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Glancing up, she met the prettiest green eyes she’d ever seen in the face of an older man with black hair silvering at the temples. She recognized him instantly.
“Oh, my god. You’re Bennett Jefferson,” she said reverently. He nodded once curtly and seemed prepared for her to fall on the ground and grab her neck.
No way would she embarrass herself in front of her idol.
“I’m a huge fan of your investment column, Mr. Jefferson. What an honor to meet you in person. Honestly, a little bump was worth it for the privilege.” Looking up at the driver who still supported her weight, she added, “James, you’re strong. I’mnotlight and you picked me up like a potato chip bag.”
Smiling at both of them, she carefully placed her weight on her sprained ankle and grinned through the pain. Later, she’d wonder how maniacal it looked.
“I have to get back to my dorm. Y’all have a great night.” She turned and started to limp away slowly.
The investment banker and billionaire financier known to every person with serious money in the world called out, “Young woman, what is your name?”
Over her shoulder she answered, “Rowan Foxe. Don’t worry, you won’t see my name on a lawsuit. I swear. I’d rather swallow shards of broken glass than initiate another frivolous lawsuit in this country. I’ll throw some ice on it and be good as new in a day or so. Again, really great to meet you in person, Mr. Jefferson. I’m stoked.”
James asked his employer, “Is she really going to limp to her dorm after I hit her with the car?”
“It appears so. How extraordinary.” She managed fewer than ten steps when Bennett Jefferson said loudly, “James, please bring Miss Foxe back to the car so we can return her to her dorm. She’ll never make it with a hurt ankle.”
“I’m fine,” she called without looking back. “Seriously…”
Then James was beside her and it was immediately obvious that arguing with the driver was an exercise in futility. He stared at her for a long moment, bent, and bodily lifted her in his arms. He carried her back to the limo and set her on the seat.
“This isn’t necessary, Mr. Jefferson. No need to make a fuss.”
Mr. Jefferson snorted. “On the contrary, Miss Foxe. When one hits you with their car, afussis generally expected.” He slid into the backseat across from her.
With a heavy sigh, she answered James’ question about which dorm she lived in and he closed the door.
As he got behind the wheel, she asked, “Can you stop a block or two away, James?”
“My goodness, may I ask why?” Mr. Jefferson had an expression of shock and general confusion on his face.
“Half the girls in this place come from extremely wealthy families, here to hook up with the next business mogul or oil man. It’s beyond nauseating and I’m afraid I’m quite vocal about their complete lack of self-respect. Selling themselves to the highest bidder and whatnot.”
It was impossible to prevent her eye roll.
“My financial analysis paper was an in-depth study of your market strategies, sir.”
“Fascinating.”
“I’m something of a super-fan of your work. If they see me getting out of a limo, specificallyyourlimo, I’m going to look like the worst hypocrite. I have to practically beat these silly bitches down half the time as it is.”
“I’m almost afraid to ask why.”
Affecting a stereotypical southern belle persona, Rowan fanned herself and fluttered her lashes. “Why, I declare, I don’t know why they let thesescholarshipstudents in here. They should select applicants based on their hierarchy in the social and financial strata. Allowingcharity casesinto our hallowed halls is just plainvulgar.”
“That bad, huh?” She nodded with a heavy sigh. “You seem uniquely grounded for someone your age, Miss Foxe. Your attitude should be refreshing to other young people.”
“Call me Rowan. I don’t rate aMiss Foxein any company.”
“As you wish but not because you don’t rate the respect. Why would you think you don’t?”
She shrugged. “I don’t remember anything before waking up in a hospital with a busted head at age ten. My name is cobbled together from a piece of paper and a wooden necklace. It may or may not even be mine, Mr. Jefferson.”
“Call me Bennett. Tell me more.”
“I spent the next eight years in a girls’ home in a small town named Daingerfield and I came here on an academic scholarship. I work at a bookstore. I buy my clothes off the rack when I feel the need to shop once a year. I don’t drink and I don’t date. None of these people know how to deal with me and since I have no interest in dealing with them, it’s just best if we avoid contact at all times.”
