One Month

I threw my phone on the bed with a loud groan before plopping down beside it and staring at the ceiling. 

It had been five days since I stormed out of a fully furnished house, rejected 1.5 million dollars, only to return to this trash. I'd spent the last three days searching for jobs and pitching my limited skills to the few companies willing to give me a chance, only to end up getting rejected.

I was at a loss for what to do, but so far the hospital hadn't called about cancelling my mother's treatment. I had to assume Mr Kstervenchi had been kind enough not to have them cut it off.

I dragged my tired body up and headed for the kitchen when a knock echoed through my tiny apartment. I beelined for the door instead and opened it.

"Hi—"

I slammed the door in his face, or so I thought. He'd wedged his foot between the door and the frame, holding it open. 

"I need to talk—"

"Fuck off, Mr Kstervenchi. I do not have the time for your bullshit."

"I just need a few minutes—"

"I swear to God, I will scream rape if you do not leave my doorstep this instant!"

He stared at me, his expression hurt. 

"Okay." He closed the door, and I rushed to lock it. I scowled as I stalked toward the kitchen and shoved the fridge open.

Empty.

"Fuck this!" I slammed it shut, then returned to my room and lay on the bed. My stomach growled, but I ignored it as I forced myself to sleep.

I only had a few dollars in my card, and since there was nothing to eat now, I'd just have to hold up till evening.

It took a long while, but I finally drifted into a hunger-induced slumber.

*******

By the time I woke up, night had fallen, and I felt like a sheet of paper. 

I dragged myself to my feet, but my vision blurred. I staggered, then leaned against the wall and closed my eyes to steady myself.

I threw on a hoodie and shorts, then grabbed my card and stepped out of my apartment. I trudged through the quiet corridors before stepping outside. 

The cold air nipped at my skin. I pulled the hoodie closer, then stuffed my hands into its pockets.

"Miss Marlowe!"

I turned towards the voice as he stepped out of a sleek black car in a crisp black suit. He stopped in front of me.

"Do I have to spell the word fuck off before you get it?" I hissed.

"I just need to talk to you for a few—"

I turned around, only for his hand to wrap around my arm and tug me towards him. I opened my mouth to curse at him, but his words stopped me. "Please, Amelia," he whispered. 

I pressed my lips into a thin line and shot him a glare. Then I ripped my arm from his grasp and crossed them over my chest. "Talk."

His gaze swept across the street. "Do you mind us doing this somewhere... private?"

I gave him a blank look. "I do mind, actually."

"What about a restaurant? Are you hungry for anything—"

"I am not—" My stomach chose that moment to growl loudly. I scowled. He chuckled. 

"You can eat anything you want. I'll pay. I only ask that you hear me out."

I squinted at him for a few moments before huffing. "Lead the way, then."

********

Twenty minutes later, we sat in a room that I struggled to believe was part of the restaurant. Cream walls and tiles, a black sofa perched against the wall and a few chairs arranged neatly on each sides of the room. It looked more like a VIP back at the club, than it did a restaurant.

Mr Kstervenchi sat opposite me with a man in a black suit standing close to him as he ordered a cup of tea, while I went for just about everything on the menu. By the time the meal arrived, I was salivating, and my stomach growled nonstop.

I spent the next few minutes stuffing myself with enough food to last a ruminant animal four days while Mr Kstervenchi played with his phone. 

Once I was done, I gulped down a bottle of water before fixing my attention on him.

"Done?" he asked.

I nodded. 

A hungry man was truly an angry man.

With my stomach now full, my anger dissolved, and I gave him an apologetic look. "I'm sorry I screamed at you," I muttered, fidgeting with my fingers in my lap.

He smiled kindly. "It's fine."

I shifted in my seat. "What did you... want to talk about?"

"Ah, yes." He hummed. "Firstly, I want to apologize for the last time. It was totally uncalled for and unfair to you. I'm deeply sorry." He lowered his head, and I immediately felt awkward.

"It—it's fine," I rushed out. "You can stop... doing whatever you're doing."

"All right, then." He shifted in his seat. "My wife... found out about what happened. I must say, she gave me the courage to come and apologize."

I smiled. "She truly is a remarkable woman."

"She is."

We sat in silence for a moment.

"Moving on, the plan has sadly not changed—"

"I cannot do it, Mr Kstervenchi—"

"Hear me out, Miss Marlowe."

I exhaled tiredly. "Fine."

"As you've noticed, I never cut off your mother's treatment—"

"Are you planning on using it against me again—"

"Of course not. I just want you to know that there's no pressure. I only ask for one more chance."

I frowned. "I don't understand."

"Your mother's treatment will not be interfered with, and you'll still get to walk away with the agreed-upon sum if you decide, by the end of the deal, that you're still are not comfortable doing this with me."

I eyed him sceptically. "What deal?"

His brows furrowed, and his lips pressed into a thin line. "One month. That is all I ask for to change your mind."