Free Chance (The One More Night Series) by Christina Ross Page B

what it was.
    “Apparently, he’s loaded,” she said.  “Look at how many businesses and corporations he owns.  Good God.  The list is huge.  How old is this guy, anyway?”
    “He said that he was thirty-one.”
    “You don’t get this rich that fast at thirty-one.  I think Daddy might be dead, and Chance got the big seat.”
    “Is there anything on Wikipedia about him?” Elle asked.
    “Excellent question,” Brooke said, her fingers dancing across the keyboard.  “Bingo,” she said when his profile appeared on the Wikipedia site.  “So, let’s see—who is this sex machine?”  She started to skim the page.  “Born in Idaho.  Raised middle class.  Parents were farmers.  Class valedictorian.  Went to MIT on a full scholarship, but dropped out when he was twenty to create a company called SlimDisk, which was the precursor to the thumb drive.” 
    When she said that, all of us stopped cold.
    “The precursor to the what?” I asked.
    “The thumb drive,” she said.  “It says here that nine years ago, Microsoft bought his company and the technology for over three-hundred million dollars.  He was just twenty-two when he accepted the deal, and then he parlayed much of his earnings into creating Caldwell International.  Initially, that was comprised of mostly tech acquisitions.   Forbes wrote an article that lauded him for his business sense.  Five years ago, he was listed in the top spot in their yearly 30 Under 30 feature.”
    “You’re shitting me?” Elle said.
    “No.  Here’s a quote from him about how he became so successful:  ‘What’s been reinforced from the beginning is that it’s all about the team.  For someone starting out, I’d tell you to to surround yourself with the best and the brightest.  Don’t settle.  Since selling SlimDisk, I’ve had the tremendous pleasure of working with some of the most hard-working and most-dedicated people in the world.  My initial success might have begun with a piece of technology purchased by Microsoft, but my overall success comes straight down to my team.’”
    “Classy,” Elle said.
    But Brooke wasn’t finished—she was enthralled.  She kept skimming for more information.  “As Caldwell International grew, Chance and his board started to take over entire corporations, both domestic and international.  His personal net worth is listed here as being just under a billion.  But who knows when this information was last updated?  At this point, it could be more.”
    “So, Google his net worth,” Elle said. 
    Brooke did.  And when she did, she found an article dated only a few months ago that put Chance Caldwell firmly in the billion-dollar club. 
    “So, you slept with a billionaire,” Elle said.  “You’re such an over-achiever.”
    I knew nothing about the extent of his wealth when I went to his room with him, so I corrected her.  “I slept with someone whom I found attractive,” I said.  “And somebody who was kind to me.  I didn’t sleep with him because of his money.”
    “I was just joking.”
    “I know you were.  But it’s true.  I want it on the damned record.  OK, ladies, that’s all I’ve got.  And this girl needs to get some sleep, or she’s never going to be ready for work later tonight.”
    Or to put all of this behind me. 
    I walked over to my twin bed, pulled my dress over my head, and slipped beneath the sheets.  “I’ll be up in a few hours.  But I want to apologize for forgetting to send a text.  I honestly forgot.  I love you both.”
    “Just don’t do it again,” Brooke said.
    When she stepped out of the room, a moment passed before Elle whispered something to me from the doorway.  She spoke so quietly, I had to turn and look at her.  “What did you say?” I asked.
    “Try not to think about Chance.” 
    Her tone had turned serious.  This wasn’t the Elle whose scathing wit could set a room on fire.  This was the other Elle that most people didn’t know—the