Chapter 2: Did Someone Call You?

Mia's POV

I'm biting into a piece of toast when I pull open the front door, and I almost choke on it.

Alex is standing there. Deep blue sweater, khaki pants, hair perfectly combed. Morning sunlight hits him just right, making him look stupidly good.

"Oh wow, you're on time! Come in, come in. I just need two more minutes. Want some coffee?"

"I'm fine, thanks."

I wave him inside while hopping on one foot trying to get my shoe on. I nearly face-plant into the couch.

"So I looked up driver salaries last night. Turns out I might've lowballed you. Average in SF is like sixty grand. But don't worry, I'm not reducing your pay. A deal's a deal."

His mouth does this little twitch thing. "Very principled of you."

"Right? My dad always says integrity matters." I'm talking fast, grabbing my bag, checking my phone. "Plus you saved me yesterday. If you hadn't agreed to drive, I would've been so late."

Alex just stands there, totally calm, with this hint of amusement that makes me even more nervous.

I lock the door and follow him to the car. He opens the back door like it's the most natural thing in the world.

The car glides onto the highway, smooth and quiet. I'm watching the Bay Area fly past when my chest tightens.

"Can I be honest with you?"

His voice comes back steady. "Of course."

"I'm kind of nervous about this morning's meeting. My boss wants me to pitch to this new client, and I just... I don't know if I'm good enough."

I bite my lip, fingers playing with my bag strap. I don't know why I'm telling him this. I barely know the guy.

"Why would you think that?"

I let out this bitter laugh. "I don't know. I didn't go to Stanford or Berkeley. I went to Texas State. I don't have the right background. Sometimes I feel like everyone can tell I don't belong."

"Education doesn't determine worth. Results do." His tone is matter-of-fact. "If you're good at your job, which I'm guessing you are since you're still employed in this market, then you belong exactly where you are."

"Really? You think so?"

"I know so."

Why does he sound so sure? Like it's a fact, not an opinion. And the way he's looking at me through the rearview mirror makes me feel safe. Weird word for it, but I can't think of a better one.

I take a deep breath. My shoulders relax.

"Thanks, Alex. You're actually really good at pep talks. Ever considered being a life coach?"

The corner of his mouth lifts. "I'll add it to my list."

The car pulls up to my building. I'm gathering my stuff when something catches my eye.

Alex's hand is resting on the steering wheel. There's this watch glinting in the morning light.

I grab his wrist. "Wait. Is that one of those fancy Swiss watches?"

He looks down. "Yes."

"Alex! Oh my God. Please tell me you didn't buy this. Please tell me someone gave it to you, or you found it, or..."

I pull his hand closer, squinting. The polishing looks perfect. The weight feels real. The second hand moves like water.

"I bought it. Why?"

"Because even the knockoffs cost like five hundred bucks! And you can totally tell it's fake!" I lean in. "Look, I can see the... okay, I actually can't see anything wrong with it, but trust me, people who know watches can tell."

He's trying not to smile. "I see."

God, this fake is really well made. Must've cost him a fortune. Poor Alex probably got scammed by some dealer who convinced him he was getting a "high-quality replica."

"You can't wear this to pick me up, okay? What if my coworkers see? They'll think you're trying too hard. Just wear a normal watch. Those are like fifty bucks and actually look nice."

"You want me to wear a fifty-dollar watch instead."

"Yes! I'm trying to help you. The Bay Area is full of people pretending to be rich. Don't be one of them. Be authentic."

Something flickers across his face. "Authentic. Right."

I let go of his wrist. He looks like he's holding back some big emotion.

I pat his shoulder. "Trust me on this. I've lived here long enough to know."

I'm about to get out when I notice his sweater again. I reach out and touch the sleeve. It's impossibly soft.

"Wait. Is that cashmere?"

"Yes."

"Where'd you get it? Please say it was on sale."

He pauses. "It's from an Italian brand."

I whip out my phone and Google it immediately. When I see the price range, my face goes pale.

"Alex! This brand is insane! You must've gotten it like eighty percent off, right?"

"Something like that."

I grab his hand again, totally serious now. "Listen to me. I know you want to look professional, but you can't keep wasting money like this. You're working class, like me. Well, like I used to be. We need to save, not throw it away on designer labels nobody even recognizes."

He must've blown all his savings on this stuff. I need to help him.

His voice goes soft. "Thank you for looking out for me, Mia."

My cheeks heat up. "Well, that's what friends do, right?"

"Right." He smiles, and it makes my heart skip.

I finally get out, waving over my shoulder. "See you at lunch! Twelve thirty sharp!"

---

The taqueria is tiny. Walls covered in faded posters, plastic chairs, paper plates. Alex stands in the doorway, clearly out of his element.

"I love this place. Best tacos in SF. And only twelve bucks for three! That's a real deal."

He looks around. "It's colorful."

"Oh God, you're one of those people who only eats at fancy places, aren't you? Trust me, expensive doesn't always mean better. My dad taught me that."

I pull him to a table by the window. The server hands us laminated menus with grease stains. Alex takes his politely.

"Tell me about yourself. Where are you from?"

"Boston area."

"Oh! East Coast! That's so cool. Did you go to college?"

"I went to a tech school in Massachusetts."

I almost spit out my water. "Whoa! That's amazing! What'd you study?"

"Computer science."

"Then why are you driving? Not that there's anything wrong with that! But with a degree like that, couldn't you work in tech?"

Something flashes in his expression. "It's complicated. Let's just say I needed a change of pace."

I nod. "I get that. Sometimes you just need to step away, you know? Life gets overwhelming."

Maybe something terrible happened in the tech industry. Got laid off? Burned out? Tech school graduates must be under so much pressure.

The tacos arrive. I bite into mine, and suddenly my eyes are getting hot. I don't know why.

My voice goes quiet. "My mom died when I was ten. Cancer. It was just me and my dad after that."

Alex puts down his taco, giving me his full attention. I'm staring at my plate.

"He worked so hard to give me a good life. Sixteen-hour days in the oil fields, in like a hundred-degree heat. He never complained. Not once. He'd come home covered in grease and dirt, but he'd always smile and ask about my day."

My voice cracks. "That's why I need to make him proud. I need to prove that all his sacrifices were worth it. That I'm not just some Texas girl who doesn't belong."

"Mia, look at me."

I lift my head. His expression holds something I've never seen before. Pure tenderness.

"Anyone who raised a daughter like you should be incredibly proud. You defended a stranger yesterday. You worry about other people's finances. You're kind, genuine, and brave. Those are rare."

My heart feels like it just got hit. Why does the way he looks at me make me feel actually worth being seen?

"You really think so?"

"I know so." No hesitation.

We stare at each other for a few seconds. The restaurant noise fades away. Just him and my pounding heart.

I cough, my face burning. "Um, your taco's getting cold."

He smiles. "Right."

Alex parks in front of my building. I'm digging through my bag when someone walks out. A man in an expensive suit, maybe forty, obviously a tech executive.

He sees Alex and freezes. His mouth drops open like he's seen a ghost. He starts walking over.

"Mr. Ster..."

Alex's head snaps around, his gaze sharp. He doesn't say a word, but the energy he radiates makes the man shut up immediately.

Alex gives the tiniest head shake. Clear. Definitive.

The man stands there, confused as hell, but he gets it. He looks away fast and hurries off.

I finally find my phone and look up. "What? Did someone call you?"

"No, just checking the time."

"Thanks for lunch, Alex. Today was nice. Really nice. You're easy to talk to."

He watches me. "The pleasure was mine."

I push open the door, wave goodbye, and head into the building. I don't notice the executive's panicked expression at all.

Alex watches her disappear inside. That was Thompson, his VP of Business Development. Someone who's seen him countless times.

This game is more dangerous than he thought. But also more interesting.

He glances at the watch Mia thinks is fake, and his mouth curves. Outside, the executive stands in the distance, phone in hand, finger hovering over the screen. Should he send a message and ask?

Finally, he sighs and puts the phone back. "The boss's private business isn't mine to handle."

But his face is still confused. That was Alexander Sterling III, one of the world's youngest tech billionaires. Why would he be driving an ordinary girl to work?