Bidding For Her Curves - Flora Ferrari Page 0,31

I know you’re okay. It’s Florence.”

I can feel my pulse thundering in the silence. My mouth goes dry and my palms start to sweat.

I try to swallow, but I’m worried it’ll be too loud in the silence.

It’s deafening.

Jules stands frozen, facing away from me. She doesn’t bother to turn around when she says it either.

“I think you’d better go, Mason.”

I don’t budge.

The ink isn’t dry, or maybe hasn’t even been applied to the deal I’ve set up to counter my own company’s purchase of this whole neighborhood just yet. But it’s still as good as mine.

Jules is mine.

I won’t have Jules or anyone else telling me to leave until she knows the truth either.

A truth I’ve been trying to keep from her, I admit. But only so it didn’t hurt her feelings.

If I hadn’t gone to that damned soup kitchen I never would have found out, but because I did, there’s all this now.

She turns her head, her eyes red with tears.

“I said you’d better go, Mr. Thorne,” she says coldly, and I feel a pain in my chest that cuts to my very soul.

“I won’t,” I tell her calmly. “Not until you hear me out. Not until I explain-”

“There’s nothing to explain,” she continues, cutting me off. Her voice like ice as she collects herself, motioning towards the door.

“I don’t know what kind of sick game you’re playing, but just forget it. Until yesterday, I thought I had a job and a place to live. I had a shitty boss, but who doesn’t.”

I stare at my shoes, breathing in slowly, trying to count back from ten so I don’t overreact.

“Then you… You what? You buy up a charity, then spend millions at a phony auction you practically own anyway? Is that how rich people shift their money? Is it to avoid taxes, or is it just that millions of dollars are not enough you have to own people as well?” she asks bitterly, making me grimace.

I feel my face bunching up, my chest hurts and I can’t breathe anymore.

What the fuck happened? We were just coming back here to get her some clothes, so she felt was more comfortable. I was gonna spend the rest of the day-

A lot of what she’s saying doesn’t make sense but at the same time…

I can’t blame her for feeling this way.

It’s a bad look and it’s got my name on all over it, even if I am trying to set it right.

Thorne. The name synonymous with takeovers, with getting what he wants… with greed.

I can see it in her eyes now, the same look from all those people at the soup kitchen.

All asking me the same thing: How much is enough, buddy?

Her eyes widen, and her lip trembles. The tears she’s holding back are returning.

“Please,” she stammers, pointing to the door.

I don’t want to upset her any more than I already have, but I’m not leaving.

I go to the door, open it, and stand in the doorway. She turns away from me, but I have to tell her everything.

Everything I know anyway.

As it stands.

“You’re right about Thorne Industries buying up the neighborhood…But I only found out yesterday. It’s why I was so eager to win you at the auction. The soup kitchen is smack dab in the middle of the area marked for purchase.”

She keeps her back to me, her body shaking with tears.

“But Jules. I wanted you before I knew any of that. And when I found out what they’d planned, I made my own plans. To either buy out the company’s plan personally or to fire everyone responsible and take it over myself. I’ve even called a meeting for tomorrow to deal with the situation personally.”

I feel some life returning to me when she turns around.

“You didn’t even know?” she asks me, and I shrug. Shaking my head bitterly.

“No, I didn’t. I didn’t even know the company with my name on it was planning to make thousands of homeless and near-homeless people even more miserable. So I’ve taken steps to remedy that.”

She standing still. Quiet, except for a little sniffle.

“I’m buying them out. Whoever they pitched the investment to. And that auction money is going to be matched, dollar for dollar, like I promised, to fix the neighborhood, to build a bigger and better kitchen and a whole lot more.”

“And me?” she asks. “Where do I really fit in all this?”

In two steps I’ve closed the door behind me and taken her in my arms, pressing her hand against my