Billionaire Romance Boxed Set (9 Book Bundle) (37 page)

“This better be the right
place,” I said, looking up at the apartments. Almost a week early, I would be
staying by myself until the other students arrived. I didn’t mind solitude, and
actually looked forward to exploring Budapest on my own, but I couldn’t help
feeling a bit scared by the easy manner in which the limo driver had left me
alone in an unfamiliar city. The street seemed dead, eerily quiet, and the top
window of the building had been broken, the glass cracked in a hard, shattered
star.

The wind whipped through my
hoodie, and I slung my bag up over my shoulder, marching quickly up the outside
stairs. The key turned in the lock, and I pushed it open, stepping inside. The
door slammed shut behind me and I felt something scurry under my feet. I
dropped my bag, the keys went scattering across the old wood floor, and I
screamed.

The
small furry creature darted behind the interior stairs, and I gasped as I threw
myself backwards against the closed door behind me, knocking the wind out of my
lungs. The light inside shone dimly, and I couldn
’t see enough to
make out what it was.
Maybe a rat?
I shuddered. Sometimes rats would
invade my Nagy’s house to get at the pantry, and I hated the way their beady
eyes looked knowingly at me as they scurried away with our food. Adrenaline
made my heart pound.

Taking off one boot as a
defensive weapon, I moved farther inside, trying to see underneath the rickety
stairs. My breath still blew white
—the heaters must not have
gotten turned on yet, and it was almost as freezing inside as it had been
outside, except for the chill of the wind. I could see the animal under the
staircase, its ratty gray fur moving with its breaths. I stepped closer to the
staircase, holding my boot above my head, ready to bring it down on the
creature.

“
Meow!
”

I stopped with my boot still in
my hand. A cat? Too small to be a cat. I squinted, and as I was debating what
to do it poked its head out and meowed again at me. I got a good look at
it—just a kitten, and a ragged one at that. It had a light gray coat,
marred in places by burrs and scratches, and its whiskers trembled as it looked
out at me.

I sat back and laughed, all of
the tension running out of my system. A damn kitten! My foot was beginning to
turn numb from the cold, so I shoved my boot back on. I leaned forward, holding
my hand out in goodwill.

“Here, kitty, kitty. Here,
sweetheart.”

The kitten hissed, its fur
standing up on its back.

“Don’t be scared.” I stopped, my
hand hovering in the air. My fingers got colder by the second.

The kitten’s fur relaxed, but it
stepped back, still wary.

“Here, kitty.”

Kitty had white mittens tipping
his gray coat, and a white pointed diamond on his forehead, just between his
ears. It looked like a large white snowflake had landed on the middle of his
head and stuck. One ear, torn and healed over, flicked from the front to the
side. Both of his ears looked too big for his head.

The kitten hissed again,
but this time less assuredly.

For whatever reason, I was
determined to make this animal my friend. He was the first native I had met in
Hungary, and I wanted to make a good impression. I dug through my duffel bag
until I found my sandwich. Peeling off the last piece of salami, I tossed it at
the foot of the staircase. The kitty immediately perked up his ears and widened
his eyes. I couldn’t help but laugh again. He looked like a bat with such giant
kittenish ears, the one ragged ear flicking repeatedly toward the food.

“Come on kitty,” I said. “I
won’t hurt you.” I kissed the air until he came forward from behind the
staircase.

“See,” I said as he sniffed the
salami and began to lick it. “It’s food.”

He knew it was food, too. He sat
down on his thin haunches and began to tear at the salami until it was shredded
by his tiny teeth, clutched between his paws. He ate ravenously.

My smile turned off when I
recognized the cause of the rapidity with which he ate. He was starving.

I knew what that was like. More
children know starvation than you might think, but most of the other children
couldn’t eat because their families were poor. I knew part of that with my
Nagy, once my father abandoned me to her. His wife didn’t want any of her money
going to feed me, and my grandmother found it hard to stay steadily employed
with only her needlework and tailoring.

I had learned to turn off my
appetite when it was needed. When my friends and I had gone on field trips to
amusement parks, I would smile and laugh and watch the other children buy ten
dollar lunches, claiming I had eaten a huge breakfast and then drinking lots of
water. Water would fill my stomach, swell it out so that it looked like a
normal teenage girl, or approximately that. Sometimes people would be kind and
offer me some of their food.

“Here, have some of my fries. I
can’t eat them all.”

Oh, to be so full that you
didn’t want to eat french fries! What that must have felt like! Whenever I had
the opportunity, I
ate
. Who knew when the next time would come? At
buffets, I stuffed myself until I was overfull, and the binging way I ate
ruined any chance at healthiness.

I had rituals with food, and
every food had its own special way of being eaten. Cookies I would dip three at
a time in a glass of milk, so that the third one had almost turned to mush by
the time I got to it. Sandwiches I nibbled around the edges, saving the middle,
uncrusted part, for last. Broccoli I munched the heads off of first, then
sliced the stems into little cubes that I ate with a fork, like peas. Coffee I
would sip even while it was burning hot, just to feel the way it trickled down
my throat to my stomach and warmed me from the inside out.

Chocolate—oh, chocolate. I
would smell the chocolate in my fingers, letting the warmth of my hand melt it
slightly and deliver an intoxicating aroma to my nose. My tongue licked the
side of the chocolate bar, tasting it first before placing it directly on the
middle of my tongue, pressing it to the top of my palate and inhaling again,
savoring the taste for as long as I could before it melted away. God,
chocolate. Both my downfall and my salvation, chocolate could tempt angels to
sin, if sin involved eighty percent or more of cacao.

Before that, though, I knew
hunger for a different reason than poverty. My fake family was rich, but they
starved me of love, and a single word from their lips could shrivel my
appetite, and did.

Now I watched the kitten lick
the taste of the salami from the floor, and I wished I had more to give him.

“I’m sorry, kitty,” I said,
holding out a hand in apology. The kitten, tamed by his desire for food, padded
quickly over to my hand and licked it questioningly. I let my fingers stroke
his tiny head, his ragged ear. My thumb brushed over the snowflake pattern
between his ears. A soft purring filled the space between us.

“You’re a lucky kitty,” I said.
“It’s good luck I found you here.” I looked up at the dimly lit stairs. “Kind
of lonely here, huh?”

The kitten skidded away from me
when I stood up, but he stayed close at my heels as I picked up my bag and
walked through the rooms to explore. It didn’t take long. The upstairs and
downstairs had been built with the same layout, two rooms each, a bathroom, and
a tiny kitchenette between. Each room had six bunk beds in it, two on each
wall. I poked my head into the bathroom. Just a dingy shower, a sink, a toilet.
One bathroom for twelve people? I shuddered.

The air in the rooms was stale
and frigid, and I couldn’t find any kind of thermostat for the radiators. I
considered calling Eliot—I had his number—but he was probably at
his dinner with his brother. I wouldn’t want to interrupt. I tried to turn the
stove on, thinking I might just leave the oven open for warmth. The pilot light
flickered but the flames sputtered dead within a few seconds—gas must be
off. I yawned. It had been a long day, and I just wanted to sleep. Dim
light shone through the window, but I was exhausted from the plane rides.

I returned to the bedroom I had
somewhat claimed as mine—the only one with a small window that you could
look out of from the top bunk. I put on another two layers of shirts, but that
was all that would fit under my tight hoodie. I put on another pair of socks,
and the thin gloves that had protected me through the California winter, and
sweatpants over my normal jeans. My teeth still chattered and my nose ran like
nothing else.

“Meow!
”

“Come here, kitty,” I said,
extending my hand. The kitten just sat in the middle of the doorway, watching
me.

“Fine, then.” I said. I pulled
two blankets off of the beds. I touched the radiator, but it was just lukewarm
with water inside, probably just enough to keep the pipes from freezing. Oh
well, better than nothing. I swaddled myself in blankets and leaned up next to
the tepid radiator, sniffing all the while.

The kitten padded over across
the room curiously. I let one finger slide out from under the blanket and his
ears perked up, his thin, fuzzy tail swishing behind him. He pounced on my hand
and bit my glove harmlessly.

“I’m going to call you Lucky. Is
that okay, Lucky?” I petted him with my free hand, but he continued to gnaw at
my finger, his back paws kicking at my arm playfully.

“Good,” I said. “Then it’s
settled.”

I leaned my head back against
the wall, petting Lucky as my eyelids drooped lower.

“Good kitty,” I said, and then I
was asleep.

I woke
up in darkness, not knowing where I was for a moment. The light from the window
outside had dimmed to nothing, and the bunk beds around me loomed menacingly
like monsters from a bad dream. The air was freezing cold. I blinked, my heart
racing, and then I heard a faint purring from my lap. I looked down. Lucky had
curled up in the crook of my arm and slept soundly, his white paws tucked under
his small gray body.

“Good kitty,” I mumbled, petting
him with one hand. My fingers ached with the cold, and as I stood up carefully
with Lucky in my arms I felt all of my joints cry out with the same chilly
ache. I put Lucky down on the bed and checked my phone, my teeth already
starting to chatter. In the darkness of the room my phone shone brightly, and I
could see puffs of my breath coming out over the small screen.

It was ten o’clock. I didn’t
want to disturb Eliot if I didn’t have to, but at the same time I didn’t want
to get hypothermia on my first day in Hungary. My muscles twitched with cold. I
switched the ceiling light on and squinted in the sudden brightness.

“What should I do, Lucky?” I sat
down on the bed next to him and he stretched his paws out on my lap, kneading
my thigh with his tiny claws. I scratched behind his ears and he wriggled with
happiness, then bit down hard my finger.

“If I have to get another
tetanus shot because of you, I’m never giving you salami again,” I said.

“
Meow?
”

“Okay,” I said. I put down the
phone in my lap and took a deep breath. When I picked it up to dial the number,
my fingers were shaking, whether with cold or nerves I didn’t know. Eliot
picked up on the first ring.

“Hello?”

“Um, Dr. Herceg?”

“Brynn!” His voice sounded so
warm and inviting that at first I couldn’t speak. In the background, I could
hear laughter and the sounds of people eating. I swallowed hard and coughed.

“Um, I’m here. Got in a few
hours ago.”

“Oh, how wonderful! I can’t tell
you how glad I am that you made it.” My heartstrings vibrated with his words.
“How are you? Did you find the apartments alright? I haven’t been over there
yet myself, still at this nonsense dinner.”

“It’s… uh, it’s really cold.”

“Much colder than California,
that’s certain!”

“Um, is there—is there any
way to turn the heater on?”

“Sorry, I can’t hear you. One
second.” The background noises grew quieter and then I heard Eliot again.
“What’s that? The heater?”

“Um, yeah. The heater isn’t on,
and I—”

“
The heater isn’t on
?
Brynn, you must be freezing? Are you still in the apartments?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“My god.” Eliot swore, and I
heard him speak to someone at the party, this time in Hungarian. They talked
back and forth and then Eliot was back on the line.

“Brynn, are you there?”

“Yeah, I’m here.”

“Stay where you are. I’ll be by
as soon as I can.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I’ll be right there, don’t
worry.” He paused, as though about to say something else, but then changed his
mind. “See you soon.”

“See you,” I said. The phone
went dark in my hand.

I patted Lucky on the head.

“Don’t worry,” I said. “We’ll be
okay.”

Lucky purred contentedly.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Eliot threw down his napkin on
the table.

“I have to be off,” he said.

“So soon? The party isn’t even
started yet!” His brother clapped him on the back. “Eliot, I’m throwing this
for your honor. The guest of honor can’t leave halfway through the party!”

“You will have to do without
me,” Eliot said. “This is urgent.”

“Urgent?” His brother leaned
close. “Anything I can help with?”

“No, nothing like that,” Eliot
said. “Just a mix-up with the academy apartments for the interns.” He pulled
his arms hastily through his coat and shrugged it over his shoulders.

“The one arriving today?” his
brother asked.

“Yes.”

“The girl?”

Eliot looked up at his brother
in exasperation. “I’ve told you—”

“And I saw that special look in
your eye when you were talking about her.”

“No special look.”

“Eliot, why not?”

He shook his head.

“Eliot, you deserve to be
happy.”

“She’s a student.”

Otto stood up and pulled his
brother into a warm embrace. “Forget everything else. Really. You deserve to be
happy. Eliot—”

“Yes?”

“Don’t let your head get in the
way of your heart,” Otto said. He smiled and turned away, back to the other
party guests.

Eliot couldn’t get his brother’s
words out of his head, but there was nothing for it. He had promised not to get
too close—he didn’t want to interfere with the internship and all that
went with it. Brynn seemed fragile, and he shied away from reaching out to her.
He didn’t want to break another fragile thing. He pushed his way across the
room, past the guests who were chattering happily and dancing to the music.

Eliot froze as he looked across
the room. One of the women was dancing; he could not see her face, but he knew
by the way the limbs moved that it was Clare, her red hair flashing as she spun
in place. His heart ached as he watched her white skin, her slender arms
twirling.

“Clare,” he whispered.

“Whoops, sorry!” Another guest
bumped into Eliot, almost spilling a drink on him. Eliot helped the man find
his balance, and then turned back to the dance floor. The woman dancing in the
middle of the crowd was not Clare, she was older, she did not look anything
like Clare.

“Sorry about that,” the man
said. “Say, are you alright? You’re Otto’s brother, yes?”

“I have to go,” Eliot said, and
turned to leave. He looked back once more from the entryway, but he could not
find the ghost he had seen dancing.
Stop it, Eliot
, he thought.
Stop
it. She is gone.

Eliot jumped into his car and
drove as quickly as he could stand to until he reached the apartments. Parking
in an empty space on the street, he hopped out of the car and locked it. The
building looked smaller than he remembered it, less well-kept. He took the
stairs two at a time and rapped his knuckles on the door.

She opened the door in front of
him, and it was all he could do not to sweep her into his arms. She looked
miserable, her nose red and runny, her eyes bleary with sleep. There was a
blanket wrapped around her shoulders and she seemed to be bundled up in all
manner of odd clothing. With all this, though, she still beamed when she saw
him, and he felt his heart lunge forward, wanting to take her into his embrace.

“El—Dr. Herceg,” she said.
“You didn’t have to come, really.”

“Of course I did,” he said,
walking past her into the building and taking in the rooms with astonishment.
This was where his interns were expected to live? They had added in so many
beds. The rooms were cramped with furniture.

“This is absurd,” he said. “I
don’t—” He stopped when he saw Brynn shivering under the blanket and
realized that the room was freezing. He hadn’t noticed with the rush of
adrenaline pumping through him, but now that he paused he saw his breath come
out white and steamy in the air. “Brynn, you’re
freezing
!” He tore
off his coat and pulled it around her, forgetting his promise to himself not to
get too close. He simply couldn’t help it. Brynn let her blanket fall to the
ground and put her arms through his coat, wrapping it around her. A fury ran
through him as he rubbed her arms briskly to warm them.

“B-but,” she said, her teeth
still chattering. “You’ll freeze without it.”

“Never mind me,” he said. “That
damned landlady. The heat should have been on, I told her that you were
coming…”

“It’s okay,” she said. “Really,
it’s okay.”

She waited patiently as he
dialed the landlady and paced across the floor. He heard the phone ring on the
other end four, then five times before going to the answering machine. He swore
and hung up. He had no way to get to the heater, no way to make things right…

“Really, Dr. Herceg,” Brynn said
in a small voice. “I’ll be fine. If I can just borrow your coat, maybe, for the
night.”

Eliot’s heart strained when he
looked at her, so quiet and unassuming, so ready to accept whatever came her
way. Something inside of him turned, decided for him.

“Come,” he said, picking up her
bag. “You’ll stay with me tonight. I have an extra room.”

He expected her to protest, but
she just yawned, her pink lips opening wide behind her hand.

“Okay,” she said. “Oh, wait!”
She turned and fled into the other room, his large coat flapping at her knees
behind her. When she came back she had something in her arms. Eliot’s eyes
widened when he saw what she was carrying.

“This is Lucky,” she said,
holding the kitten tightly to her heart. “Can he come along?”