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All Chapters of Sold For $1 To The Hawthorne Brothers : Chapter 91 - Chapter 100

105 Chapters

Chapter Fifteen

Betty “Good morning, Betty.” Julian Hawthorne says, smiling. “I didn’t think you’d come in this morning, but Kristoff informed me that you’ve never missed a shift since you started working here.”Yeah. Because I know the implication. But…I shake my head, pushing that thought aside. There’s something more perplexing. “What are you doing here?”Julian squints. “What am I doing here? I bought the place last night, remember? And you work for me now. But I have other plans…” he trails off, turning around and heading back into the bar. I stand in the open doorway—dazed and confused—for seconds. Then the pieces begin to reform. Last night. Yup. I ran into Julian Hawthorne leaving the bar. He got me in, then vanished, leaving me with Andy who I wasn’t interested in dancing with. Then I decided to leave, but Kristoff and a freaking big dude stopped me. Okay…Then Julian showed up. And he said he’d bought the bar. Along with several others. And—“A dollar?!” The question flies out of my

Chapter Sixteen

Julian I didn’t think getting Betty on my side was going to be easy, but my head is aching right now. “…and this,” she points to a section of the contracts she drew up herself, her finger tracing the words. “I’d like to amend it.” I resist the urge to dig my fingers into my forehead or reach for one of Volkov’s suspiciously sourced bottles. “Okay,” I nod slowly. “What do you want it to be?” “Thirty vacation days instead of fifteen.” “Sure.” She withdraws her finger and raises her gaze to my face. “You’re going to give me thirty days?” Why does she sound surprised? “That’s what you want, isn’t it? Thirty days. That’s a month. I’m sure I can do without you for that long.” I realize I said the wrong thing the second her mouth flattens and her arms cross over her chest. “You can do without me for that long? You’re running a business, aren’t you? Are you going to get someone to fill in for me during that month—and then fire them after?” Her tone doesn’t spare me any of th

Chapter Seventeen

Betty Hard. And soft.I can feel the muscles bunching under Julian’s shirt and the way his biceps jump under my fingers that are wrapped around them. Not intentional, by the way. We were falling. And the only thing I could do, other than find some magical way to stop the rapid descent, was cling to him. Which……my thumb strokes his arm as a smile curls my lips, like a guilty pleasure. I knew he was fit under his shirt, because he filled it out properly, with those fine calves and toned legs hidden under his pants that are now caged by my thighs. But, mhm, it was different when I could actually feel every bit of it, hard but in a firm cushioning way. Like a bed I could lie on for a while longer…except the bed was making my stomach flutter and my thighs warm enough to get my blood pumping upward. Pumping into one spot, that was now softly pulsing. Ah—Nope! I shake my head, kicking the inappropriate thought into the gutter. No way I’m lusting after a man after I just sent the b

Chapter Eighteen

Julian “How is anyone supposed to take me seriously if you call me pigtails while at work?”I contemplate telling her they won’t have a choice—because I’m their boss and they’ll have to do whatever I say…But the look on her face when I told her I preferred pigtails, that annoyed but somehow confused expression, was too good to pass up. “Do you want to be taken seriously?” I ask, flippantly. Betty glares at me, her eyes narrowed and her chin jutting out. She looked adorable, all fired up. Or maybe I was just an asshole who enjoyed toying with people. Alina would have an opinion about that. She would also tell me to cut it out, but thankfully, she wasn’t here right now. “Who wouldn’t?”“Okay,” I nod, like I’d thought about it and agreed with her. “I’ll call you Betty in front of the people you want to take you seriously. And when you’re not being serious—you’ll be Pigtails.”She gives me an unimpressed look. “When do I resume? What do you plan on doing with the place—tear the walls

Chapter Nineteen

BettyI stare at my reflection in the mirror, my hands restless as I brush invisible lint off the dress, while my pulse races, feeding the anxious knot tightening in my stomach.The person in the mirror doesn’t look like me.I mean, she does—same facial features, same body proportions, but that’s where the resemblance ends. She’s wearing the most expensive dress I’ve ever owned, a dress worth far more than all of my clothes put together and a couple months’ rent.After Julian sent me money to go shopping—which had left me staring at my phone with my jaw practically dropping—he gave me the address of a luxury boutique with a French name I couldn’t pronounce, let alone remember.The dresses…Stunning.Every single one of them looked as though it had been custom-made, as though someone had spent hours obsessing over every stitch and seam. The manager in charge was friendly—to the point of having me try on twenty different dresses before I finally settled on a dark red gown, with a skirt

Chapter Twenty

Julian I have to be a gentleman. I remind myself that, like, twenty times in the five minutes it takes Pigail and me to walk from the car to the building entrance. I should’ve said no to the red dress—Maybe asked her to get something with a high-neck and something bigger, like a ball gown. Maybe put her hair up in pigtails too. She would’ve asked if I was losing my mind. The only thing I’m losing right now, though, is my self-will. I keep my eyes straight on, refusing to let them stray over to her. My thoughts are straying a lot, though, re-drawing the image I’d seen when she first stepped out of her apartment building. The daring cleavage of the dress, the way it hugged her on top and flared slightly at the bottom—the deep red like a beacon sign in a moonless night. Her hair, curled in light waves that fell around her face, a far cry from the quick and efficient hairstyles she usually had on. The skirt she wore to the club, the fishnet blouse she had on when I signed the contr

Chapter Twenty One

Betty “Would you like another?” The bartender, a free-spirited type of person, with gorgeous light brown hair falling to his nape, leans over, shaking a dirty martini in his shaker. “Would I, now?” I smirk, my eyebrows wriggling. “Does a thirsty horse not stop for water?” He laughs as I push my glass closer, getting another refill. He pops an aesthetically pleasing arrangement of tiny olives just over the wide rim, then bows slightly. “Enjoy.”I grin as I lift the glass to my lips, taking a sip at first and then a generous palate-soother. It tastes freaking amazing. Who said partying among rich, snobbish people didn’t have its perks? First of all, I didn’t have to drink boxed wine. The dirty martini tasted like heaven—and the bartender, bless his heart—kept it coming before my glass was flat out empty. How many have I had? “Eh,” I snort to the voice in my head as I flick my wrist dismissively. I take another good sip, letting the chilled vodka slide down my throat, before I top

Chapter Twenty Two

Julian“If you were testing the floor,” I say, glancing down at the narrow strip of polished marble still visible between our shoes, “you’d still be standing on it. Not clinging to my shirt like it’s the last solid thing left in the building.”Betty freezes. Her gaze drops to the front of my shirt, and the second she registers how tightly her fingers are twisted in the fabric, a flush races up her neck and blooms across her cheeks. She lets go as if the material burned her and stumbles back a half-step, nearly colliding with the bar stool again.“Sorry,” she mumbles, sheepish and a little breathless. “I wrinkled it.”I look down at the creases she left across my chest. The expensive fabric is ruined for the night, but I only shrug. “It’s fine. The shirt’s had worse nights.” I tug at the material once, smoothing it with a careless flick of my fingers. She makes a face at that—equal parts offended and amused—and I feel the corner of my mouth twitch despite myself.“So,” I continue, t

Chapter Twenty Three

Betty “Gimme a minute,” I grumble, snuggling deeper into the embrace of my pillow and into the comfort of my bed. My internal alarm has gone off twice already, but I’m too exhausted to drag myself out of bed. I know Victor would have my head for being late, which is why I have a habit of hitting the ground running every morning. But for some reason, the panic isn’t there this morning. As it should be, I think to myself as I bring the pillow closer, wrapping my arms around it. My brows scrunch. My pillow feels bigger than usual. I bought it cheap and pre-loved, so it usually molded into whatever position I wanted, easily. This time though, I could only get my arms around it. And with a little difficulty. Why is it warm, too? And tough? I don’t remember getting a new pillow. And if I did, I would know. Penny-pinching every dime meant I never forgot a purchase if it went over a certain price. My internal alarm goes off again. But this time, it feels like a hand on my shoulder, sh

Chapter Twenty Four

Julian “Okay,” I backtrack quickly, searching for the nearest exit. “Maybe I should’ve phrased that better. I wasn’t talking about me,” I explain, while Betty stares at me like I’ve committed a grave offense. And if she had her way, she would’ve sent me hurling through an open gap in the ground. To my demise. “I was just trying to say that you should talk to someone. Trust someone. That’s something my brother’s fiancée would say if she was here—and she’s an expert at knowing what people need, so…” I trail off. Betty sighs. “I don’t need anybody. I managed this far on my own; I’m pretty sure I can get further without looking for someone to hold a bag of frozen vegetables to my swollen cheek.”“An incident,” she continues with a scathing tone, “that wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t gone with you to that party in the first place. Which I had some reservations about—but I needed the money more,” she mumbles the last part to herself. “I take full responsibility.”She glares at me.

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