**Rough Draft**

"Brea! Where the hell are you? I'm waiting outside your house right now and you're not even home!"

Shana glared at me and sniffled after I played the message she'd left me an hour ago. We were at Kirk's Diner and she was upset – to say the least – about ditching her.

"Oops," I say sheepishly. She rolls her eyes and then gives me a smile telling she already forgave me. Sipping on her cup of hot cocoa that I was forced to buy for her, a mischievous look creeps in her eyes. I brace myself for the worst.

"Soooo, this Mr. Right offered you a job, huh?" she drawled, winking. I grin at her. "Next thing you know I'm going to be an auntie–"

"Shana!" She giggles while I try to recover from my blush. Damn this girl.

She flips her auburn hair and tilts her head to the side, smirking. "But seriously, Brea. You know that guy's rich and hot beyond belief!" I shrug. Mr. Right was, no doubt, hot beyond belief, but I wasn't buying his story for now deciding to get a babysitter, which I relayed to Shana.

"He wants a babysitter for Blake now that work is taking up all of his time? Sounds lame to me. Like, what about all those other times Blake went home with some other guy and not hid own dad?"

"Totally!" Shana agreed, sipping the last of her drink. "And his real motive is to make that cute girl who works at his son's nursery to become his mistress!" I groaned while she grinned, proud of her own theory. "Do I see a scandal coming along?" I scoff. The last thing I needed for college was to deal with a millionaire with the media after his tail.

"Shana, look. I work for Mr. Right. I don't even think he's capable of any serious relationships." Shana pouts at my negativity. "Don't tell me you don't think all those snobs from Paris are just 'business partners'." I then recall the moments after I accepted the job offer, Mr. Right had actually taken me to his house.

But, way to go Mr. Right. The day I'm hired as babysitter my tour of your extravagant house is cancelled when your "lady friends" decide to show up and give me dirty looks. I got the hint. Thanks.

"Who knows? What if he decides to change?" Shana says defensively. I open my mouth to protest, but she continues. "He did tell those ladies to leave didn't he?" I scrunch up my nose.

"Yeah–"

"And didn't he apologize; tell you that you'll never see them again?"

"Yes, but–"

"And didn't he say he was going to pick you up again for a more personal tour?" I rolled my eyes. This girl. How she twisted my words, I would never know. "Aww, come on Brea," She begged. "Stop finding excuses to keep people out. Don't let–" she stopped herself and I cringed slightly, a feeling of dread filling my stomach. "–Derik stop you."

I exhaled sharply. Again with Derik. Why did she continue to bring him up? Hey, it wasn't my fault he was a part of a gang that sold illegal drugs. It wasn't my fault he got arrested and I was charged with gang affiliation. It wasn't my fault I'd been cleared, by Audrey's lawyer husband, Ryan, and he wasn't. And it definitely was not my fault that he told me he'd personally come for me because I got out jail time while he was sentenced four years in prison.

"It was six years ago, Brea," Shana said softly, reaching to take my hand. "That idiot has no idea where you are. And I guarantee you'll never see him again."

I shut my eyes, putting my life back together. Blake, Shana, Audrey and Ryan; they mattered to me.

I opened my eyes and gave Shana a smile and squeezed her hand. I was over him. His words no longer tormented me, but I was not going to allow myself to be weak anymore. No, never again.

We lapse into a silence, my self-declaration losing its nuance.

Absently, I glance down at my phone to check the latest news. An article pops up, catching my attention.

HEAD FOUNDER OF SALISTOR & CO. DYING

Johnathon Salistor, CEO of Salistor & Co. was admitted into the hospital early this morning with heart failure. Doctors say his condition worsens and recovery seems unlikely. Colleagues have already arrived to talk about his successor, whom according to them, Salistor stated that he wished his firstborn to take after him.

This strikes controversy from the Salistor family as he had two wives and an anonymous report filed in their family records say that Salistor's son, Jay Salistor, is not the firstborn, but a daughter from his first wife. There are no reports of the divorced Ms. Salistor after the affair Salistor had with his secretary that had initially broke the marriage, and none of their daughter.

So where is this mystery girl? She could be the next CEO to a multi-million dollar company!

On the flip side, William Right, Salistor's #1 competitor--

"Hey, Brea," Shana said over my shoulder, startling me. "Isn't that your last name?" I nod, scrolling back up. "Doesn't that mean you could be that guy's daughter?" I bit my lip, my thoughts racing. Maybe? "Just think of it, Brea! Rich! That's what we'd be! Rich!"

"You think so?" I ask, eyebrows raised.

I'd stopped searching after Audrey took me in six years ago. She and Ryan were family enough for me after cleaning up my mess with Derik. With Audrey's help we were able to find the first family that had adopted me when I was a baby. They had said I was a closed adoption, which halted any further information on who my biological parents were.

Shana shrugged. "Why not? I'm sure there are thousands of girls trying to claim they're the daughter for all that money."

I sigh. A part of me wanted that closure, knowing who my parents were, but my conscience fought back. I was content with living with Audrey and Ryan, after all, they let me keep the only thing I knew about the real me: my last name. For whatever reason I'd been given up, I was past it.

My phone buzzes, breaking my thoughts. I frown, not recognizing the number appearing on my screen, but take it anyway.

"Hello?" I say. Shana leans in closely, waiting to hear the reply. She gasps as she hears the husky voice from the other end of the line as my neck pricks at the recognition of the voice.

"Oh, hello, Ms. Salistor. This is Will—Blake's father. Your mother gave me your number–"

"More like stalker.com," Shana whispers. I wave my hand for her to be quiet. I could barely hear him straight with my heart pounding in my ears.

"–My chauffer will pick you up in five. Where are you?" Wait what? He wanted to pick me up? I thought he told Blake I'd be coming later.

"Kirk's Diner," I answer after Shana shoved me, realizing he was waiting for an answer.

"Alright." There was a sound on the other end of the line, as if he were taking in breath and releasing it. "I will see you later."

"Okay?"

Shana laughs aloud as I end the call. I smile awkwardly.

"He is definitely going to see you later," she says, her light brown eyes twinkling. "But the question is, how late?"

"Did I hear you say 'Brea let's go outside, there's a limo waiting for us'?" I respond, uncomfortable by what she meant.

"Limo? Where?!" she squeals, rushing out of the diner. I call a waitress over and pay for the drink plus tip. "Brea! Get over here! NOW!" Shana shouts after the waitress had left.

I sling my bag over my shoulder, taking my time. She probably just found another state quarter on the ground or a "pretty" rock. Sometimes I wonder how Corbin puts up with her. Then again, I put up with her.

Once outside, I gasp. Much to my surprise, parked outside the diner was a sleek black limousine with a uniformed driver standing in front. He was the guy who picked up Blake from the day care.

Seeing me, the driver gave a small bow, making Shana and I look at each other with raised eyebrows.

"Madam Brea," he said, his voice silky with a foreign accent. "I am Pierre, and I am here to escort you to Mr. Right's estate." We just gaped while some passerby gave us a funny look as she walked past us.

"Um sorry, we have plans," I say, pinching Shana out of her daze. She gazes mournfully at the beautiful ride as we walk away, leaving Pierre confused.

"Brea! How could you?" she whined. "I wanted to ride that limo!"

I hesitate. "Mr. Right isn't supposed to pick me up until eight. We have plans right now."

"Aww, do we have to? I think I'd skip a movie to be in the backseat of that limo with Pierre," she purred the name. I rolled my eyes, but she was right. I was sure I would too. I quickly shook my head.

"Shana you have a boyfriend already and we don't have time for whatever Mr. Right has planned for us."

"Party pooper," she mutters, but she allowed me to guide her to the theater several blocks down. We snuggle up in our seats, relieved to be out of the cold.

And the truth was, that as much as I wished Shana and I could spend a free night, I so badly wanted Mr. Right to stay business-only. I didn't want to be in that vulnerable position of being in love again.