A Wife for the Billionaire

SOFIA

If what happened five minutes ago was counted as a success, then it sure doesn’t feel like it.

I had left Anna Wintour’s office five minutes ago and I’m yet to decide which way forward.

I haven’t even halted a cab. I had been walking since and I needed the air, the open space, plus I needed to process all that had happened and walking gave me the time and avenue for that.

A man walked past me, more like staggered past me. The stench of alcohol trailing after him.

The streets were almost empty, only a few pedestrians walked by, a social worker pushed an aged woman in her wheelchair. Kids who should be in school, there were five of them, chattering about the arcade as they hurried by, their backpacks clapping against their backs.

I even walked past what must’ve been a gay hookup, two guys having an intense assfuck in the back of the car, the action causing a swinging motion of the car.

Looking away from them, I forced myself back to my thoughts.

I had forced a smile as Anna patted me in the back when she led me out of her office.

We had come to some sort of an agreement, or should I say... an arrangement. She was to publish a front page issue of the Wellington latest collection if I wrote the article. Of course, it won’t be my name that will be on the magazine as the writer.

And she would do so with hopes that

after getting the job, and saving Harry’s,