Cruel Money (Cruel 1)

“I wish I could take it all back.”

“Wish upon a star.” I unclasped the bracelet at my wrist and threw it at his feet.

Then I turned and walked away.

“Natalie, please let me at least drive you.”

I kept walking. “I don’t need any of your help anymore. We’re through. Don’t try to contact me.”

I walked down the driveway that led to the road beyond and to the city beyond that. I walked and kept on walking. And I left Penn and the Upper East Side and all of New York and the in my rearview.

Epilogue

One Year Later

“Can you help me with this painting?” Amy asked.

I glanced up from my computer to see her struggling with some massive piece of artwork for her new show at the gallery. I hopped to my feet and helped her maneuver the thing into place.

“Shouldn’t you use your actual help to do this?”

“Hey, you’re here!”

“Yes, and I’m trying to work.”

“Psh, you don’t need to work!”

“Whatever, Amy. I still have to write another book. The publisher won’t be happy with just one.”

“I think you should just milk it for a while.”

I rolled my eyes at my best friend and went back to my computer where I stared at the blank page that was supposed to be my next book. Not that I’d been having any luck with writing anything.

My phone buzzed noisily and I glanced down at it. “Hey, Ames, it’s Caroline. I’m going to take this.”

“Okay!” she called from behind another painting.

“Hey, Caroline,” I said with a smile as I stepped out of the gallery and onto King Street in Charleston. Home sweet home.

“Natalie, darling. I’m glad I got ahold of you. How are you feeling?”

“Well, you know, fine. Jittery. Worried about the release next week.”

“Everything is going to be fine. I wouldn’t worry about it,” she said in her strong Northern accent. “I spoke to Gillian, and she said the preorder numbers are out of this world.”

As soon as I’d come home from New York, I’d gotten a call from Caroline. I had an offer in from Hartfield for my latest proposal. A big offer. And then another offer came in. And another. And then the book went to auction where all the publishers could bid on it. Thirteen publishers in total.

I’d actually fainted when Caroline came back with the final offer in the seven-figure range. Warren Publishing had won out, and I’d signed on the dotted line for my first book deal with Gillian editing.

It had been a dream and a nightmare.

Because of course, it had to be this book.

The one I’d written while living in that house with Penn for two months.

“So Warren wants to throw you a release party here, in New York. They’re inviting everyone who matters and early readers who adored the book. I have your ticket and hotel situation all lined up. The publisher said they’d handle everything. You’ll get a tour of Warren and a meeting with the higher-ups. I’m sure they’d love to hear what you’re working on next. Nothing official, just an elevator pitch.”

Caroline droned on about the party and my meeting with Warren, and I froze up. A party. In New York.

“Caroline, is there any way that I can…skip New York?”

“Are you kidding? Of course you can’t skip. And they’ve already made the arrangements. It’s important.”

“Okay,” I said softly.

“You can bring your friend Amy, too. We can get her a ticket if it makes you feel better.”

“Yeah, that’d be great actually.”

“Then it’s set. I’ll see you next Tuesday in New York City as the world gets your debut novel, Bet On It.”

Caroline talked for a few more minutes before hanging up. But I was left with a sense of panic. New York. I was finally going back to the place that had broken and remade me. I probably had nothing to worry about.

New York was a big city.

Millions of people lived there.

What were the chances that I would run into anyone that I knew?

TO BE CONTINUED