Worth Billions (Worth It 1)

After all, I didn’t have anyone in this town anymore.

I took me almost an hour to lug my shit to Anton’s house. The duffel bag was heavy and it was almost two in the morning. I got lost twice trying to get there in the dark. All the roads looked the same in the dim moonlight of Illinois. I dragged my bag behind me the last two blocks, sweating bullets and sucking air so deeply I was choking on the dirt I kicked up.

When I finally walked into Anton’s house, I fleetingly felt a guilty conscience flare up. The man, my former employer, was dead. I had no business letting myself into his home. I debated on turning around, locking his house like he never did, and finding my way to the nearest hotel. Or, sleeping in one of the abandoned buildings downtown until morning came. But Anton was nothing if not practical. He always held practicality and guarantees above all else. And if I had a guaranteed bed in his home, then what the hell was the point of locking his door and sleeping in an alleyway for the night?

Anton would have welcomed me with open arms and a gentle word, so all I could hope was that his ghost would do the same.

Closing the door behind me, I dropped my bag in the foyer. I was exhausted and upset. I just wanted to sleep, and I didn’t have the energy to take that bag anywhere else. I’d deal with it in the morning. Safely inside, I locked the door behind me and went to the back door, locking it as well.

Then I walked into the room Anton had offered me the last time Andy and I had fought.

I didn’t bother with the lights. All I wanted to do was sleep. I kicked off the flip flops that had worn blisters onto the tops of my feet, and peeled the sweaty shirt off my back. I dropped my panties, tossing them into the trash can. Those were panties Andy had gotten me once. They were gross. Unwashable. Irretrievable. I let the cool air of the house cascade over my naked body before I suddenly felt awkward.

Standing naked in Anton’s house.

Padding back out to my duffel bag, I dragged it into a corner. I rifled through for a clean pair of underwear, then slipped them on. I wondered if Anton’s bills were still coming in. I could use his washer and dryer to wash my clothes, then foot the bill for a month. At least until the last ones came in. I didn’t know exactly how I was going to pay his bills when they were in his name, but I’d find a way. Now content, I sighed and slipped back into the bedroom, Pulling the covers up, the mattress was calling my name. I could feel the comfort and warmth of the bed even before I laid down.

“Holy shit!”

The second I laid down in the bed, I felt another body next to mine. And for a split second while I shrieked my head off, I thought it could’ve been Anton’s. Even though I knew that was irrational and that it couldn’t be him, the thought crossed my mind.

Until the warm body moved.

“Oh my gosh! Stop! No!”

An arm wrapped around my waist and quickly pinned me to the bed. My legs flailed, but another pair much stronger than mine got them to stop. My wrists were encompassed by one very large hand, and I was suddenly staring into the eyes of a complete stranger.

Bright, striking blue eyes.

“Help! Somebody hel—!”

Screaming for help proved useless as his other hand quickly clamped over my mouth. I was wearing nothing but underwear, so I knew how this was going to go down. Who the hell was this person and why was he in Anton’s house? I wiggled and squirmed, trying to free myself. But the hold on my body only got stronger. My eyes widened as he shushed me, then slowly inched his hand away from my face.

I opened my mouth to scream again, but he quickly covered it back up.

“Stop it,” he said.

His voice was rugged and my heart was pounding. I whimpered against his hand and he removed it again before releasing my wrists. I rose up to try and get out of the bed, but he grabbed me again, pinning me back down to the bed as I tried to kick my legs. His eyes grew stern and angry, and every time I tried to move, his grip only tightened.

“What the hell do you want?” I asked.

“Who are you?” the man asked.

“I could ask you the same question.”

“What are you doing breaking into my house?”

“Your house? This is Anton Volk’s house,” I said. “And by the way you’re holding me, I’d say he would probably disapprove of you being here. Now get the fuck off me.”

“Not until you tell me what you’re doing crawling into my bed.”

“Your bed?” I asked.

“Yes, my bed. My room. My house. So, I’ll ask you again before I call the police. What are you doing in this house?”

Chapter 5

Grayson