Of course. Adrian Hawthorne, one of New York's finest and wealthiest heirs, wouldn't choose anything less. The car I rode in when he took me from the auction house was more expensive, with plush leather chairs that melted my bones as I touched them. I'd forgotten about my worries for a minute back then.

Just like I forgot about the conversation we had two days ago, in his dining room, when I told him I could take the bus to school.

"You're free to hate me. You're not free to leave as you please."

And then he'd folded his paper aside and walked out of the room without touching a single bite of his food, as if my mere existence were enough to ruin his appetite.

"Miss–" The man standing by the back door, holding it open, prompted me to enter. I dug my heels into the terraced ground for a hot minute. I could defy him-tell the driver, politely, to take a day off.

I'm sure he'll appreciate it.

I don't think Adrian would, though.

His face flashes through my mind: the stern scowl sitting on his lips, his eyes slightly narrowed, and the air of arrogance he always carried around. I shake my head, wrapping my hands around my body with a shiver as goosebumps rise on my arms. "Eugh."

"Thank you," I mutter as I slide into the backseat, tilting my head as the door closes. I sigh as the air, warm and toasty, wraps around me. It's almost winter, which means another round of double layering, because I don't have enough money for a proper winter jacket.

I wonder what Adrian would say, though.

He's bought me a bunch of practical, sensible clothes, including the pair of designer jeans I have on and the frilly, lacy blouse that had me double-checking if he'd hired a woman to do the shopping.

"You're a woman. Who else would I hire?" His response, when I asked.

I open my eyes when the car pulls away from the building, glancing through the tinted window. Something stirs softly in my chest, and I sigh quietly, pressing my hand to the glass. What would happen if I never came back? After all, the Holloways bought me for a dollar. I'm sure I can find a spare, crumpled note somewhere.

And then where would I go? Back to my deadbeat father, so he can trick me again?

The car pulls up outside the hall for my first lecture and the door opens before I can reach for the handle. The same man from before stands behind it. He clears his throat, sweeping a hand out. "We're here, Miss. Your finance class for 9:00 am."

I push my cheeks out into a forced smile. I hate finance. I only took it because I wanted to find a magic way to stretch out the peanuts I was making from my two jobs so I could pay my rent, get groceries and pay my light bill.

And if I was lucky, the water bill and maybe some clothes from the thrift mall.

"Thank you," I mumble all the same as I get out. I swing my bag over my shoulder, walking toward the entrance. I've only gone a few steps when I hear the brisk footsteps behind me. I stop, glancing over my shoulder.

There's two of them now, dressed in identical black suits with wire pieces attached to their ears. It looks almost comical, like something out of a spy movie.

My brows furrow and my nose scrunches in confusion. "Uhm...what is going on?'

"We're following you, Miss." The one on the right, with an early receding hairline, says. There's absolutely no expression on his face.

I purse my lips as my brows scrunch tighter. "Following me? Why would you do that? It's not like I'm going to run away. I need my college degree more than you think," I add, folding my arms across my chest.

It's my only shot at not wallowing and dying in poverty.

"It's Mr. Hawthorne's rules," he replies. "We're your bodyguards, and he's ordered us to go wherever you go."

Adrian's words float above my head, my ears ringing with his disgustingly arrogant, deep voice. "You'll be assigned two bodyguards and a driver. They'll take you to school and bring you back when you're done with your classes."

He did it. He actually-

"Okay," I take a deep breath with my hands half-raised, fighting to keep my cool. "Here's the truth. If you walk into that hall with me, everyone will know you're my bodyguards. Why?" I prop my hands on my hips. "Because you're too up-tightly dressed to pass off as college students. And then they'll be looking at me the entire time. And I'll hate it, because I don't like attention."

"And..." I take a deep breath, pausing for air as the words rush out of me, "I might get so frustrated that I'll drop out of school."

They say nothing, staring at me like I just finished speaking gibberish. I didn't think they were going to be reasonable anyway. Adrian pays them to do exactly as he says-not listen to a random college student.

"Fine." I throw my hands in the air. "Go ahead. You can sit next to me if you'd like. But if anyone asks me why I have two, scary men around me, I'm going to tell them that your boss bought me at an auction for a dollar." I raise my voice at the end, subtly glancing around to see if anyone overheard.

Nobody.

I tilt my chin, taking a step forward. "Let's see how he likes it when his reputation turns to shit because of you."

I hurry into a class full of over fifty students, keeping my head down as I find my way toward the back. There's an empty row behind a boy with a colorful vape and I slide into it noiselessly.

A relieved yet exasperated sigh slips out. It took five minutes of silent stand-off, but they finally agreed to wait in the car until I was done. Or hang around, I don't know. I told them to make themselves scarce.

I slap my bag down on the desk, reaching into it for my notebook, when something buzzes. I stop, glancing around to find the source of the sound. It buzzes again...from inside my bag.

My fingers slip in and I feel something. A phone.

A phone? I lost mine somewhere between trusting my stepfather and getting auctioned off. What is a phone doing in my bag?

My eyes widen slowly as I take it out. It's the latest iphone, with a black solid case. I flip it, and the screen comes on. There's two messages, from a number saved as, "Do not ignore."

I swipe open.

"You shouldn't threaten your bodyguards, Miss Wilson."

I read the second message.

"Unless you're willing to follow up on it. And I assure you, I do know how to take care of my business. Which...if I might jog your memory, includes you."

Freaking Adrian Hawthorne. I roll my eyes hard as my fist clenches, staring daggers at the screen. Then I turn it off and lean over, tapping the guy in front of me. He looks back.

"Here." I stretch my hand out, giving the phone out to him. "It's worth over two thousand bucks and it's new. I'm sure you can sell it to get another vape when that one finishes."

He collects it without a word, flashing a smile with a missing tooth.

My mouth tips with a satisfied grin, and I dust my hands as I lean back into the chair. Take that, Adrian Hawthorne.

Chapter 7 Seven

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