Page 10 of The Billionaire's Pawfect Match

EMILY

The key turns in the lock with a soft click, and I push the door open to the familiar scent of cinnamon candles and our lavender laundry detergent. The hum of the city below our fifth-floor window fades as I step inside, letting the quiet sanctuary of our little apartment envelop me. Jenn sits cross-legged on the couch, her laptop balanced on her knees and a bowl of half-eaten pasta on the coffee table.

“Hey,” she greets me without looking up, her fingers flying over the keys.

She’s got another editing deadline to get through, and I don’t mind. Even though we’re the closest of friends and living together means we get to have extra fun, I’m in a strange mood and could use a little time to myself.

As I walk by, though, headed to the kitchen and the frozen dinners in the freezer, she closes her laptop. “What’s new?”

“Well…” I pivot to face her. “I do have a new client.”

“That’s great!”

“Yeah… He’s kind of a big deal. Isaac Lennox. From Lennox Realty?”

Her eyes grow to the size of saucers. “No way.”

I nod, a small smile tugging at my lips. “Yeah. Apparently my last client was his assistant’s mom. I had no idea.”

“Emily, that’s amazing!” She sets her laptop aside and stands, rushing over to wrap me in an impromptu hug. “You’ve worked so hard for this.”

I hug her back, the warmth from her enthusiasm seeping into me. Still, I’m full of nerves, the kind that make me feel like I might vomit at any moment. Pulling away, I lean against the kitchen counter, trying to mirror her excitement. “Yeah, it is pretty cool.”

“More than cool. You’re going to be amazing.” I know she believes in me, but her voice seems to come from far away as I trace the wood grain of the cabinet with my finger.

“Thanks. I hope so.”

Jenn’s brow furrows, and she studies me, concern etching her features. “You okay? You seem… off.”

I force a laugh, too sharp, too quick. “Just tired, I guess. It’s been a long day.”

“Go get some rest, then,” she urges, gesturing towards my bedroom with a tilt of her head.

“I will soon. I gotta eat something first.”

She gets back to work as I toss a frozen dinner in the microwave and then do some light kitchen cleaning while I wait for it tofinish. After scarfing down the food, I take a quick shower and step into my bathrobe.

My bedroom is dim, the only light a soft glow from the streetlights outside. Even here in my private sanctuary, I can’t shake the heaviness that has settled over me, a blanket woven of anticipation and dread.

This is what I asked for, isn’t it? To prove myself — to take on clients who could make or break my career with a single review?

That’s it, though. The reason behind my dread. If Isaac doesn’t like what I do with Baxter, if I fall short in any way, he could destroy my reputation. He has that sort of power.

And if the opposite happens, if he’s blown away by my skills, then I could be catapulted to another level. I could become a trainer to celebrities and rich people galore. Their names could help me growmyname, and consequently the more good I could do.

So here I am, teetering on the edge of a massive shakeup. It’s exactly what I wanted; I just didn’t expect it to be so terrifying.

Climbing into bed, I pull the covers up to my chin and exhale slowly, trying to steady the flutter in my chest. I play today’s meetup over and over, clocking what I suspect are Baxter’s motivations. He has triggers, too, I’m sure. I just need to find out what they are.

My mind races through potential scenarios, each one ending with a mistake I can’t afford to make. A man like Isaac has little patience — he showed that with his reaction to his dog running off — so there will be a small window for me to make an impression.

Because the meetup today wasn’t enough, even though Isaac was pleased. Now comes the hard work. I need to keep that momentum going.

I close my eyes, trying to catch my shuteye, but it doesn’t come easily. Instead I find myself reaching for my laptop, charging on the floor next to my bed.

Opening it up, I nestle against the pillows, the keyboard warm under my fingertips as I type in Isaac Lennox’s name, driven by an odd compulsion to know more about him.

As pages of search results populate with a click, I learn that his wealth is even more staggering than I imagined. Figures sprawl across the articles like the most audacious of skyscrapers, each zero piling upon the last until they reach the stratosphere — tens of billions. A breath I didn’t realize I was holding escapes me, and it feels like I’m trying to comprehend the vastness of the universe from my tiny, earthbound vantage point.

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