Page 13 of Hold On Me

Chiselled cheekbones and a strong jawline covered in stubble make me squirm. As he turns his gaze toward the camera, his dark eyes burn into me, turning from amber pools into molten lava. A smug smirk lands on his lips, as if he can see the reactions I’m having to him.

I hit pause quickly, cursing silently as the familiar throb between my legs makes an appearance. Fucking Ben Elias. The man drives me absolutely crazy. Part of me wants to strangle him and the other part wants to take him to bed and let him ravage me.

It’s been a long time since I’ve been ravished. About three hundred and sixty billion years to be exact. Well, it feels that long. I take a second to just stare at the screen. His smirk, his eyes, his lips, the stubble… Individually it’s all nice to look at, but when you put it together, it’s like lighting an inferno inside my soul.

And then he opens his mouth and it’s all pompous platitudes and arrogance that sets my teeth on edge.

I’m horny, angry, and confused. Lovely. Just another stark reminder that my life is an absolute shitshow right now.

I expected so much more. Almost thirty and all I have to show for it is an empty house and a pending trip to the unemployment office.

I always thought I’d be married by now. Way before Jenson, never before Jameson, but for sure before Jaxson. Yet here I am with the Brady brothers either married, engaged, or welcoming kids into their families. And I’m stuck desperately searching for a job so I don’t have to work for my enemy. And did I mention alone? Gah, the pity party for one has well and truly landed. It feels pretty fucking pathetic, if I do say so myself.

I grab the phone again, anything to distract myself from wallowing, and roll my eyes when I see notifications from Jenson and my dad. I quickly open Jenson’s and suppress a groan as my eyes take in his words.

Jenson

I’ve spoken to Angie and Hank, we all agree working for the Spartans would be good for you. Don’t be afraid of reaching out to us. We love you and we’re always here for you. If you need money, I got you, but I know you won’t take it. Don’t be stubborn, just go for the interview. Your dad’s already set it up. What’s the worst that could happen? We’re all on your side. Remember that, Buttercup. Love ya always.

This isn’t fair. I prefer immature Jenson, the one who jokes about gossiping over lunches and calls me Buttercup. Not this emotionally grown up version of him who makes sense when I don’t want him to. This is Angie’s fault. And I bring up my texts to tell her so.

Me

Your fiancé emotionally blackmailed me. Tell me I’m not making a huge mistake here.

Angie

My fiancé’s getting the best head of his life tonight. You’re perfect for the role. It pays well and I promise I’ll have lunch with you every day.

Me

You’re disgusting. I hate you all.

Angie

Love you too.

I quickly open my Dad’s text before I change my mind and gulp when I see the few words written.

Dad

8:30. Tomorrow morning. Dress nicely and behave. We’ll talk after. Dad

Shit!

9

PENNY

It’s half past eight in the morning, I’ve been dressed and ready since six thirty, and I’ve already consumed a stupid amount of coffee. My leg is bouncing ridiculously, and not just from the caffeine. It’s a nervous trait I picked up from Jaxson—another stupid thing I can blame the Bradys for.

I stand and swivel on my heels, facing the windows that look out over the city. Taking several deep breaths, I try not to let the reason I’m here into my mind and focus on the view. But all I can think about is the past eighteen hours. Jenson called me after I read his messages to tell me he’d already submitted my resumé to Mr. Elias. I’m absolutely furious with him. So much so, I almost didn’t turn up. But I’m very aware of the dwindling numbers in my bank account and the way the cost of living keeps rising so quickly.

The reality of it sends me dropping into the nearest chair. Even though I told everyone I had it covered, I don’t. My savings won’t last more than a few months, and then I’ll be in real trouble. And I refuse to go to any of the boys or my dad with my hand out. I won’t depend on anyone but me, and you bet your ass I’ll be the one my dad can depend on. It’s one of the only reasons I agreed to this farce of an interview. If my dad needssomething, I’ll be able to help him. I don’t want him worrying about anything while he’s having his surgery.

And even though I really don’t want this job, the pay would make me feel less like a bum compared to everyone else around me who all make considerably more than what I did when I was teaching.

I knew about the long hours and lack of pay when I began my career in education. It was stable, honorable, and worthwhile. Or so I thought.

---