucky me."
Robert paused and glared at me. "You are one ungrateful little bitch." His hand reached over, grabbing my chin. "Ian, you will be there tomorrow, dead or alive!" he yelled, shoving me away.
I shook my head, leaning against the window again. Paul's eyes met mine in the review mirror, telling me he pitied me but would never say a word. I didn't blame Paul for keeping his silence for all these years. Being afraid of my dad was a given. His power and wealth helped him get away with anything.
My mom hired Paul the summer I turned ten when I became faster than my dad. Under the baggie coat, Paul hid away the muscles and built. Now, with age, he could hold his own but would need a nap afterward.
"Sir," Paul muffled.
I glance up moments before my father, seeing the lines of red lights, busy from the New York City residents. Robert shifted in his seat to put his phone in his dress khakis. He unbuckled his belt, opening the door as the car still moved.
"Stop here," Robert ordered, stepping out as Paul tried to pull over.
When the car stopped completely, the vehicle behind us blared its horn as I opened my door and stepped out.
"Mi dispiace," Paul said in Italian as I translated it slowly in my head.
"I'm sorry," I whispered his words. "It's okay, Paul," I said, shutting the door and knocking on the top of the car.
The car drove off as the one behind kept pace, splashing snow slush onto my legs while I stood in traffic. The following vehicle slowed to a stop, letting me cross in front of them to the pavement.
Robert pulled out a cigarette from his pocket, lighting it before placing it on his thin lips as he paced on the sidewalk in front of our building. He pulled his coat over his head, covering his face as I quickly raced by him.
"Ah, ah," his voice screeched like a demon. "You are not getting out of this so easy."
I pointed up at the building. "Penthouse on floor forty-three, right?"
Robert coughed while his breath clouded around his face. "Correct, but your mother bought the flat on floor thirty-nine, and that will be yours for now." He tossed the cigarette on the pavement, stepping on it.
I rolled my eyes as he walked away, leaving the toxic mouthpiece on the sidewalk for the rats to eat. His hand gripped my upper arm as he dragged me around the building to the front. A man in a suit and European cap opened the door with a warm smile.
