LOGINStruggling, single mother, Zoe is down on her luck, living dollar to dollar and fighting to keep it together for her kids when her past comes crashing back into her life, literally, when she crashes her rusty old car into the back of a sleek, black sports car. Greyson Elliot, CEO, the most powerful man in LA stood before her demanding her insurance details. There was something so familiar about him but it couldn't be, could it? It couldn't be the same scrawny, poverty-stricken Greyson Elliot she and her friends bullied in high school? When Greyson offers her a job so he can recoup the cost of his car her life dizzying turn for the better. But can Zoe handle the new Greyson? Just when she thinks she's gotten things under control her abusive ex threatens to do everything he can to ruin her and their three innocent children.
View MoreGreyson's POVI leaned back in my chair, tapping my fingers rhythmically against my desk, my eyes fixed on my computer monitor. I'd read the same line of code seven times. Zoe's cruel words rang through my head on a loop crushing my concentration.That Greyson. I scoffed to myself. I am that Greyson. Zoe is the one who had changed. Not me. Zoe was nothing like the woman I had in my head who I'd planned my life with and she was nothing like the smart, feisty, fiery girl who I remembered from school.And how would she even know what I was like in school? She barely spoke to me. A smile and eye contact was the most I could look forward to. I could count on one hand the number of times she spoke to me.I still remembered the very first words she uttered to me. We were eight years old. She was playing tag with a girl called Samantha, a chubby girl with a face full of freckles and large brown eyes. She ducked backwards out of Samantha's reach and tumbled right into me knocking my glasses o
Zoe's POV "I'm hungry," Bella moaned as I slipped my key into the front door lock. "Me too, I'm starving," Harry joined in. Isaac said nothing. He hadn't uttered a word the whole way home. I left all three kids on the sofa in front of the TV, leaving Isaac in charge of the TV remote and made my way to the kitchen. Smoke still lingered in the air. The blackened casserole sat on top of the stove. I grabbed a knife from the sink and poked at the charred remains. It was black the whole way through, even if the kids wouldn't accuse me of trying to poison them if I served it, it was utterly inedible. Ash the whole way through. I sighed throwing the knife back into the sink and headed to the fridge. Four lonely eggs sat on the middle shelf next to a carton of expired yoghurt and half a gallon of milk. An inch of hardened cheddar cheese nestled on the shelf in the door. My stomach rumbled as I tossed the eggs and some grated cheese and milk into a pan, already guessing Bella's reaction.
ZoeI set up three alarms on my phone, all within fifteen minutes of each other. The casserole was still bubbling away in the oven. I tried to block out the low-level bickering between Bella and Harry and carried on making sandwiches for sack lunches for tomorrow. I needed to be organized. I needed to be at work on time. My job and my kids' futures depended on it."It's my turn for the TV, Harry," Bella whined."My cartoon is not finished yet," Harry argued."Yes, it did. You put a different one on.""I didn't like the first one.""Harry, give Bella the TV remote," I called throwing their clothes for tomorrow into the washing machine."No fair," Hary protested. "She got to watch her show.""Give me," Bella screeched, that ear-piercing, migraine-inducing screech that set my teeth on edge. "Give me. Give me. Give me."The walls vibrated as Mrs Carlton from next door hammered on them."
Greyson 9 am Monday morning came and went with no sign of Zoe. I paced the floor in front of Mabel's desk glancing at my watch and back at the unmoving private elevator. I should have never given Zoe a chance. I should have known this would happen. Zoe was a mess, incapable of organising a party in a brewery. She blamed everything on her kids, on being a single parent. It was all bullshit. My mom was a single parent. She held down a job and studied while raising Stella and me and we were never late for school. We were always pushed to do our best. Zoe appeared to be raising a future felon, a mild-mannered mute and a kid who thinks the world owes him a living and shoes. My mother would never allow anything like that to happen. "She'll be here, Sir," Mabel said. "This job is important to her." "Yeah, it looks like it," I scoffed. The Zoe I remembered from school was never late but then the Zoe I remembered from school would never have had three kids before the age of thirty with n
ZoeHe was a bastard in the last interview. How would pre-Kobe Zoe handle it? She'd give the best damn interview of his life and then tell him to stick his job up his asshole.The latter part doesn't work for present-day Zoe. Present day Zoe h
ZoeHoly shit is the man different to the boy. The Greyson Elliot I remember was scrawny and shy. He didn't speak, he muttered. We all thought he was dumb, he never spoke, never answered questions in class and despite his nickname, he was always clean. The clothes he wore
Greyson“Oh, yes, Sir, I’m flexible. I take yoga classes. It really helps with my flexibility.” She ran an unnervingly long red talon up her smooth, orange leg, thrusting her cosmetically enhanced tits out and continued waffling about yoga.
ZoeMug of steaming coffee in hand, I wound my way back to Isaac’s laptop. With an empty purse and a repair bill for a Jaguar I-Pace winging its way to me, I can’t afford coffee, but I can’t afford to not job hunt, nor will my finances stretch to reinstating
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