As long as she did not start to rely on him too much, she told herself, then her heart would still be safe.
Clinging to that fragile sense of self-control, Isabella gripped the recording pen and walked toward the small job fair set up near the edge of campus. The booths were crude, the banners crooked, and the crowd thin, but desperation had a way of lowering standards.
"Miss, are you here looking for a job?" someone asked.
She clenched her jaw, reached into her bag, and took out almost all of her remaining savings. "No," she said calmly. "I'm here to recruit someone."
The other party was startled. "May I ask what position you're hiring for?"
She didn't hesitate. "Around thirty years old. About one point eight meters tall. Has money. Most importantly, a magnetic voice and good looks. I need him as an escort for a period of time."
Her words were blunt, bordering on absurd.
