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
My arm ached as I tightened the blue tie around my neck. The grey suit hung tight in the right spots while I stepped back from the mirror, straightening the jacket. I brushed my hand through my hair, away from my eyes.
"You look like one of those business executives that cheat on their wives when they have to stay later at work," Isabella said from the floor while she ate the red licorice candy she found in the cabinets.
I glanced at her in the mirror, smirking. "That's the point."
She rolled her eyes, smacking her lips. "Bet you wish you had a wife to cheat on."
I froze, thinking about how my dad brought home a stripper the last time I visited New York. His penthouse had expensive decorations missing because of her, but he couldn't do anything about it because that meant admitting to my mom he brought home Mango.
Her yellow wig left behind in the bathroom had caused an argument, but they blamed me. I gave no hard feelings toward my mom, though, given my reputation stacked up evidence against me.
I unfroze from my thoughts, chuckling at Isabella. "I have to want a wife first," I said.
"I agree," she replied, standing from the floor.
She strolled to the dresser, grabbing the perfumes my mom had stacked on the vanity. Isabella sniffed a pink bottle and set it back down. She expressed her disgust before picking a yellow jar and spraying it on her wrists.
"Getting married only ends in two ways," she said, rubbing her wrist to her neck. "Death and divorce."
I spun from the mirror and walked to the bed. My red beanie sat on the sheets with my black winter dress jacket.
"When are you going to go home?" I asked, slipping my jacket over my suit. "Don't you like hanging with kids your age?" I placed the beanie in my back pocket.
Isabella shrugged her shoulders. "Kids at my school are dumber than rocks." She pointed at me. "This girl in my class—"
I waved my hand at her. "I don't care," I said, walking out of my bedroom toward the kitchen.
"You can be a real pain in the ass sometimes." Isabella shoved by me, racing into the living room.
"If you don't like it—"
Isabella clicked on the television, interrupting me. She faced me with a smile as she turned up the volume. The news about the storm blared while she plopped on the couch.
"New storm warning in effect tonight." A red ribbon about the snow floated at the bottom of the screen. The weather reporter pointed at the city on his map. "Coming from the north, we—"
The elevator door opening had my focus away from the news. Robert strolled into the apartment with his hands in his pockets. He glared at me, stomping.
