Chapter 2

My eyes lit up instantly.

Fifteen grand a month!

"Room and board included?" I blurted.

Julian looked at me like I was an alien.

"Included."

"Full benefits? Health, dental, 401(k)?"

"...Yes."

"Weekends off? Triple pay on public holidays?"

Julian ground his teeth. "Don't push your luck!"

I pursed my lips.

"No need to bark. I'll do it."

"Good."

"Now, assistant, go wash my car."

My eyes went wide. "Wash the car? You want me to hand-wash a Maybach?"

"Got a problem with that?"

"It'll cost extra." I held out my hand.

Julian took a deep breath, pulled a bill from his wallet, and slapped it into my palm.

"Here. Buy yourself a couple of decent sponges."

I looked at the thirty dollars in my hand and broke into a grin.

"You got it, boss! I'll get her so shiny a fly would do the splits and break a hip sliding off!"

On the first day of school, I proudly became a paid car-washer.

Julian sat on a bench beside the tree-lined campus path, sunglasses on, sipping an iced americano.

His eyes were hidden behind the shades, but I could have sworn his gaze was glued to me the whole time.

And me? In my ripped jeans, hose and sponge in hand, I scrubbed away at the Maybach's rims, grunting with the effort.

Passersby kept shooting me shocked looks.

"Isn't that Mr. Sinclair? Why's he making a girl wash his car?"

"Shh, that's his fiancee, the Ashford heiress."

"Do rich people get off on this kind of thing these days? An heiress washing a car?"

I tuned them all out. My head was full of nothing but my paycheck.

Fifteen grand a month. That's five hundred a day.

And one car wash nets me an extra thirty on the side.

Beats waiting tables at a fast-food joint, right?

"Hey, scrub like you mean it. Didn't you eat?" Julian barked orders from a ways off.

"Boss, wire me another twenty for snacks to boost my stamina, and I'll buff the car to a moon-surface shine."

Julian's mouth twitched, at a loss for words.

Just then, a girl in Chanel couture and four-inch heels came sashaying over.

"Juuulian, what are you doing sitting all the way over here?"

The girl's voice was pitched high and dripping with syrup, so sweet it made my hand jerk and drop the sponge.

"Bianca." Julian gave a lukewarm nod.

Bianca plopped down next to Julian without asking, then her gaze swiveled over to me.

"Oh my god, isn't that you, Cassandra? Why are you dressed like such a charity case, washing a car?"

"Julian, aren't you going to do something? If Mr. Ashford found out, imagine how heartbroken he'd be."

I picked the sponge back up and squeezed out a handful of water.

"He's not heartbroken. I work, and I'm happy."

That shut Bianca up for a second. Then her eyes rolled and she pulled out a few crisp bills.

"Cassandra, since you're so into doing servant work now."

"I'm thirsty, actually. Go to the Starbucks across the street and get me an iced black-currant refresher."

"Keep the change. Consider it your tip."

This was a naked insult.

By the standard script, I was supposed to tear up, bite my lip in humiliation, and then Julian would swoop in to save the day.

But who am I? I'm not an ordinary person.