Page 11 of Light in Your Eyes
I drag my suitcase, stepping out of the arrival gate. My eyes travel around the airport, and once I spot the sign with my full name on it—written in big, bold letters—I rush toward it.
The man carrying it greets me, "Layla Hayes?"
I nod, flashing him a smile. "Yes. Are you Mr. Andy Wilson's assistant?"
I was told that my client, Andy, would send his assistant to pick me up. I'm just glad that I can find him because I have no idea where to go.
The man greeting me is wearing shades, so I can't really see his face. But he seems young, probably only a few years older than me. He's dressed in a black jacket, jeans, and boots. He doesn't look formal.
"Welcome to Texas." He helps me carry my suitcase before I can decline his assistance, and I have no choice but to follow him toward the parking lot.
To say that I'm anxious would be an understatement.
I never thought that I would fly all the way here towork, but I knew that I wouldn't be able to pass on this opportunity with how much the client would pay me.
Nana and Archer were no doubt shocked when I told them I had to be in Texas early to settle my living arrangements before starting college at Texas Tech University. I said that the flat room I wanted to rent would be passed to someone else if I didn't come here today. They believed me.
When I step out of the building toward the parking lot, the sun is already setting. I wonder if I can sleep soundly tonight, knowing that I still have to adjust to the new place. I guess the tiredness will help—I barely got enough sleep last night because of rushing to pack my things.
A black limo pulls up in front of us, causing me to raise my eyebrows in question. To my surprise, the man carrying my suitcase opens the door for me.
It turns out that Andy Wilson is super rich. I didn't expect that I would be picked up in a limo.
After the man puts my suitcase inside the trunk, he gets into the car after me instead of taking the seat beside the driver.
The driver, who's wearing a formal suit—contrary to Andy's assistant—starts driving, and that's when the assistant presses a button on the armrest that pulls the partition down. Maybe he wants to talk to me about something confidential, but that doesn't make me less alert because everything happening to me suddenly feels suspicious.
He takes off his sunglasses. "I'm sorry. I haven't introduced myself." He turns his head toward me, and I can see his dark blue eyes, which are in contrast with his blondehair. A smile forms on his lips. "I'm Cole."
"Mr. Andy Wilson's assistant?" I question again.
Even though I know the answer, he didn't respond to that when I first saw him.
A sigh escapes from his mouth. "I am indeed your client's assistant, but I'm afraid that you'll be needing a lot more explanation."
My brows furrow. "What do you mean?"
He ignores my question, taking out his phone from his jacket pocket instead. While he's scrolling through his phone screen, I notice a tattoo on the inside of his wrist.
It's a tattoo of black wings, with red streaks. Although the tattoo is small, the wings have long, slotted feathers, each of which very detailed and well-crafted.
I’d never seen a tattoo so hypnotizing. It's scary that a tattoo can have such an impact on the person seeing it. The hair on the back of my neck suddenly stands, and I don't even know why. Cole has a dangerous aura I can't explain.
He seems to be reading a text from someone. "He just made the transfer of payment. You might want to check it."
With curiosity building up inside me, I take out my phone from my sling bag and notice a notification from my mobile banking. As soon as I open it, my eyes widen in shock.
The amount of money transferred to my bank account is beyond what I was told by the care agency. It's way too much, I have to recheck the number of zeros I'm seeing. With this money, not only I can pay all of Nana's debt for her medical bills but also the tuition fees for the most prestigious university in the country—even in the world. I can even save it for Archer, for his future.
This is insane. My hand is shaking as I hold my phone.
"What?" I can't help but stutter.
It's not that I don't want the money—this solves all of my family's problems—but there must be a mistake. A huge one.
"The payment was made in full amount instead of every month," the man beside me continues speaking casually like it's no big deal. "He paid in advance for your one-year contract."
I snap my head toward him. My eyes are wide, and my chest is heaving up and down. "I'm sorry. There must be something wrong. I didn't apply for a job with this amount of payment."
