Caught Placing Flyers On His Rolls

I was caught red-handed by the owner of a Rolls-Royce in the parking lot while trying to slip him flyers.

What's even more embarrassing is that the owner turned out to be my ex-boyfriend from five years ago, the one I dumped because he was poor.

What's that saying again?

It's not that I'm afraid of exes being awful, it's that I'm afraid of exes who are successful!

My ex smiled and said, "Now that I'm rich, you have no reason to dump me again, right?"

The rain was a fine, freezing mist, slicking the pavement of the private parking garage. I shoved another flyer under the windshield wiper of the idling Rolls-Royce Phantom, tugging the hood of my cheap plastic poncho down to shield my face. Even the bodyguard holding an umbrella near the drivers door was wearing a suit that cost more than my lifes net worth.

I awkwardly shifted the canvas bag full of flyers behind my back, calculating the exact angle required to snatch the neon paper back and vanish into the concrete labyrinth without being noticed.

But I was too slow. A hand, pale and elegant, reached out from the cracked window and slid the flyer out from under the wiper blade.

"Lonely? Need a listener? Voice companionship, ten dollars for thirty minutes."

A short, derisive scoff cut through the damp air. "Harper. Is this really what youve been reduced to?"

Oh, God.

I wanted to know the answer to that question myself.

Harper, the brilliant overachiever in college. Harper, the cold, pragmatic realist who dumped her dirt-poor boyfriend without a second thought to throw herself into the arms of a trust-fund heir. By all accounts, my future was supposed to be bright and lined with silk. How the hell had I ended up at the bottom of the barrel?

And as if my spectacular failure wasn't tragic enough, why did the ex-boyfriend I ruthlessly discarded have to suddenly be filthy rich?

I kept my chin tucked to my chest, my voice muffled by the plastic collar of my poncho. "Sorry, man. Youve got the wrong girl."

I spun on my heel to bolt, but a long arm shot out, blocking my path.

The black umbrella didn't quite cover his outstretched arm. I watched the freezing rain bloom into tiny, dark flowers against the fabric of his sleeve, disappearing instantly into the expensive, non-waterproof wool.

Then, Coles voice drifted over, cool and detached. "Harper. Ill pay ten times that. Im buying an hour."

Look at this. A plot straight out of a trashy soap opera. The destitute boy, ruthlessly abandoned in his youth, returns as a billionaire, eager to use his newfound wealth to humiliate the wicked woman who broke his heart.

"Not for sale," I muttered. I might be desperate for cash, but I wasn't an idiot.

"Are you sure?" Coles tone was dangerously slow. "This is a private garage. The fine for soliciting and distributing flyers is five hundred dollars. Do you want me to call security?"

My neck stayed rigidly locked, staring at the concrete until I thought my cervical spine might snap. "Your time starts now. You have fifty-nine minutes."

Cole gave a microscopic nod to his bodyguard. The heavy door swung open. "Get in."

I climbed into Coles car.

Years ago, I had been the girl who callously declared, I'd rather cry in a Porsche than be happy on the bus. Now, thanks to peddling cheap flyers, I was sitting in a car that made a Porsche look like a toy. But the owner of this car was the ex-boyfriend who hated me down to his marrow.

The social mortification was a physical weight on my chest.

How was he going to tear me apart? Would he call me a gold digger? Tell me I got exactly what I deserved?

As my mind spun, vividly imagining Cole stepping all over my remaining dignity, my nose tickled. I couldn't stop it. A violent sneeze ripped through me.

A thick, blindingly white towel immediately hit me square in the face.

"Dry yourself off. Don't ruin my leather."

Fierce.

I rubbed the dampness from my face and hair, noticing that the heat was already blasting. The biting cold of the garage melted away.

He leaned back in the seat next to me, eyes closed, silent. For a long stretch, I wondered if he had actually fallen asleep.

I glanced at my cheap wristwatch. He had the perfect opportunity to stand on the moral high ground and verbally eviscerate his heartless ex, and he was sleeping through it? His brain must be short-circuiting.

I decided to quietly excuse myself.

But the moment my weight shifted to rise, the man beside me opened his eyes. His voice was colder than the rain outside. "You have thirty-five minutes left."

Jumpscare.

He wasn't asleep. I sank back into the plush leather, unable to hold back anymore. "Cole, what exactly do you want from me?"

If he wanted revenge, couldn't he just make it quick?

He didn't even bother to fully raise his eyelids. "Just shut up."

I snapped my mouth shut, but my eyes betrayed me, drifting over to his face.

The boyish softness was gone, replaced by sharp, unforgiving angles. His skin was paler, the chest beneath his tailored shirt looked solid and tense, and I swear his legs were inches longer than I remembered.

Damn it.

How was this bastard still so gorgeous?

"Harper." The man with his eyes closed suddenly spoke, the tips of his ears flushing a suspicious shade of pink. "Turn your head around."

I whipped my gaze toward the window. "How do you know Im looking at you?"

"Because your hot breath is blasting directly onto my forehead. Obviously."

I swallowed hard. "Sorry."

A few minutes later, the car rolled to a smooth stop. The window hummed down. Cole, who had been perfectly still, suddenly sat up straight, pointing a long finger at a bustling, high-end retail street outside.

"See that? My commercial real estate."

He waved his hand. The car glided forward, stopping a few blocks later outside a towering, ultra-luxury residential high-rise.

"The development I built."

Down into another subterranean garage.

"My car collection."

Finally, we drove out to the edge of the city, stopping near a sprawling, meticulously kept orchard in the valley.

"My hundred-acre cherry orchard." Cole arched an eyebrow, his voice dripping with venomous satisfaction. "I can juice them, I can dry them, or I can let them rot on the branches. I do whatever I want with them."

I stared at the endless rows of trees. "Why are you showing me this?"

"Pure spite," Cole answered, clean and sharp. "When you dumped me for Brooks, I thought you were at least stepping up in the world. Looks like I overestimated you."

"I doubt you ever imagined the broke kid you couldn't stand the sight of would be sitting where I am today." His dark eyes locked onto mine. "Harper, this is your karma."

Dammit.

He really nailed the delivery.

When he finally let me out near my neighborhood, I furiously plucked two massive handfuls of cherries from the branches near the gate and stuffed them into my coat pockets, just to feel a shred of vindication.

I finished handing out the rest of my flyers and trudged back to my apartment building, only to freeze. Smeared across the brick exterior in glaring red spray paint was a single word: CONDEMNED.

Eviction.

I slapped a hand over my mouth. Tears, hot and heavy, spilled over my lashes, my shoulders shaking as a sob trapped itself in my throat.

My landlord, a burly guy in a stained undershirt, clapped a heavy hand on my shoulder. "What the hell are you crying for? Its my building getting torn down. Pack your crap and get out. And when are you paying the three months of rent you owe me?"

I wiped my face, sniffing aggressively. "Look, since Ive rented this place for so long, don't I technically get a cut of the developer's buyout money?"

He smiled.

He told me to go to hell.

Beautiful, poetic English.

Thirty minutes later, because I was flat broke and refusing to leave, my landlord dragged me to the local police precinct.

Thirty minutes after that, Cole walked into the exact same precinct to file a report because my cheap paper flyer had jammed the window motor of his Rolls-Royce.

Cole and I stared at each other from across the fluorescent-lit room.

Even the desk sergeant looked confused.

"Harper," Cole said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You didn't need to go to these extremes just to try and get me back."

Good God. Kill me now.

It was literally my first day handing out flyers! I didn't know the paper was that thick!

Cole bailed me out anyway. And, for some inexplicable reason, he paid off my back rent.

"Youre going to be in debt either way. Might as well be in debt to me," he said.

The city neon blurred into streaks of light outside the passenger window. The scent of cedarwoodso familiar, so maddeningfilled the enclosed space. His voice was buried in the dark, stripped of any readable emotion.

"Ill pay you back."

"Pay me back?" He tilted his head, his gaze sweeping over me in the dim light. "How?"

I immediately crossed my arms over my chest, suddenly hyper-aware of my surroundings. I might be desperately poor, but I had boundaries!

He let out a dry, disgusted laugh and turned his eyes back to the road. "In your dreams."

"The window repair, the rentevery single cent goes on your tab."

Right. Of course. With his current net worth and that face, he could have any woman in the city. There was absolutely no reason for him to pick up the trash he threw away five years ago.

When we pulled up to the curb outside my condemned building, I quietly thanked him for the ride.

He held out a hand, palm up. "Uber fare for this distance is thirty-two bucks."

I stared at him, aghast.

"Did you think your 'thank you' was legal tender?"

His face was stone. When he saw my freezing, trembling hands fail to produce even a few quarters from my pockets, he waved me off. "Forget it. Add it to the tab."

He rattled off a string of ten digits. "My number. You transfer the installment on the first of every month, and you send me a screenshot."

I nodded.

"Did you memorize it?"

I nodded again.

It was the same number he had in college. I knew it by heart.

The tension in his jaw seemed to soften for a fraction of a second before the window rolled up, severing us.

I watched his taillights disappear into the mist before turning toward the stairwell.

Just then, something massive hurled out of a second-story window. It hit the overgrown bushes with a sickening thud.

I ran over. It was my duffel bag.

My landlord leaned out the window above. "Your rents paid, my buildings getting leveled. Were square. Get out tonight."

Before I could speak, a cascade of my meager belongings rained down on me, scattering across the wet grass.

"Hey! At least let me come up and pack properly!" I yelled into the dark.

"Yeah right, so you can squat in the bathroom? I changed the locks! Don't make me call the cops again!"

The window slammed shut. The blinds snapped down, and the lights clicked off.

I was left standing in the mud, picking up the pieces of my life.

There wasn't much. A few worn-out clothes, some cheap toiletries, and a photograph from years agoCole and me. Faded t-shirts, bright, unburdened smiles.

My hands shaking from the cold, I quickly slid the photo behind a picture of just myself, hiding it inside a wooden frame with cracked glass.

Once everything was shoved back into the bag, I sat down on the concrete steps of the open-air stairwell. The streetlights flickered with an ugly yellow glow. I could barely make out a few stars through the overcast sky.

I tried to hype myself up, making mental plans of where I could sleep, what I could do. But the bone-deep exhaustion pulled me under, and I fell asleep sitting against the brick wall.

The next morning, the world came into focus as two incredibly long legs in tailored trousers planted themselves in front of me. I blinked through the haze and mumbled, "Cole?"

"Yeah."

The adrenaline spiked, and I shot up straight.

It wasn't a dream.

"What are you doing here?"

"You didn't add me on iMessage," he said, staring down at me. His eyes were pitch-black and unreadable. "Reason?"

"Oh." My brain was running on a delay. "My phone died. Sorry. On the first of the month, Ill send the money, I promise."

He ignored the apology, his gaze drifting from my shivering frame to the bulging duffel bag beside me. "Whats this?"

"Ah." I rolled my deadened shoulder. "Im moving."

His lips pressed into a harsh, thin line. His brows snapped together, and it took him a long moment to force out the words.

"Running away?"

"What? No." I shook my head frantically. "Im just moving."

"Where?"

"I haven't figured that out yet."

"So, youre running. Wheres Brooks? Is he just leaving you out on the street?"

"We broke up a long time ago."

Cole stared at me, his eyes heavy and dark. Without another word, he reached down, grabbed the strap of my duffel bag, and started walking toward his car.

"Cole!" I scrambled after him, my legs numb and uncooperative. "My stuff is garbage! Its not worth anything, it won't cover my debt!"

He didn't answer.

"I swear on my life Ill pay you back!"

But my short legs were no match for his stride. By the time I reached the curb, my bag was already in the trunk of the Rolls-Royce.

"Look, man, thats everything I own in the world. Please don't throw it away." I stood by the door, hobbling slightly, pressing my palms together in prayer.

He popped the passenger door open. "Get in."

Huh?

He looked at me over the roof of the car. "If you want your stuff, get in."

I numbly climbed into the leather seat. He didn't speak to me for the entire drive, not until we pulled through the gates of an aggressively modern, stunningly expensive piece of architecture.

"Where are we?"

"My house." His voice was his usual brand of cold detachment. "Harper, your moral compass is practically nonexistent. I don't trust you. To make sure my money doesn't vanish into thin air, youre staying where I can keep an eye on you until the debt is paid."

What?

"Live here?"

"Rent is two grand a month. Added to your tab."

"No, stop, I can't afford that!" I lunged for my duffel bag in his hand. My crappy apartment had been eight hundred dollars!

He lifted the bag effortlessly out of my reach. "If you agree to do some light housekeeping, we might be able to negotiate."

"But"

"If you cook, we can knock off a little more."

"Look, I"

"If you feed the cat and walk the dog, I might even end up owing you money."

I stared at him.

"Deal."

By some cosmic joke, I was living with my ex-boyfriend.

Five years ago, he was penniless, and I kicked him to the curb. Five years later, he was drowning in money, and I was his indentured servant.

Life comes at you fast.

Cole showed me to my room. It was sprawling, flooded with natural light. Central heating, an en-suite bathroom, endless hot water. No roaches, no fear of rats chewing through my bags in the middle of the night.

"The sheets and duvet are brand new," Cole said, dropping my bag on the floor. His phone buzzed. He took the call, speaking in low, rapid business jargon for a few minutes before hanging up and looking at me. "I have to head to the office."

I nodded, watching him walk toward the door.

At the entryway, he programmed my fingerprint into the smart lock. "Ill be back for dinner around seven." He paused, his hand on the handle. "You can clear your schedule for that, right?"

I nodded again.

Once he was gone, I unpacked my few things and immediately opened my gig-economy apps. I picked up a promo shift at a nearby grocery store handing out milk samples. The pay was daily.

I spent eight hours in a suffocatingly hot, plush cow costume. By the time I stripped it off, I was dizzy and on the verge of a heatstroke.

But I had a crisp hundred-dollar bill. I bought groceries on the way back, took a scalding shower, and got to work in his massive, stainless-steel kitchen.

Just as the chicken soup started to simmer, the electronic chime of the front door echoed through the house.

I glanced at the clock on the stove. It wasn't even close to seven. Assuming Cole was home early, I popped my head around the corner to say hi.

Instead, I froze. There was a woman slipping off her heels in the foyer.

Jesus. Cole hadn't mentioned he was having company.

As she straightened up, the blood drained from my face. It wasn't just any woman. It was Vanessa.

Beautiful, polished Vanessa. The girl from our university who had thrown herself at Cole relentlessly, even when she knew perfectly well that he and I were together.

She jumped when she saw me, her perfectly manicured hand flying to her chest. As her eyes adjusted and recognition set in, her expression morphed into pure, unadulterated disgust.

"Harper?"

I forced a polite, dead-eyed smile. "Hi, Vanessa."

She looked me up and down, taking in my wet hair and oversized t-shirt. Her brow furrowed into a tight knot. "What the hell are you doing here?"

The tone was venomous. As far as she was concerned, I was a rat in her kitchen.

"I owe Cole some money, so Im staying here temporarily to pay off the debt." I figured if she had the passcode to his house, they were deeply involved. I needed to de-escalate immediately.

"Owe Cole money?" She repeated the words slowly, then let out a sharp, mocking laugh. "You? The girl who practically tripped over herself to leave him for Brooks because Coles wallet wasn't thick enough?"

She stepped closer, her eyes narrowing. "Let me guess. You saw he made it big, got jealous, and now youre trying to claw your way back into his bed?"

I kept my face perfectly blank. "No."

"No? Its been five years. Why on earth would you suddenly owe him money? Did you track him down, cry about how pathetic your life is, and use this little 'debt' scheme to squat in his house?" She scoffed. "God, you are so repulsive."

I took a slow breath. "This is between Cole and me. If you have an issue with it, take it up with him."

I turned on my heel to walk back to the stove. The soup was going to boil over.

Before I could take three steps, a freezing wall of water slammed into the back of my head, soaking my shirt and dripping down my spine.

"Have some dignity, Harper!" Vanessa screamed, holding an empty crystal vase. "Cole hates you. He told me he despises traitors, and he will never forgive what you did. The only reason hes letting you stay here is to watch you humiliate yourself. He wants to see the pathetic little gold-digger grovel. Do you really want to stay here and play the clown?"

She dropped the vase onto a rug with a muffled thud. "If I were you, Id crawl back into whatever hole you came out of so you stop making the rest of us sick!"

The cold water dripped steadily off my nose and chin. I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand, calmly picked up a half-full glass of water from the island, and chucked the contents directly into her face.

Vanessa shrieked, stumbling backward in pure shock. She clearly hadn't expected the rat to bite back.

She cursed violently, frantically wiping at her face. In her panic, one of her false eyelashes peeled off, hanging precariously from her eyelid.

My eyes were dead. "Like I said, this is between me and him. I don't owe you an explanation."

"Fine! You want to play it like that?" Furious, she ripped open her designer purse and pulled out a platinum credit card, hurling it at my chest. "You owe him? This has ten grand on it. Is that enough? Ill pay him for you!"

When I didn't react, she started pulling out card after card, snapping them at me like throwing stars. One clipped my cheekbone.

"I don't care what sick game youre playing, Harper. You walked away five years ago. Do not come back and try to ruin us!" Her voice was shrill, echoing off the high ceilings. "He is my boyfriend!"

Boyfriend.

The word stung, just a little.

It had been five years. I didn't expect him to live like a monk. But if he had a girlfriend, what the hell was he doing locking me in his house just to set me up for this kind of humiliation?

"Harper, I brought the Rainier cherries you like. Try not to embarrass yourself."

The front door clicked shut.

The orchestrator of this little domestic nightmare had arrived. Cole walked in, slipping his shoes off, looking perfectly at ease with a brown paper bag in his hands. He looked up, finally taking in the scene: Vanessa and me, both dripping wet, standing in the middle of his living room like drowned rats.

His brows snapped together. He dropped the bag on the console and crossed the room in three long strides.

"Cole," Vanessa started, her voice suddenly trembling and fragile, a masterclass in playing the victim.

Cole didn't even look at her. He bypassed her completely, coming straight to me. His large hands came up, framing my face, his thumbs brushing over my wet cheeks, his eyes scanning every inch of my features.

His voice was tight, laced with an urgency I hadn't heard in years. "What happened to your face? Why are you soaking wet?"

I pushed his hands away. My spine was rigid, my smile perfectly polite and entirely hollow. "Theres chicken soup on the stove. You and your girlfriend enjoy it. Consider it interest on the loan. No need to thank me."

I turned, walked into my bedroom, grabbed my duffel bag, and marched straight out the front door.

I ran until my lungs burned.

The early spring wind cut through my wet clothes like glass. The streetlamps flickered overhead, blurring together into streaks of yellow.

Crap.

I had been running blind. I stopped, spinning around on the empty pavement. I had no idea where I was.

Panic flared in my chest for a second before a voice drifted through the dark.

"Lost?"

I whipped around. Cole was standing at the end of the block, wearing a heavy camel-hair coat. The tips of his ears were red from the cold.

Before I could run again, he closed the distance between us, shrugging off his heavy coat and aggressively wrapping it around me, swaddling me like a burrito. Then, he lifted a hand and flicked me hard on the forehead.

"I knew it. Harper, your character is fundamentally flawed. Youre entirely untrustworthy. Trying to skip town before the debt is paid."

He flicked me again for good measure. "Little liar."

I rubbed my forehead, furious but genuinely shocked that he had run after me instead of comforting his girlfriend. Was he really that desperate for my two thousand dollars?

Cole sighed, crouching down in front of me. He unlaced his impeccably polished leather oxfords and placed them by my feet. "Not only do you try to skip out on a debt, you try to steal my slippers while doing it."

I looked down. I was wearing his oversized, open-toed house slides. My ten toes were bright cherry-red from the freezing asphalt.

Honestly, the adrenaline had been pumping so hard I hadn't even realized I left the house in them.

"Lets go." When I didn't move, he literally picked up my foot and shoved it into his massive, warm leather shoe.

He stood up, looking down at me. "Pay your debts. Come home for dinner."

I stared at his feet, now shoved into the flimsy house slides. It was objectively ridiculous, but I couldn't find it in me to laugh.

"Cole, your girlfriend said shed pay off my debt."

"Girlfriend? Who? Vanessa?" He let out a dark, mocking laugh. "Shes not."

He paused, looking away. "Ive been single."

What?

Cole? Single? With that face, that body, and that bank account?

Cole reached out and gently pushed my jaw up, closing my gaping mouth. "If I wasn't single, do you think Id be insane enough to move you into my house? Am I suicidal?"

His thumb brushed my cheekbone again, lingering this time. "And for the record, if someone throws something at your face, throw something back. Don't just stand there and take it. Are you stupid?"

He reached into his pocket, pulled out a massive, flawless cherry, and popped it past my lips like he was pacifying a toddler. "Its sweet. Eat it and you won't hurt as much."

I chewed stubbornly, my voice muffled. "I didn't throw anything at her face. I threw water at her."

I thought Id see a flash of pity for Vanessa in his eyes, something to prove he was lying. But there was none. If anything, he looked profoundly satisfied.

"Good. If Im not around, I can't have people bullying you."

He grabbed my duffel bag and started walking.

I had no choice but to follow, shuffling clumsily in his massive shoes. "But she had the code to your house. Girls don't just walk into guys' houses."

"Thats because my passcode is incredibly stupid."

"What is it? 1-1-1-1-1-1?"

"No." Cole looked back at me over his shoulder. In the dim light, his dark eyes lost that icy, untouchable edge. "My childhood pigs birthday."

Excuse me? He raised pigs?

"She still called herself your girlfriend!"

"A lot of people call themselves that. Doesn't change the fact that Im still" He trailed off, the words dying in his throat.

We walked in silence for a long time before he finally spoke again.

"Harper, you just have terrible taste."

I didn't know how to respond.