Free The Billionaire's STEP Surrogate by Nikki Wild Page A

the teller, her hands trembling.
     
    “Can I help you?” the older woman said, her straw-colored hair pulled into a tight bun at her nape. She regarded Nicole coolly, and she swore she almost saw a small sneer forming at the corner of the woman’s thin, pale lips. Maybe she shouldn’t have rushed past the line without being called for, even if there had been no one standing in front of her to object.
     
    “I-I don’t know,” she stammered, shakily pulling her ID from her wallet and thrusting it under the glass. “I’m Nicole Perkins. Account number four-two-seven-three-three. I think there’s some kind of problem…”
     
    The teller—whose name, as indicated by the tag on her blouse, was Margery—eyed Nicole a moment before inputting her data into the computer. She moved through a few screens before one of her ashen eyebrows raised.
     
    “Twenty dollars and seventy-eight cents,” she intoned, much to Nicole’s dismay. “My, that’s a low balance.”
     
    “I know,” she answered, chewing the dead skin off her lower lip. She’d been hoping that there was some kind of system error, some other reason why so much of her money was missing, but judging by the nearly vacant lobby and the calm indifference with which Margery was treating her, that was not the case.
     
    Margery was silent until Nicole spoke again. “When was the last withdrawal made?” she asked her.
     
    “This morning,” the teller answered. “Around nine thirteen, by Jude…”
     
    “Wilkinson,” Nicole said breathlessly. She closed her eyes. “I know.”
     
    Jude had waited for her to leave that morning before going to the bank and withdrawing almost all of her available cash. The row they’d had the night before had been unusually heated, but never in a million years had she considered that he’d do something like this to her in retribution.
     
    What would she find when she returned to the apartment? Would he even be there? Or would she walk through the door to find all his things missing—and possibly some of hers—and their home trashed in his vindictive wake?
     
    “Son of a bitch,” she murmured, tears welling in her eyes. She turned her attention back to the teller. “Can you, um, put a hold on the account? His name, only. I still want access to it, if that’s possible.”
     
    “You wish to remove his name from the account?”
     
    “Yes,” Nicole told her. “This… wasn’t an authorized withdrawal.”
     
    Margery sniffed. “Well, if his name was on the account, then it most certainly was authorized by you at one point, Miss Perkins,” she said. “It’s not the bank’s fault.”
     
    Nicole clenched her fists. Her whole world was spiraling out of control. She was in no mood for some bank teller trying to cover her own ass right now.
     
    “Whatever,” she snapped. “Just make sure Mr. Wilkinson’s name is taken off the account.” Hot, angry tears were beginning to slip down her face, leaving long, iridescent streaks across her fair, freckled skin. “I have to go.”
     
    She turned away from the snooty bitch manning the counter and wiped her eyes on her sleeve, leaving dark streaks of mascara on her sweater. Great. Just great. And now she couldn’t even afford dry cleaning.
     
    She crossed over the threshold to the outside world again and fished her cell phone out of her purse. She tried calling Jude, hoping she could somehow change his mind, but his phone number had already been disconnected. He must have been planning this for a long time, she realized. If he’d only left because of what they’d said to one another last night, she doubted it would have been this well executed. Jude didn’t do well on the fly. This had to have been a long time coming. He’d just gone to great lengths to ensure she was blindsided by it.
     
    But could she really say she hadn’t known, hadn’t at least sensed that what they had was coming to a bitter, messy end? Could Nicole truly claim that she’d had