Billion Dollar Chance - Linnea May Page 0,15

proudly showed to me when I first stepped into this place. She didn’t seem to care much about my daily routines or whether I’d be a reliable, quiet and clean housemate, but was very keen on sharing her weird crystal obsession with me.

“So, yeah, that’s gonna be my priority for the winter,” she declares. “I don’t mind battling the cold with some layered clothing, but by all means, use as much heat in your bedroom as you can afford.”

The smile on her face is just as stiff as mine. We’re on the brink of an argument. I know Alaina well enough to understand that she doesn’t want to discuss her extremely frugal lifestyle and how much personal suffering—especially freezing—could be avoided if we both put in a little more effort, or money. Money, however, that neither one of us has.

I retreat to my room, taking the hot tea with me. My bedroom is at the far end of the hallway to the left, opposite Alaina’s tiny refuge and the kitchen. It’s the biggest room in the entire apartment, which is why I’m paying more rent than Alaina. But it’s small, too, and only has one narrow window facing north to the main street. It’s as cold as I expected, but I don’t waste time changing that. I switch on the cute little lamp on my nightstand, shaped like a white ball—which is why I lovingly call it ‘the moon’—and then walk over to the thermostat to increase the room temperature.

I may have pushed the button a few more times than needed, but after the day I’ve had, I crave whatever comfort I can get. Once my position at the institute changes from that of an unpaid intern to a full-time employee with an income, benefits and all that other fun stuff, I no longer have to worry about this.

But to make that happen, I’ll have to do something I’ve not been able to do all day long: talk to Gabe. I still have his number and I considered dialing it several times throughout the day, but my fingers never managed to actually push the green button to make the call. Every fiber in my body is screaming in protest at the thought of having to see him again, and—even worse—having to convince him to reconsider his assessment of our work. It’s humiliating, to say the least.

I bet he never has to worry about the temperature in his mansion or wherever he’s living. He probably doesn’t even know what it feels like to be cold, or hungry, or hopeless and panicky. He never has to think twice about every item at the grocery store, calculating down to the penny based on what he actually needs and what’s considered a luxury item.

He doesn’t have to worry about one single screw-up that has the power to destroy his whole career and life. He just sits in his fat ass leather chair in his fancy office behind a ridiculous desk while gleefully ruining the lives of the poor peasants beneath him.

And he probably did not waste a single thought about me over the past couple days. Or about the proposal he so rashly dismissed. He has no idea what his stupid stunt did to me, and he probably doesn’t care.

Well, he will have to care, because I have to do this. I have to talk to him and convince him to change his mind. I can’t let him ruin this for me.

My fingers are trembling as they hover above the display of my phone, circling the green button for what feels like an eternity—before I finally dial his number.

Chapter 9

Gabe

I ignored her call, but I wasn’t strong enough to ignore the voice message she left. It’s not long, just a few words, but with a clear statement: I need to talk to you.

That’s it. No explanation, no apology. Just a demand.

Typical Ella.

I’m sitting in my office, listening to the busy steps and early morning chit chat out in the hall while my eyes are glued to the phone in my hand. As if the answer to all my questions would magically emerge from the depth of the black mirror in front of me.

What does she want from me? Why leave such a cryptic message, only days after we screamed at each other like idiots? Is she playing some sort of game?

I let out a deep sigh and my gaze wanders to the large window to my left. There’s not much to see from up