Wild and Rich

Chapter 1

Beep! Beep!

I felt a hand grab the back of my coat, yanking me backwards onto the sidewalk just as a honking car sped past. I turned to thank the older man, who simply huffed with an annoyed, "watch where you're going."

A typical day in the Big Apple. Speeding cars, hundreds of people rushing to and fro, and the absolute chaotic aura that hung over the city every year for the month of December. Why everyone waited until the end of the year to do their holiday shopping was beyond me. Prices only went up as the months went by; I'd done all my shopping in September. Of course, I also forgot what I bought. That made it more fun though, I think. I was equally surprised when people opened their gifts from me.

The light changed. We moved like a herd of animals, crossing the street as one mass. As per the way my life went, I slipped on the lone circle of ice in the middle of the crosswalk, grabbing someones shoulder to save me from the fall. The woman shook me off with a string of profanities.

Yup, that's me- clumsy, plain Alice Smith. Twenty-four years old with everyday dirty blond hair, blue eyes and standing at five feet four inches. I blended in well. Or I would, if I didn't constantly draw attention with my dubious balance.

This mornings events weren't new to me- winter was the worst time for me. As my mother said, I could find something to trip over on a flat surface. I was lucky to make it to work in one piece everyday. Yes, I could take a cab- if I had the money to spend, which I didn't. Walking was hazardous, but money was tight, too tight to waste on a cab when the closest Starbucks was only three blocks away.

Once again, I'd forgotten it was my turn to pick up the coffee. My co-worker (and best friend), Stacey, had offered to let me borrow her car, but we both knew it would have taken me twice as long with this traffic. The cold wind bit into my skin and seeped right down to my bones. My worn brown coat did nothing to shield me from it, nor did my faded black wool hat. I'd given up on wearing mittens a long time ago. With the amount of times I fell daily, they always ended up wet and icy rather than warm. I pulled my hands into my coat sleeves instead.

My phone buzzed as I entered Starbucks. I pulled it out with numb fingers.

Stacey: You make it alive?

I smiled, moving to the back of the line as I texted her back.

Alice: Barely. Only had one near death experience.

Stacey: Only one? New record. Congrats!

Alice: Yay for me. Be back soon.

Stacey: Okay.

I tucked my phone away. The line moved slowly, which wasn't a big deal to me. It gave me a little extra time to try to mentally organize my day. Stacey and I both worked as journalists for Harry Henworths Inc. It wasn't a huge company- not even one of the top ten. But it was a job that paid the bills and put food in the fridge. Journalism was Stacey's dream job and she had big plans to move up from HHI to bigger and better things. I supported her fully because she was damn good at her job. I, however, was only hired because Stacey referred me for the position after my book release had crashed and burned.

I sighed. I'd worked so hard for nothing. Taken, and aced, all the right classes in college, wrote draft after draft, edited and paid someone for a great cover. After two years, I had nothing to show for it. I was grateful to my friend for getting me a job when my dream went downhill, but being a journalist just wasn't the same. I lived for creating fantastic worlds and characters. Interviewing grumpy, and sometimes creepy, old businessmen was not something I saw myself doing forever.

"Next!" the girl behind the counter called.

"Two everything bagels and two coffees with double shots of caramel, please."

She rang in my order. I paid, then moved to the side to wait. I shoved the self-pity aside. So my dream hadn't worked out. Oh well. Lots of people were stuck in nine to five jobs they hated because their dreams hadn't worked out. It's not like I couldn't find a new goal to work towards. Yet, even as I was thinking that, I saw the scene in front of me as I would if I still had the motivation to write. The girl behind the counter had short, spiky black hair and multiple facial piercings. I turned her into a goblin, selling potions for gold to unsuspecting folk. Little did they know, the potions did the opposite of what they were intended for. The young man ordering now was the brave and handsome prince, maybe the lost prince of the kingdom, a rogue who didn't know his true family. He'd slay the goblin and undo all the rotten spells. . .

"Hey! Do you want this or not?"

Goblin girl shoved my order at me. I barely caught one of the drinks before it could slide onto the floor.

"Thanks," I said sourly. She rolled her eyes.

The bag with the bagels went into my oversized purse. The coffees would keep my hands warm on the way back to the office, which was a plus. Too bad that I turned without looking behind me. I ran straight into a broad chest; both cup lids popped off, the hot liquid toppling out and drenching our fronts. The good news was that my coat took the damage. The bad news was that he wasn't wearing a coat. I was frozen for exactly six seconds, staring in shock at the once white sweater that now had coffee soaked into it.

"Oh, my God, I am so sorry!" I exclaimed. "Here, let me-" I whipped around and grabbed a handful of napkins off the countertop. Without thinking, I started to rub at the stains. On a total stranger. A stranger who hadn't said one word to me yet.

"It's not coming out," I said. "Oh Christ. Okay. I am so sorry! Here, take this!" I reached into my purse and grabbed my wallet, pulling out all the cash I had on me. A grand total of thirty-six dollars. "This is all I have. Please take it. It should be enough to get it washed. It looks expensive, so you'll probably want to get it washed, right?"

I held out the money, finally lifting my chin to anxiously look at who I'd run into. And then I froze again.

He was gorgeous.

Black hair that stood up in that 'just rolled out of bed' way, perfectly clear, flawless skin, and eyes the colour of hot chocolate. His lips were turned up in an amused smile, almost a smirk, pink against his tan complexion. His beard was trimmed professionally, just the right length. I gulped.

Had I just spilled coffee all over a freaking demi-god?

"Are you okay?" His voice was honey. No, melted chocolate, matching his eyes.

"Uh," was my brilliant response.

It was then that I noticed everyone was watching. Goblin girl was laughing not-so-subtly behind the counter, and I was aware of others joining in. Embarrassment colored me from my neck to my hairline. I ducked my head, shoved the money in his hand and ran.