Page 21 of Forbidden Hearts

“No catch,” he says. A slight grin appears on his face, but it’s not like Jacob’s devious grin. “Buy yourself something nice. You earned it.”

He releases my grip and walks out the door. As soon as the door closes, I grab the leather bag he left on the chair and tuck it into my locker before anybody else enters the room.

I don’t know how much money is in the bag, but there’s no way in hell I’m telling Jacob about it.

Chapter 10

Alex

I’m in bed, staring at the white popcorn ceiling of my bedroom and thinking about the night I just had.

Even though I first saw Alonzo at Jacob’s club, it never occurred to me that he might return someday, much less on a day when I would be working.

I wonder what ruse Jacob used to get him to The Den. For some reason, he’s still very secretive about their meetings.

I close my eyes, and my mind travels to a few hours ago. Goosebumps move down my neck as I remember how Alonzo looked at me when I was on the stage, and then later when I gave him a private dance. I can still feel his warm arms around my body and his deliciously intoxicating smell.

Flutters pool in my lower stomach. I squirm in bed, tightening my legs.

With a deep sigh, I open my eyes and look at the stacks of money on the bed next to me. I grab a stack and fan the bills above me.

Before leaving the club, I tucked the leather bag into my purse so Jacob wouldn’t question me. When I got in my car, Ithrew my purse under my seat just in case. I kept thinking about the money the whole drive back to my apartment. I didn’t know how much money was in the bag, but it was heavy and stuffed to the brim.

As soon as I walked into the safety of my apartment and knew nobody was watching, I dumped the money on my bed and counted it. It was fifty grand, more money than I had seen in my entire life. It didn’t feel real when I first counted it, and it still doesn’t feel real now.

I inspected a hundred-dollar bill to make sure it was real. Honestly, I don’t know a thing about telling real money from fake money, but the bill looks real. I compared it to a dollar bill I got as a tip earlier in the night, and the material on both bills looks and feels the same.

The money is proof that Jacob is right. Alonzo is rich and is sitting on a mountain of cash somewhere nearby. If I can get some of that money, my mom and I will be set for life.

But is the risk worth it? Normal people don’t have this large amount of cash on hand. Alonzo must have done terrible things to earn that much money at such a young age.

This is probably blood money,I suddenly think, fanning the cash. Surely, all his money is blood money, including what Jacob wants to steal from him.

I took an ethics class my sophomore year, but the scenarios covered in class seem useless in real-life scenarios like these, when money can actually help good people like Mom. Or am I just rationalizing my morals away?

Always the overthinker, I sigh. I drop my arms and the stack of bills by my sides and look at the ceiling again. Doing quickmental math, I know I can pay off the student loans I have accumulated so far—around thirty-seven thousand, give or take a few hundred bucks. I had to use student loans to pay for living expenses before I started working at The Den. Living in a one-bedroom apartment in this town is not cheap.

I can use the remaining money to pay for the remainder of my senior year. If I use it wisely, I can even use some of it to cover my living expenses without having to work at The Den—although I don’t know how Jacob would react if I quit out of the blue. He would probably throw a fit.

Alonzo’s money will certainly help a lot, but it’s not a long-term solution. I still need money to cover my mom’s medication for years to come.

I have to go through with Jacob’s plan.

I need to gain Alonzo’s trust.

???

The next day, Alonzo teaches us about the shapes that make up the human body. Unlike his first lecture, we don’t have to draw an actual human, which is a relief. And sure, my cones and ovals aren’t as good as Isabella’s, but they’re not bad.

I’ve been trying to gauge Alonzo’s attitude since class started. Once in a while, he glances in my direction, instantly teleporting me to last night and remembering how his hungry stare burned against my body. Just the thought of him wanting me brings chills behind my neck.

Still, despite his glances, I can’t seem to read his mood at all. I’m glad he’s not teasing me about last night because I would diefrom embarrassment, but isn’t that the whole point? To make him think I’m head over heels for him?

“Want to grab lunch after class?” Isabella whispers as we near the end of class. “There are some friends you might like to meet.”

“Um,” I start, not entirely sure how to politely turn her down. She has been nice to me so far, but I’m not interested in meeting other art students. In fact, I’m not much of a socialite among business majors, either.

I tried to make friends freshman year, but my social life basically came to a halt my sophomore year when Mom got diagnosed with MS. Taking care of her on weekends and keeping up with school, work, and friends became too much. Something had to give in, so I decided to focus on school and work.

---