Mr. King (New York City Billionaires Book 4) by Mary Jennings

Author:Mary Jennings [Jennings, Mary]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-08-31T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine: King

As I walked up the street, I glared at my phone. My online banking app was open on the screen, declaring the full balance of my inheritance trust in bold print. It was an absurd amount, even after I’d spread it out across various investments once I turned eighteen and could access it.

That wasn’t the only reason why I was pissed off, though. The daily withdrawal limit was ten million dollars. That was double the amount I needed to buy Vincent out of the contract, and it was right here in front of me. One tap with the tip of my finger and this whole thing could be over. I could pay off Zadie and Attorney Kwan for their services. I could replace Vincent’s original investment. I could give everyone at EVA Company a bonus.

All of that could be accomplished within minutes. The overall balance in my account would barely take a hit.

I wouldn’t do it, though. I refused. I hated how easy it was, but I hated how strong the temptation was even more. Even though Zadie told me that the only thing I was supposed to be doing was running my company as usual, I couldn’t focus on anything else. I had to come up with a way to get Vincent away from EVA Co. without relying on my family money as a privileged brat would do.

“If it’s worth anything to you, I think your idiotic stubbornness is admirable.”

More than anything, I hated how many times Zadie’s words from our lunch together the other day played in the back of my mind. Her approval felt like it was worth something, because it was so hard to earn in the first place. After trying and failing to win her over with my kindness and charm, refusing to indulge in my inheritance was the thing that ultimately caused her to respect me. I liked that about her. She didn’t care about words. She only saw the value in actions, in hard evidence.

For some reason, I didn’t want to let her down.

When I finally looked up from my phone, I was on Canal Street. I’d decided to walk home from the office that night, the brief trek to Soho seeming like a pleasant jaunt in the perfect Manhattan evening. Though I had barely glanced up once during the journey, too absorbed in how much I hated the sight of my own bank account balance, my feet had carried me almost all the way home on their own. They knew their way around this city. It was home.

I sighed and paused. It was late. Almost ten o’clock. The streets were fairly quiet. It was too early for people to be enjoying their Friday nights at the clubs and bars, but too late for anyone to still be out at dinner or after-work drinks. It was the peaceful limbo of a New York City evening, the calm before the storm.

For a second, I actually managed to relax.

Then I noticed something strange. Or rather, someone.

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