I was thirty-two when I picked up my first broke college boy. I was driving past the university when I saw him, Leo, holding a girl in his arms. His eyes were red-rimmed, a portrait of wounded pride. "Please," he choked out, "don't think I'm dirty..." It was a straightforward arrangement. A business transaction. So why did he make it sound like I was the one corrupting him? If he felt so dirty, there were plenty of others who wouldn't. I took a long drag from my cigarette and blew the smoke out the window. My eyes landed on a blond kid swaggering down the sidewalk, decked out in head-to-toe knockoffs. I nodded towards him. "Ask that one," I told my driver, "if he's interested in a sugar momma." 1 Eason was in my office by the afternoon. Sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows on the thirty-second floor, glinting off his Balenciaga t-shirt, his Yohji Yamamoto pants, and his Louis Vuitton sneakers. Fake. Fake. And fake. But damn, if he didn't have a pretty face. He was nothing like Leo, who had that cold, clean-cut look, an air of untouchable pride. Eason was more like something manufactured, a walking plastic surgery template. Exquisite, cheap, and with a hustler's glint in his eye. But I’d had my fill of fine dining. Tonight, I was in the mood for some greasy takeout. They were both selling themselves, so why bother with the one who acted like he was above it all? The moment he opened his mouth, I knew I’d made the right choice. "Heard you were looking to adopt?" He grinned. "Should I call you Mom right now?" He caught on fast. A little too fast. But I wasn't into that kind of roleplay. I could already see the entire trajectory of our relationship flashing before my eyes. Today, he’d have me launch his career. Tomorrow, he'd be begging for a leading role. The day after, our arrangement would leak, and he’d be on his knees, pleading for me to bury the scandal. Perfect. This was exactly what I wanted. I ignored him, flipping through the file my assistant, Ms. Evans, had prepared. He was from some forgotten town in the middle of nowhere. Family wasn't poor, certainly better off than Leo's alcoholic father and gambling-addict mother. His grades were average, a far cry from Leo's scholarships. But he was a good two inches taller than Leo. I glanced up at him. He beamed at me, a perfect eight-tooth smile. He was handsome, no doubt, but the fawning was a little much. I pursed my lips, a flicker of distaste crossing my features. "How many? Men or women?" Eason’s expression didn't change. Not a hint of shame or offense. "Just you, boss!" Bullshit. "Ms. Evans will take you to a clinic for a full check-up," I said flatly. "If you're clean, be here in a week." "You got it, boss." He practically skipped out of my office. As he turned, I caught a glimpse of his perfectly sculpted ass. I wondered for a moment if he was wearing pads. 2 A week later, Eason hadn't shown up yet, but Leo did. He was wearing his usual uniform: a shirt washed to a faded gray, worn-out jeans, and canvas sneakers. Clean-cut and handsome, the very picture of the noble, struggling student. He’d gotten off the bus. Couldn't even be bothered to splurge on a cab. It really made me wonder where the thirty thousand dollars I gave him every month went. Don't get me wrong. He wasn't here to see me. I was usually the one who went to him. He was working his part-time job at the coffee shop on the ground floor of my building. As usual, his looks were already attracting a giggling girl asking for his number. Leo turned her down, saying he already had someone he liked. Back in the day, I might have been arrogant enough to think he meant me. I was beautiful, rich, and generous—emphasis on the last one. Not liking me was like not liking money. It wasn't like I was asking him to love me 'til death do us part. We were adults. After everything I'd given him, a little display of affection wasn't too much to ask. Anything less was just having his cake and eating it too. I walked in and found a seat, but Leo didn't notice me. Just then, a meticulously dressed girl walked in. The moment Leo saw her, he froze. She wore a chic tweed suit and a Miu Miu clip in her hair, projecting an unmistakable old-money vibe. I hadn't gotten a good look at her that day at the university. Now, I saw her face clearly. I mentally scrolled through the city’s upper crust but couldn't place her. While my mind was wandering, Leo's face had turned a deep shade of crimson. I heard him ask, his voice barely a whisper, "Are you here... for me?" The girl lifted her chin. "No. I just heard the coffee here was good." If Leo had a tail, it would have been drooping on the floor. "Well, recommend something," she said. He immediately launched into a detailed explanation of every coffee on the menu, describing the origin of the beans and the flavor profiles with painstaking care. The people in line behind her grew impatient and left. The girl, however, seemed to be listening to none of it, finally pointing to the house special. Leo, ever attentive, explained how to drink it, warning her it was a bit bitter. He was a completely different person from the man I knew—so humble he was practically bowing. I wasn't angry. Just... confused. Why wasn't he like this with me? I was the one signing his checks. A moment later, it hit me, and I let out a soft laugh. He seemed to believe that his youth and my thirty grand a month—plus the condo and countless gifts—was an equal exchange. The men in my family have a tradition of keeping lovers. I'd seen it all: college girls, starlets, professionals. Just last month, my uncle nearly had a baby scare and paid three hundred thousand in severance. A sponsor as generous and easy on the eyes as me was a rare find. A willing exchange didn't mean he wasn't getting the better end of the deal. I used to spoil Leo, so I never sweated the small stuff. But he’d taken my money and stood me up multiple times, claiming he had to tutor, work his part-time job, or deal with student council or lab projects. I never got mad. I even had my housekeeper deliver homemade soup to him. Once, my father saw me arranging it and warned me, "Don't get in too deep." My indulgence seemed to have convinced everyone—including, at times, myself—that my feelings for him were something special. Ridiculous. Before I kicked my brother out of the country to take over as CEO, I’d never even been in a real relationship. Not that I ever wanted one. This was getting boring. I stood up and left the coffee shop. As I pushed the door open, the little bell above it chimed. From behind the counter, I thought I felt a pair of eyes on me. 3 That night, Eason arrived at my villa. To my surprise, his medical report was spotless. Clean, healthy, not a single issue. Unlike last time, he wasn’t covered in flashy, fake logos. He was dressed simply: a white t-shirt, jeans, and sneakers. His hair, previously shellacked with gel, fell softly over his eyes. Ms. Evans had probably told him to copy Leo’s style. I frowned, but before I could say anything, he'd pulled his shirt off. A chiseled eight-pack, perfectly defined. I wondered if it was real. He chuckled. "Boss, you don't like this look, do you?" he asked. "Me neither." With a surprising familiarity, he stepped closer and plucked the hair tie from my wrist. I flinched, feeling for a second like I was being hit on by some street punk. But he just used it to pull his semi-long hair back into a small bun at the nape of his neck. I breathed a sigh of relief. Then he added, "You hungry, boss? I can go down... and whip something up for you." The breath I’d just released hitched in my throat. He saw my housekeeper leaving the kitchen with a trash bag and sighed dramatically. "Looks like you've already eaten." I caught his meaning and hesitated. "You haven't eaten, have you? Do you want..." Before I could finish, he chirped, "Thanks!" He even came up with an excuse. "Gotta fuel up so I can serve you better later." "..." He proceeded to make and devour three bowls of noodles like a man starved. I glanced at his file again; he couldn't be that broke, could he? "There's steak in the fridge," I offered. Eason shook his head. "No steak. I have to earn my keep before I get paid." I understood. And for a moment, I felt a strange sense of satisfaction. I'd definitely made the right call. I needed someone who was hungry for this, in every sense of the word. Thirty minutes later, I regretted everything. The clean scent of his body wash enveloped me. The initial awkwardness melted into a searing heat that left no room for thought. And Eason, ever the professional, made sure to provide emotional support. "Damn, boss, you're gorgeous. I'm the one getting lucky here." "Claudia... this is incredible." I felt myself cheapen, like I'd just hired a farmhand for the night. The feeling lasted until the next morning. "Did you take something?" I asked, my voice hoarse with exhaustion. "What?" Eason blinked. "Oh! Yeah, I took ten. Just for you." Right. He hadn't taken anything. He was just bullshitting me to show what a diligent employee he was. Finally, at two in the afternoon, I dragged my aching body out of bed. I had a meeting I couldn't postpone; I'd have to crawl to the office if necessary. As I was getting dressed, I heard Eason speak from the bed. "Boss," he said, his voice soft. "Can you get me into acting?" 4 My fingers froze on the button of my blouse. I rolled my eyes, a practiced motion. "You've been here one night, and you're already making demands..." "Ten times," he corrected. "...That's not the point." My refusal seemed to deflate him. His doll-like face crumpled. He wrinkled his nose. "But, boss, you were the one who told me to stop." His reading comprehension was astounding. If I hadn't scouted him near the university, I'd have sworn he was illiterate. Wait. That didn't mean he actually went there. "Are you a student at A.U.?" I asked. Eason shook his head honestly. "Nope." I knew it. "In a couple of years, I'll send you abroad to get a degree," I said, dangling a vague, distant carrot. Eason looked like he wanted to say something but held back. "Boss... I don't want to study." I know, I know. You just want to be a star. I waved a dismissive hand, telling him to drop it. I had a meeting to get to. I slipped into the back of the car where Ms. Evans was waiting. Glancing back, I saw Eason leaning over the balcony, waving goodbye. A mess of blond hair, a face that was both pure and sinfully tempting. The sunlight caught him just right, making him look like some Grecian cupid. He also wasn't wearing any pants. Bold. "Come back soon, boss!" he yelled. I pressed my fingers to my temples. I could never let anyone know I was keeping... this. "Ms. Evans," I said, scanning a document, "send over some pieces from the spring collection for him." He didn't suit Leo's clean-cut, boy-next-door look. And parading around in those fakes was an embarrassment to me. Ms. Evans hesitated for a beat before agreeing. After the meeting, after dealing with a pack of old corporate wolves, I collapsed into my office chair, utterly drained. Usually, it wasn't this exhausting, but last night had taken its toll. The Rockefeller family was like most wealthy dynasties. My father and mother had a marriage of convenience; they had their own lives. They got along well enough, I suppose. Well enough to produce the three of us: my idiot older brother, my love-struck younger sister, and me, the perfect one. From birth, my life was a pre-written script. If I wanted more, I had to fight for it. I fought, and I won. But was this really what I wanted... "Boss." A sudden chill ran up my spine. My moment of existential dread was interrupted by a blond head popping up from under my desk. "...What are you doing?" Eason planted a kiss on my thigh. I stared at him, my face a blank mask. For the first time, a faint blush colored his sculpted cheeks. He looked almost shy, but his next words were anything but. "I learned a new trick this afternoon. Heard it's a favorite for CEOs and their assistants." Such a dedicated, ambitious boy toy. Eason took my silence as consent. Outside, the clouds drifted lazily by, momentarily speechless. Was I keeping him, or was he keeping me? He was really, really serious about breaking into Hollywood. Three hours later, the intercom buzzed. It was Ms. Evans. "Ms. Rockefeller, Mr. Leo is here to see you." 5 Well, I'll be damned. Today was supposed to be my weekly meeting with Leo. His showing up wasn't entirely unexpected, but he'd flaked on me so often, and besides, it was already eleven at night. I lit a cigarette. "I'm not available," I told Ms. Evans. "Send him home." There was a pause. "I told him that, Ms. Rockefeller. He insists on waiting until you're finished with your work." "He's in the conference room next to your office now." I frowned, about to say more, when a face leaned in and took a drag from the cigarette between my fingers. He immediately started choking, coughing like his lungs were trying to escape his chest. I hung up the phone. "Boss, you should quit smoking." Just as I thought Eason was switching tactics to the caring, sensitive type, he added, "You should smoke cigars. You'd look way cooler." The ash trembled and fell onto the marble floor. "Go home," I said. "I have to deal with something." Eason didn't ask questions. He just got up and left. A moment later, Leo was shown in. Still in the white shirt and jeans. I was getting tired of the look. He stood before me, his tone accusatory. "Claudia, I was fired." He seemed to assume I was the one who'd had the manager fire him. The coffee shop was mine, after all. He'd been "interning" there, a work-study gig that paid him fifty thousand a year. I raised an eyebrow. "And?" Leo's face soured. He stood ramrod straight, his hands balled into fists at his sides. "Did someone at the shop say something to you?" he snapped. "Hannah is just a classmate from my department! I was just doing my job! You can't just fire me for no reason!" "You rich people are always so high and mighty—" "Then I'll have them rehire you," I cut in. Leo's tirade stopped short. He clearly hadn't expected me to be so agreeable. "Oh. Well, then... that's fine." I smiled sweetly. "Same as the other interns. Fifteen bucks an hour. Interested?" Leo's eyes widened as if I'd just slapped him. He was silent for a few seconds. "Claudia, stop messing around." "I told you, there's nothing going on between Hannah and me!" Frustration crept into his voice. I studied him, and for the first time, he seemed... coarse. Unrefined. His skin wasn't as smooth as Eason's, his eyes weren't as bright, his lips weren't as pink, his nose wasn't as straight, his legs weren't as long, his abs weren't as hard... and his technique was terrible. Not that Eason was some master, but at least he was eager to learn. "Hannah?" The name was cute. I said it aloud, and Leo reacted as if I'd declared war. "Whatever you have planned, you direct it at me! She has nothing to do with this!" I found the whole thing hilarious. "And what, exactly, do you think I'm going to do to her?" I asked, my voice dripping with amusement. Suddenly, Leo's gaze locked onto something over my shoulder. His expression went blank, all the fight draining out of him, my question completely forgotten. I followed his line of sight. There, on the plush designer sofa, lay a pair of Calvin Klein briefs. They had been lying there quietly, listening to our entire conversation. 6 It’s a well-known fact that when you’re utterly speechless, you laugh. Leo finally turned his gaze back to me, just in time to see the smile spreading across my face. A moment ago, he’d been keeping his distance as if I were contagious. Now, he stormed over to my desk. "Are you that desperate, Claudia?" he snarled. "Just because I didn't see you for a month, you go and find that kind of man?" I wanted to say that Eason wasn't that kind of man. But I couldn't. He was exactly that kind of man. And then, Leo—the proud, struggling student who scorned the wealthy—actually had tears welling up in his eyes. "Do you have any idea how filthy guys like that are?" he shouted, his voice cracking. He reached for my wrist, more agitated than I had ever seen him. He seemed genuinely afraid I'd catch some disease. A glass on my desk toppled over, shattering on the floor. A knock came from the door. "Ms. Rockefeller?" Ms. Evans called out. "Do you need me to come in?" Leo was still ranting. "Claudia, you don't have to debase yourself like this just to make me jealous..." "Come in," I called out, my voice clear and steady. Ms. Evans entered, flanked by two bodyguards, each standing at a solid six-foot-three. They moved swiftly, positioning themselves between me and Leo, ready to intervene if he got violent. Leo stared at me in disbelief. I met his gaze with a half-smile. "Who gave you permission to speak to me like that?" Maybe I'd been too lenient as a sponsor. He seemed to have forgotten the nature of our relationship. The color drained from Leo's face. He never imagined I would use such a tone with him. He pressed his lips together. "We're equals..." I couldn't be bothered to listen to that nonsense. "If we're so equal, how come you're not paying me thirty thousand dollars a month?" Leo was rendered speechless. I arched an eyebrow. "You took the money, now do the work. You failed on that front." He looked at me as if he'd never heard me speak so bluntly, his eyes wide with shock. I had no more time for him. I stood up and walked away. Leo tried to follow, but the bodyguards blocked his path. As I left, I heard Ms. Evans behind me, calmly taking back the key card for my private elevator from him. "Mr. Leo," she said, her voice professionally cool, "next time you wish to see Ms. Rockefeller, please make an appointment."
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