3. Ella

Chapter 3

Ella

Oh, my goodness, that man never ages.

As I stare at my flushed face in the elevator's mirrored wall, my stomach flutters with the excited energy of a thousand butterflies.

Grant Whitlock is my father's boss's boss, the CEO of Whitlock Global Industries, and the object of my very first crush. I haven't seen him in ten years. How could I? My father is virtually absent from my life, and there's never a good reason to visit the office. I would have loved to pop in and admire the man who first stole my prepubescent heart. I haven't spoken to him in years, but the years are always kind to him. He's aged like a fine wine—and God knows, I love a good wine.

Focus, Ella . In the grand scheme of things, a handsome older man, most likely engaged to a supermodel willing to give him a brood of stunning children who will all inherit those mesmerizing blue eyes shouldn't be top priority. But I'm only human, and some men were born to be admired.

As the bell chimes, the elevator finally reaches the ground floor, and the doors slide open to reveal a busy lobby. People are rushing around, eager to finish their day and head home. It's strange to think that the monotony of an eight-hour workday is held up as the pinnacle of success, and I am no exception in this aspiration. However, I know that I'll never reach this point if I don't complete my degree. And that goal feels further than ever now.

With quick steps, I weave through the thick crowd and dash into the revolving door onto the sidewalk. The loud thrum of bustling traffic does nothing to drown out the buzzing thoughts in my panicked mind. How on earth will I pay for school? And where will I live?

Lacking the funds to take a cab, I rummage through my purse for my beaten-up metro card and thank God that there's station across the street. My best friend, Gale, spent most of last night attempting to bolster my courage and build my confidence, fearing I wouldn't have the nerve to accuse my thieving father of stealing my trust fund. On my way here, she insisted on an immediate update, and I promised I'd swing by her place when I was done.

As I approach the crosswalk, the sounds of traffic and chatter fade into the background as a man's voice calls out my name. "Ella? Ella!"

I stop in my tracks and turn from side to side, searching for the source of the familiar voice. Suddenly, a man appears at my side, his hand landing heavily on my shoulder. Startled, I take a step back, wary of this stranger who seems to know me so well. It takes me a moment to recognize him as Grant Whitlock's brother, but even that realization doesn't ease my discomfort. I nod once, silently acknowledging his question, before pointing to the pedestrian signal and quickly walking away. His presence gives me an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach, like something isn't quite right about him.

My hurried steps echo on the sidewalk as I rush toward the station, barely acknowledging the man whose name I can't remember. His strange persistence makes me uncomfortable, which only worsens when he practically shoves a card in my face. Startled, I stop short and stumble over my own feet, nearly falling to the ground. "Excuse me?" I snap, waving his hand away with annoyance.

"Forgive me. We met upstairs. I'm Gareth Whitlock and I wanted to give you this—it's an invitation to a secret club I think you might enjoy. It's a great place to meet people." Gareth attempts to sound seductive or flirtatious, but sounds smug instead.

Unwilling to argue or read him the riot act for assuming I'm the kind of girl who would show her face at a secret club, I tuck the card in my bag and reply as I walk away. "Thank you. I better run."

"I'll see you there!"

I hear his grating voice as I descend the stairs into the station. I can't believe they're brothers. Mr. Whitlock seems like such a gentleman. I have a hunch he's the kind of man who's too shy to undress in front of others. Or maybe that's me. What the hell do I know anyway? I laugh to myself and dash through the turnstile, slipping into the train moments before the sliding doors close.

As I gather my thoughts and rummage through my chaotic mind, I fish out Gareth's card from my bag, expecting a tacky business card with his phone number and a lame pickup line. "Secret Garden?" I blurt out, causing the nearby group of men to turn their attention toward me. Their lecherous grins make me squirm, so I quickly cover my chest with my purse, hoping to block their hungry gazes.

"Are you a member?" One of the men, a stereotypical-looking stockbroker bro leans forward, his peppermint breath far too close for comfort.

I shake my head and answer as I look away with an air of judgment. "No, I'm not." Since when do strangers discuss these things on public transportation? Unfortunately, my reply does nothing to deter his inquisition.

"You should drop by. It's a great place to meet interesting people." The strange but unusually handsome man repeats what appears to be the club's tagline and hands me another card embossed with the words The Secret Garden.

I stuff it in my purse and rise to stride toward the doors. My stop is coming up and it's best if I get away from him as quickly as possible.

"Look forward to seeing you there. My name is Aiden. And you are?" The man's sudden change in tone almost convinces me to spill the beans, but I've watched enough true crime documentaries to know better than to trust a potential stalker.

"I'm at my stop." Without giving away my name, I bolt through the train doors and weave through a sea of people, blending in like a ninja. It's as if the whole city has gone mad. Luckily, I have some serious speed and Gale's apartment is only two blocks away. I just pray she buzzes me in quickly enough before anyone notices me. Before I hit the buzzer, I do a quick scan for any suspicious-looking characters behind me and breathe a sigh of relief when I see none.

"Is that you? What took you so long?" Gale's voice booms through the intercom.

"It's me! Let me in!" I holler back.

She's never going to believe the day I've had today.