Page 12 of Fake for 7 days

"SHIT!!!"

Stunned, I looked through the windshield at the red car in front of me. It was right in front of me, looked new and expensive, and I had just crashed into its rear with a distinct crunch.

Isabella Abbott, how can you be so stupid! How can you! You should have paid better attention. This is what you get!

Yes, this is what I got.

Speechless with shock, I watched as the car door opened. A man got out and slowly approached me.

And what a man.

An impeccable suit. And with it he wore... sneakers? I blinked. Indeed. Suit and sneakers. Despite the serious situation, I had to giggle. I'd never seen that before.

I liked it.

Just like the rest of the man.

Messy blonde hair. Bright blue eyes that now fixed on me through the windshield, looking annoyed. Some light stubble and a straight nose in an attractive face.

My heart beat faster and I ran my tongue over my lips.

You need to get out, Isabella.

With trembling fingers, I undid my seatbelt. I could barely tear my eyes away from the face of the stranger who now stood directly in front of my car, moving his thumb and index finger.

Money.

He was making the sign for money.

Now you're really in deep shit, Isabella Abbott.

I had no money.

Instead, I had carelessly caused an accident that damaged an expensive car. My insurance would certainly not be enough to cover it. As was common in the US, I only had insurance with a very low coverage limit. I had thought anything else was unnecessary.

If I had thought the day couldn't get any worse, I was now being taught otherwise.

All the ideas I had just been developing to find a solution to my predicament now collapsed like a house of cards.

No money.

No job.

A bank that would soon be breathing down my neck.

Caused an accident with significant damage.

How would I ever get out of THIS mess?

The stranger looked at me expectantly.

Chapter 4 ~ Carter ~

TheeveningNewYorktraffic was getting on my nerves. As always. My car collection consisted of a Ferrari, a Porsche, and a Maserati, and I loved pushing them to their limits. The feeling of racing down the streets at full speed in comfortable, luxurious leather seats, all while maintaining complete control, was simply priceless. In those moments, I felt like the king of the world. In Manhattan, however, that was never possible. Right now, I wasn't even reaching the speed limit, instead crawling like a snail between other cars along the street.

"Damn it," I cursed out loud. I quickly glanced around. I knew this area well. I decided to ignore the instructions from my navigation system. Nothing beat local knowledge when it came to finding the fastest route to a destination at a certain time of day. So I turned right onto a side street and switched off the annoying voice that was just telling me to make a U-turn as soon as possible.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you? But not with me. I'm still the one calling the shots here." I didn't let anyone dictate to me. Especially not a computer voice.

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