Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 54886 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 274(@200wpm)___ 220(@250wpm)___ 183(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54886 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 274(@200wpm)___ 220(@250wpm)___ 183(@300wpm)
My office was at the end of the hall, the windows overlooking the small park behind us, a rare treat in downtown Toronto. I owned the building, refusing to pay rent to someone else. I used the top two floors, and the bottom two were rented from me. That money got reinvested and used to help make others’ lives easier. My world was a constant circle of money in and money out. The bottom line was that no matter how much I gave away, it would always be replenished. My father, although lacking in emotional support, had built a strong portfolio of investments, real estate, businesses, and land. Once I was no longer an angry man, I focused on the good the money could do and stopped selling off businesses and giving away money like an idiot, and I made a career of it. I had quadrupled his portfolio, making it mine.
The sunlight bounced off the snow, reflecting on the window behind me as I studied the picture on my phone. I had snapped it yesterday while Rosie was busy. It was the January calendar for her and AJ. Her work, his school and activities, the online second job hours she had penciled in as much as she could. She was a single mother who struggled every day to be both parents to her son, while working two jobs and still making sure AJ was looked after, had outside activities, and was happy.
As I told her, she amazed me.
The one thing this schedule confirmed was that Rosie had zero time for herself. If she wasn’t working, she was shuttling AJ around, taking care of him, and once he was in bed, taking care of the apartment and her second job. She had mentioned wanting to continue her accounting education as well.
“When I can afford it,” she had added. “Maybe a couple of years away, but I’ll get it done.”
Everything she did focused on AJ. He had good, warm boots. Hers had seen better days. His winter coat was newer. Hers was well-worn and ragged along the hem. They took the bus or walked everywhere. Yet she never complained.
And now, I wanted some of her time. Which she had precious little of to spare. I wanted to figure out a way to help her, which, in turn, helped me. It was selfish, but I didn’t care.
I made a call to a friend who owned a nanny service. After describing what I wanted, Maureen was quiet for a moment. “I don’t really offer babysitting services, Asher.”
“I’ll pay double. Surely some of your nannies want extra money.”
“This is highly unusual.”
“I just need a couple of nights a week. Please.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
I hung up, hopeful that she would figure something out. She always did. Her business had a stellar reputation. If I could prove to Rosie that AJ would be well looked after, maybe she would go out with me. I knew she didn’t want to take advantage of her neighbor all the time. And I wanted to see her more than occasionally.
I had an email with some photos attached, and I grinned as I chose the options I liked best from the selection my designer had provided. Part two of my plan was moving ahead swiftly. It helped when you owned the business you wanted a quick turnaround from.
Then, satisfied there was nothing more I could do at the moment, I turned my attention back to business. I had back-to-back meetings the rest of the day. It was always busy after returning from the holidays, and this year was no different.
Except I was different.
In ways I had never expected.
And I rather liked it.
Six o’clock appeared in the blink of an eye. I had been busy all day, yet Rosie invaded my thoughts often. I wondered how her day was going. If AJ had enjoyed being back at day care. If she had eaten lunch. I knew she had a new boss starting today, and I hoped the transition had gone well.
Selfishly, I hoped she’d had time to ask her neighbor if she would watch over AJ one night so I could take her out.
I picked up my phone, dialing her, suddenly wanting to hear her voice.
She answered, her tone cautious. “Hello.”
“Hey, sweetheart. How was your day?”
“Asher?” she questioned.
I laughed, even as a ripple of possessiveness ran through my chest. “Do you have a lot of men calling you up and addressing you as sweetheart?”
She hummed in amusement. “I didn’t recognize your number.”
“Oh. I called you from my other cell phone. I only use it for business, and I was on it most of the day,” I explained. “I picked it up out of habit.”
“I’m in your business contacts?”
“You’re in both business and personal. Now you have this number, and you can reach me anytime. But use the personal one first. I always answer that, no matter what.”