Taking Tiffany by MK Harkins Page A

he’d even twisted that.
    The day I’d said goodbye to Savannah, I wasn’t sure who’d felt the agony more. We were both a mess.  Savannah never had a hair out of place—a southern girl to her core. But on that day, she’d cried anguished tears and paced. Her perfect hair and makeup—gone. Her happy manners—gone. Her love for me—still there. Which made our break-up so much worse. Her father placed her into the unimaginable situation where she was forced to pick—either her family or me.
    She chose family. She loved them more. Or maybe she loved the lifestyle more. Back then, I was a poor college student. I’d majored in business and had only just started working with Braydon. She had no idea I’d be successful. I’ll never know if it would’ve made a difference.
    Tiffany deserved to know about my past. I needed to tell her about my parents before she found out on her own. I dreaded that conversation. I’d avoided the topic at all costs. But I’d come clean tonight.
    I’d tell her about Savannah. My ex-girlfriend ripped my heart out and didn’t bother giving it back. Although, that wasn’t really true. My heart had been in hibernation for a long time now, but it was coming back to life. I could feel it. The first few years after our break up, I’d been sure it was dead. I’d felt nothing. Following that, the pain started, and it was excruciating—which meant my heart had come back to life, full-force. The past year, it began to heal. Bruised and battered, it started to beat again.
    This time, for someone else

Chapter Fifteen
    Angela
     
    Six Months Earlier
     
    I MADE MY grand exit from the office and walked toward the cafeteria. Damn. Where the hell was I going?
    The skinny little creature/girl hung on my leg, making it difficult to walk. I looked closer. Was that snot she leaked onto my jeans? Oh, no you don’t. Again, I tried to pry her body from my leg. Those twiggy, little fingers of hers were strong.
    “You’re a stubborn girl, you know that?” I whispered.
    She looked up at me then, her eyes wide open and looking scared. Our eyes stayed locked. I couldn’t look away. What had she gone through to look and act like this? A vivid flashback of my pink and ivory room at home came to mind, and I felt … ashamed. I never appreciated that room. Or maybe I had…once. But I couldn’t draw the memory of it back.
    I shook my head. I wasn’t here for this. I was only here for punishment. I didn’t need or want to learn the “lesson” my parents insisted on.  I will not learn. I will not change a thing about myself. I will not allow them to win.
    I needed a strategy with the leg-clinger.
    “Here’s the deal. You can stay on my leg for a little while longer. Well, until you’re more comfortable. But when I have to use the bathroom or shower? You, little one, are coming off. I don’t care if I have to throw cold water on you. Are we in agreement?”
    Those huge eyes stared back. God, I couldn’t stand how her face caved in under her cheekbones. She closed her eyes, placed her head back on my leg, and gripped tighter. But, she nodded. Now were making progress.
    “Also, this is my first day. I’m telling you right now, I don’t know what I’m doing. Are you sure you want to stick with me?”
    Another nod.
    “Okay,” I told her.  Shit. “These Romanian names are confusing. I think there are almost fifty kids here. I’ll never remember all the names. How about I give you an American name so I can remember you?”  I’d never forget, but her name was probably attached to some pretty horrific memories. I’d put my parents half million dollar investment in my education to good use. Psych 101. A new name, a new beginning. “How about Ivy?  It means strong.” And stubborn.
    For the first time, a ghost of a smile hinted on her lips. Moisture pricked behind my eyes. Stop it. It’s jet lag. You need some food.
    “Have you been to the cafeteria yet, Ivy? Because I don’t know where the