Yours, For Good (Cozy Latine Billionaires #4)

1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Nora

The list of reasons why I shouldn’t be an optimist was nice and long, including the fact that I was currently elbows-deep into cleaning a ten-stall, semi-public bathroom.

To start, I had no known living family. The only person I had ever known to be mine was my mom, but she had died seven years earlier. Now I lived in a charity home for university students in need, and I was in charge of several rotating chores, including cleaning ten toilets twice a month. In fact, at the moment, the smell of bleach tickled my nose, as I scrubbed a particularly disgusting spot behind a white porcelain bowl.

And yet, I believed great things awaited me.

Growing up I had so many questions, but my mom never explained why it was her and me against the world for so long; she had said she'd tell me when I was older and could understand. All I knew was that she had chosen to have me and, at some point soon after, she left with me never to see her family again. I never met my sperm donor or his family, either. I knew my mom had emigrated from an unspecified Latin American country late enough in life to have an accent, and had wanted to add to her Early Childhood Educator diploma to obtain a teaching degree. That was it.

Sadly, she didn't get the chance to explain why it was the two of us. She passed when I had just turned nineteen. It was a couple of years later that I got the scholarship that landed me at the John Grier Home, and I started later than most toward my degree.

A single drop of sweat slid down my neck, but I ignored it. In less than forty-eight hours, I had an appointment with Mrs. Lippett, the director of the John Grier Home. During that meeting, she would tell me if I had been accepted into any of the five grant programs JGH students could apply to, and a positive result would be the ticket to my freedom.

The end of dependency and infantilization.

My toes were numb, and I stood to allow circulation back into my lower limbs. My hands were sweaty inside my rubber gloves; I threw the bright yellow things in the bucket full of cleaning supplies next to me. The stall was pristine enough, and I needed to catch my breath. The next toilet could wait.

I stepped out of the small cubicle and washed my hands. Once thoroughly clean, I bent to drink water straight from the faucet, using my hand as a cup. At this short distance it was easy to notice the hard water stains marring the white surface of the standing sink. I closed my eyes not to see them, but made a mental note to leave them soaking before I moved on to the next toilet.

These past six years had been a blessing wrapped in a straitjacket of obligations and responsibilities. Now, only three days away from my Master's degree, I counted down the hours until I could walk through the John Grier Home's main door to never return. Whether I got a grant or not, I had maxed out what the charity offered, and it was time to leave.

It both terrified me and exhilarated me. I had no real possessions, beyond a meager couple thousand dollars I'd saved by doing every job my degree and responsibilities allowed— I had tutored younger students and worked for college professors as a research assistant or PA.

I sighed and I put my hands on the edges of the sink and hung my head, eyes still closed. I gave myself another minute to settle down, and focused on the spark of hope burning in my chest. I paid attention to it; sought it inside my chest. Tried to grab it and place it in a crystal case to protect it from dust. I needed that hope, if I was to continue working toward my goals.

Once I crossed that big, two-panel wooden door at the front of the building for the last time, I could spread my wings and fly away into the horizon.

I was twenty-six years old and I had worked hard to make my way, and the final push to get my degree had been rough . Applying for those grants had only added to it, to the point I had been sleeping less than six hours a night for weeks at a time. Anything, to get a financial seed to start my business right away.

But even if I didn't get the money— I'd make it work, somehow. My life was about to begin; I could feel it in my bones. Any minute now, and it would happen. Everything I had dreamed of would be at my fingertips.

I'd rent a room— the security deposit would eat up most of my savings, but that was fine. If I didn't get the grants then I'd get a job— almost any job would do— and I would save and start my business. Just like my mom had done when she got her ECE diploma. I would have a beautiful organization where college students and recent graduates could tutor young children and youth, taking my mom's dreams further than she ever could. I would grow the business into a professional, nation-wide provider of specialized care for children and teens, including after-school care. No one would have to feel lost and alone like I had been, whether as a young person needing the support or a student needing to find a way to sustain themselves.

My ten-year plan was clear and bright and—

"Eleanora! Mrs. Lippett wants you to go to her office."

Tommy Dillon, a scholarship student a couple of years younger than me, interrupted my daydreaming by slamming the bathroom door open.

"What, no singing today?" I straightened and pushed against the sink.

Tommy grinned. "I can always siiiiing for yooooouuuu…"

The sound echoed from the walls around us and I begrudgingly smiled. Tommy was known for singing in the hallways of the manor, a fact other students hated twice as much as I did.

"Is she angry?" I asked.

My meeting with Mrs. Lippett wasn't supposed to happen until two days from now. A sudden call to her office wasn't likely to be good news— Mrs. Lippett wasn't the kind of person to excitedly summon you to share joyful tidings. Just a couple of weeks earlier, Susie Hawthorn, one of the three people with whom I shared a room, had been fetched and given a final warning. One more false step— she wasn't the most industrious of students— and she would be kicked out of the JGH. It had put the fear of failure in all of us.

I briefly checked the state of my hair in the mirror; it was wavy and it tended to curl up and get messy in humid environments. If I looked somewhat presentable, that might get me a couple extra points in the director's opinion. I was always up for getting a couple extra points. Especially this close to my goals.

"I don't knoooooooow…" he sang again.

"Please stop."

"I don't know," he repeated, "but better not risk it."

I nodded in thanks and made my way to Mrs. Lippett's office. The charity that had provided my scholarship resided in one of those old family homes, the ones that had had absurd amounts of money but lost it and had to sell their house. Mrs. Lippett's office was right next to the entrance, in what I imagined was a room originally meant to entertain guests. I didn't bother to turn on the hallway lights as I rushed to her; the charity was run on a tight budget, and lights were ruthlessly turned off unless absolutely necessary. Marching toward the Students' Administration and Advisory office did not make the cut. I walked in the dark, familiar with the twists and turns of the place I'd called home for the past six years.

A powerful stream of light struck me as I turned the last corner. I blinked several times in an attempt to adapt, a silhouette imprinting itself in my retina— someone was at the main door, backlit by what seemed to be bright LED car lights.

The person on the way out cast a long shadow, their arms and legs elongating disproportionately over the walls and floor. It was a masculine figure, with broad shoulders and evident height, made even clearer by the stretched lines of his shadow reaching towards me in the hall.

The figure left a solid outline embossed behind my eyelids, right before they closed the door behind themselves and disappeared. I smiled. The view made me think of friendly shadow monsters and mysterious people… there was something sexy to it, yet hard to identify. Something in the line of their shoulders and narrow hips; the silhouette I could still see in my mind moved with confidence and even charisma, and if I could meet them I'd say… wow. That was an instant response— and completely out of place. Still, awareness pooled deep in my belly, reminding me I had not had a partner in a few months.

I shook my head and pushed myself to move again. My steps brought a subtle echo to the darkened hallway, now that the main door ahead had closed.

Nothing I could do about the sudden need knocking inside. I was the queen of going months between one-night stands; I was too busy for more, but they were a great way to believe for a second I was a standard-issue young person. The kind that had a sexual drive and enjoyed fun, low risk, low commitment hookups for the release of it. No emotional investment, thank you very much. Three to four times a year.

Less of late, to be honest. It was fine. Easier that way than risking the grief of losing someone so important again.

I knocked on Mrs. Lippett's door.

"Come in," her voice reached from inside.

I stepped into the meticulous and stuffy office and closed the door behind me.

"Did you want to see me, Mrs. Lippett?"

"Yes, Eleanora. Perfect timing. Please sit."

I controlled my face not to show my surprise; those were words more welcoming than I'd ever heard from the director.

She studied me with a serious wrinkle between her brows. I waited and stopped myself from squirming.

Mrs. Lippett nodded once and began one of the longest oratory moments of my life.

"As you surely know, the John Grier Home Charity prides itself on providing educational opportunities to underprivileged and underserved populations. You've enjoyed six years of generous financial and mentoring support, which have allowed you to graduate with your Master's Degree in Early Childhood Education with honors."

I knew better than to interrupt, argue, or correct, but I imagined myself responding anyway.

I've studied hard, ma'am. I cleaned the place or cooked according to your schedule; I did the so-called internships you wanted me to over the summers I was here. I have done my duty.

Mrs. Lippett continued, completely unaware of my thoughts.

"As per our usual schedule, today was the monthly board meeting. In it, we discussed the current student situation, including your name among those who will have completed the maximum number of education years supported by the organization. Part of this process is to provide a report to the Board, to summarize the years of your involvement with the John Grier Home. At this time, we let them know if you obtained any of the grants for which we supported applications. Unfortunately, you did not receive any grants or scholarships."

My blood froze. Everything inside went still. I had gotten the answer I had been waiting for, but it did not go as expected. Ahead of schedule and devastating.

When Mrs. Lippett continued, I heard her through a fog.

"Don't feel too bad about your rejection, Eleanora. Those few spots are disputed among many students in a position such as yours, and only two John Grier students have been successful in all the time this institution has existed."

I blinked several times again, and not in response to a bright source of light this time.

The news— It was fine. Totally fine. I would still start my own business. It would just take longer than I'd hoped.

Mrs. Lippett continued her speech, still appearing completely oblivious to the havoc inside of me.

"Now listen carefully, for what I'm about to say will change your life." Mrs. Lippett let her words hang in the air for several seconds; all I could hear was the beat of my own heart in my ears.

My cranial arteries were about to explode with suppressed cries for an explanation, when Mrs. Lippett continued.

"There is a board member who will sometimes pick a graduating student and provide an opportunity better than any of those grants and scholarships you didn't get. He doesn't always do it— I have yet to crack the code, if you allow my mannerism, of what makes him tick. He's an eccentric man—" she shook her head with a hint of disapproval in the arc of her eyebrows— "but he'll randomly get an interest in one of our students and offer access to an initiative only a select few can join."

I gulped. I was a chatty person and had long suspected some degree of neurospiciness, and it took all that I had not to interrupt her.

Fuck those grants who didn't pick me. This was the start to my life. I could taste it. I just needed Mrs. Lippett to stop dangling the ticket an inch too far from my grasp.

"You see," she continued, "he is one of the few people in the country who can sponsor students into a very selective incubator. He has set several rules around it that we must follow at all times. I suspect it is because, traditionally, only those with the right connections get accepted, and John Grier pupils are not likely to meet those requirements."

The evil woman took a moment to sip from her tea, leaving me in suspense. I bit the inside of my cheek not to show just how tormented I was by waiting.

She finally continued, "The ten young entrepreneurs who receive invitations obtain direct, high-level mentorship the likes of which you can't properly imagine. For six months, participants study how to network, how to build a business plan, how to present such a plan, and how to get started with your company. I am not sure of the specifics but, if you're successful, you may get connected to an international network of investors that may provide a generous financial seed. If this happens, you'll receive additional coaching to help you negotiate and get you properly started toward success."

My body's temperature lessened several degrees. If I understood her correctly, Mrs. Lippett suggested that I… that maybe this board member had taken an interest in… me?

Her lips pressed together into a thin line. "Mr— that is, Mr. Smith, like I said, is a unique person. During the meeting today, he read a few student reports, but really focused on yours most of the time. After the other trustees left, he requested a meeting with me, in which he informed me that he had chosen you as the recipient of this great favor. He discussed the requirements at length and left only a few minutes ago— you might have caught a glimpse of him on your way here."

"Yes, ma'am." My throat was tight and my voice hoarse; I wasn't sure if it was out of overwhelm and bewilderment, or because I'd been forced to sit in silence for so long. Likely both.

"I cannot stress this enough, Eleanora— you're extremely fortunate to have caught Mr— Smith's attention. His offer is incredibly generous." She offered me a folder. "The details are all here but, the gist of it is, he's extending a full-ride sponsorship. You'll move to San Francisco and live in one of his condos, rent-free. The students for whom he's done this before have said it's not a particularly grand place, but that it's comfortable. You'll receive a monthly stipend to facilitate your integration into the incubator group as an equal, and enough that you will not have to work to supplement your income. Your full-time occupation will be to prepare and study according to the fast-paced schedule of this program. If you're kicked out of the incubator, you'll have two weeks to find another place to stay, so I trust you understand that this is not entirely a fantasy. You'll have to work hard."

"Yes, ma'am." My hands shook; the corner of the folder vibrated with the force of it.

"As you might have guessed, Mr. Smith is not this trustee's real name." Mrs. Lippett's eyes closed with as much of a beatifical look as I had ever seen on someone's face, her hands steepled under her chin. "He does not wish this investment to be repaid and he does not need recognition. All he asks is a monthly email summarizing your experience with a report attached of what you've learned; the steps you've taken and plan to follow in the upcoming weeks, until your next email. At this point I'm supposed to ask, do you know the names of any of the trustees on the board?"

It took several seconds for me to realize Mrs. Lippett asked me a question. When my synapses finally fired in the right order, it surprised me to realize I had no idea who was a part of the board.

"No, ma'am."

"While I can't fully appreciate your disinterest in the organization that has taken you so far in your career, this is factually the best answer. Mr. Smith has added a legal document that requests you do not look at the public list of John Grier's trustees, for there's a small chance you might deduce who your patron is by a process of elimination. The previous students who participated in this opportunity had no problem following this rule, and I expect you won't either."

"No, ma'am."

"He will never respond to your emails and might not read them, as he's a busy man, but you have to write them. Any necessary form of communication will occur through his personal assistant, Mr. Griggs. You'll be respectful and thoughtful, showcasing the education you've enjoyed to date."

I stood. Mrs. Lippett had to be almost done, and too much restless energy ran through my limbs to sit any longer. I took a step back, but the director stopped me with a hand gesture. I had always known that Mrs. Lippett liked to hear herself speak, but if I wasn't allowed to go hide in my room, I might hyperventilate and faint right there.

She pursed her mouth. "Read the documents in the folder tonight. If you agree with Mr. Smith's terms, send an email to Mr. Griggs and he'll schedule your flight for the day after your convocation. We're proud of having been your benefactor for all these years, and a small part in Mr. Smith's offer to you. Rarely does someone with your circumstances receive such an opportunity—"

"Yes, thank you so much, ma'am." I took another step back and, patting the door behind me, found the handle and opened it. "Thank you. Yes. Most gracious. I'll go read the documents— have a good night!"

"Don't ruin this opportunity, Eleanora—"

Mrs. Lippett's eyes opened wide, but I ignored it. I ran to my bedroom which, by some miracle, was empty, and read deep into the night.