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Infuriated doesn’t even begin to cover what I’m feeling. Along with disgusted, indignant, angry.
“Don’t be angry, Maddy. It’s a sweet deal. A car, a house, all paid expenses. And the guy is so damn hot!”
I remember the way he’d looked at me—with those crystal-blue eyes and that wicked grin—and heat rushes through me. I don’t bother denying it. “See, this is the difference between you and me. You see a sweet deal, and all I see is a guy trying to buy sex. Who is he, anyway?”
He’d introduced himself as Evan without giving his last name. I’d never bothered to ask and by the time I’d realized what he wanted, I was too busy scrambling out of there to care.
Sam blinks at me like I’m an idiot. “For real? You don’t know?”
I blink right back at her. “Should I know?”
Sam flashes me a you’re-hopeless look. “You study astronomy and you don’t know who Evan Kohl is?”
Holy crap! “It’s aerospace,” I correct, almost automatically. “And I know who Evan Kohl is. What’s that got to do with—wait,” I glance at her again. “You’re saying that was Evan Kohl? Bullshit. Evan Kohl is some old guy.”
He’s the founder of XVerse, the absolute leader in space exploration, as a matter of fact. The sexy guy at the hotel was far too young to be one of the most brilliant minds of our time.
He’d introduced himself to me as Evan, but there is no way he’s that Evan.
“You’re joking. Who is this guy, really?”
Sam sighs and appears to fight rolling her eyes. “My cousin’s office was asked to coordinate the interviews. No name was ever given, but I did a little digging and found out for myself. It’s the one and only Evan Kohl.”
And, still faced with my skeptical stare, she whips out her iPhone and types a command into Google. Then she flashes the phone in front of my face. “That’s the guy you met, right?”
My mouth drops as I look at the phone, a picture of the mystery man in dark slacks and a button-down blue shirt standing beside a sign with the stylized silver X, for XVerse Space Technologies. Holy. Everliving. Fuck.
“Earth to Maddy.” She snaps in front of my face. I blink and shake off the shock. She slips her phone into the back pocket of her jeans.
Then she gives a slight shrug. “I thought you’d be perfect for the job.”
I make a face at her. “If it’s such a ‘perfect job,’ then why didn’t you go interview for it?”
She raises her brow at me. “Um, because I have a boyfriend who might object to me sleeping with a hot billionaire—at least I think he’d object.” She looks off into the distance, thinking. “Maybe if it was worth his while…”
I make a sound of disgust, throw up my hands and walk away. “You’re hopeless, Sam.”
For the next week, I manage to forget about that awkward encounter with the beautiful Mr. Kohl and focus completely on my studies. In a few weeks, the new term will start, and soon I’ll be taking my qualifying exams to become a doctoral candidate. I’ll have to stand up in front of two professors and present my case to convince them I’m worthy of the rigorous PhD program. Half the students who take the exam fail every year, and I could easily be one of them. It’s the institute’s way of weeding out the weak—university Darwinism at its finest.
Just the thought of facing my qualifying exam makes me want to plant my ass at a bar and drink myself into oblivion—but I’ve vowed to live like a sequestered monk until exams are over. I have too much riding on this.
Though, even if I do pass the exam, I still have no idea how I’m going to pay next semester’s tuition. Even living in off-campus housing with five other girls in partially scholarship-subsidized housing, my paltry contribution to the rent is a week late. I’m living off ramen noodles and two-day-old pizza. And so far I haven’t heard a word back regarding the scholarships I’d applied for.
There is one last resort, but I refuse to even consider it. I’d sworn to myself that I wouldn’t run to my father for help. Not after what that bastard did to my mom. I’m on my own, for better or for worse. This program is my shot at making something of my future, and I can’t screw it up. Not for anything.
I’m sitting on the floor of our huge shared living room, open books surrounding me, when Sam pushes through the front door. “Hey.” She shuts the door and immediately strips off her T-shirt. “Don’t you have class in ten?”
“Oh, shit.” I glance up at the orange retro clock above the fireplace. It’s almost two o’clock. I’ve been staring at these books for four hours and I’ve almost forgotten about the special lecture. “I must have lost track of time.”
“Don’t forget we have a shift this afternoon. Now get your ass to class, young lady.”
“Ma’am, yes, ma’am.” I wave a mock salute at her.
My hair is a mess so I hurriedly yank it into a ponytail. With no time to slap on any makeup, I smear some gloss on my lips, grab my notebook and fly out the door with an airy wave at Sam.
The house is just a block from campus, and I make it to the lecture hall three minutes before class starts. Since I’m late, of course, the only seats available are up front. With a resigned sigh, I drop into one.
This isn’t our usual classroom but a bigger hall to accommodate extra students for a guest lecture. I haven’t even checked who it would be today but I enjoy these, so I flip open my Moleskine notebook and pull the cap off my pen, hurriedly scribbling down the date.
