Matty looked at his online bank statement, making sure the payment had gone through. It was such a minuscule amount that the first three digits hadn’t even changed on the balance. And that wasn't even his main account. He spent more than that when he wanted a new car, or when he invested in a company. It wasn't even enough to feel bad about. But it would mean so much to Christina.

It was confusing, but pleasing. He’d never really done anything like that for anyone else. He’d stared at his bank statement for most of the day. He couldn’t fathom how something so small could make such a huge difference to someone. He couldn’t make sense of someone needing so little money so badly. But if it helped her, if it made her life easier, then it would all be worthwhile.

He couldn’t remember ever feeling so good about spending money.

It felt amazing—meaningful. What the hell. He could feel it again, so why not? And he knew exactly what he needed to do. There was something else that Christina wanted, something she’d been saving for.

He opened the website his friend had sent him. The house only had three bedrooms, one bathroom, a living room, and a kitchen. It was for her father.

He felt tempted to buy them something bigger, something better. In the sidebar, he saw similar places recommended nearby. Places with big yards, acres of land, and their own temperature-controlled pools. Places that were built in the last decade at least. Places with completely renovated kitchens, with five bedrooms, with hot tubs and skylights, and amazing home security features.

He was tempted to get her one of those instead. And even the most expensive one was only a million or so. It would be a noticeable expense, but nothing he couldn't make back in the next quarter. They would be well worth the money, too. Cheaper to run, nicer to live in. A much better place to raise kids.

Sure, maybe Christina couldn’t afford anything better. But perhaps she would be pleased to find out that he’d bought her something more impressive?

He shoved away his thoughts. This was what she wanted. This was what she was saving up for. This was what she was always posting on social media about. It probably meant something to her, if she was so obsessed with this one little house. She was far too picky about things to go off and buy something ridiculous. He closed the other tabs and squinted at the pictures.

“Mia, call the number on the website.”

As the number dialed out, he wondered briefly what the time was in Kentucky. He wasn't used to doing any of this. For all he knew it was the middle of the night over there. He caught the realtor at the end of her lunch break. At first, she sounded a bit annoyed, but after hearing she was about to make a sale with little to no effort, she changed her tune.

It felt odd to even be talking about that place. It was so far below his needs, so far below anywhere he would even set foot in. But it was what Christina wanted, so it was what she would get.

“We do have other places, you know?”

“Yes, I’m aware. I'm getting this for someone and she specifically asked for it.”

“It has a lot wrong with it. Been on the market for nine years now with no offers.”

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, my friend wants it.”

“Like I said, we have much nicer places, if you want to come and see them.”

He sighed. Fucking realtors were always looking for a bigger commission, regardless of the country. “She asked for that one. It’s that one or nothing.”

There was a confused mumble from the other end of the phone. “Okay, just don't say I didn't try and tell you. Now, what are we doing about legal paperwork, keys?”

“I’m not sure. I’ve never bought someone else a home in another country before.”

More confused noises emerged from the mobile, followed by a brief, inaudible conversation with someone else in the room. “You need to be here.”

“Do I really?” This was starting to be a lot of work, regardless of how much he liked her. He shook his head in frustration. No, he wanted to do it for her, so he soldiered on.

“Yeah, it’ll make everything much easier with all the paperwork.”

He sighed heavily. “Fine, I will go there for the legal side. But if I send you a straight payment for the house, can you at least send the keys along with a postcard to my friend?”

“Straight payment? As in, paying it all at once?”

“Yeah, sure. Plus a bonus for inconveniencing you. Say, ten thousand dollars?”

“That will be no problem, Sir.”

He almost laughed. Christina would have a heart attack if she knew what he’d just done. She was wrong about one thing—it turned out that if you paid enough money, people really wouldn't question anything you did. Despite how long the earlier part of the conversation took, as soon as he started offering bonus payments she was very eager to secure the deal. People were so predictable.

He made the payment on the phone with her, before even signing the deal. He found himself snickering when she muttered something about foreigners and their strange ways. They agreed to meet two days later to finish everything, and the call ended.

He sat back in his chair, wondering what he even expected to get out of this. It felt pretty good, but what could possibly result? Christina had made it abundantly clear that she wasn’t interested in him as more than a client and a one-night stand. She also hadn't considered him important enough to tell him about her family situation. And having known her less than a week, he couldn't exactly claim he was entitled to anything else, emotionally or physically. The money was probably just going to vanish.

It didn't matter. He’d given her the money. He didn't expect to get anything for it. That was the way of these good deeds, he thought. It wasn't as if he needed anything anyway. He wasn't sure why he had lived his whole life blindly following the lessons his father had taught him. Spending money wasn't so bad. If she didn't appreciate it, then fuck her. It wasn't that much money. Technically, he could write it up as a bad investment and move on.

But, what if she came back? He stared at the wall. Nothing was being projected from his phone and still he wasn't quite sure where else to look. The room felt so empty. Why was his entire house so clean and empty and sterile, when he didn't even like it that way? Why did he bother living there and having dumb projections on his walls wherever he went just so he didn't feel like he was living in a box? He could easily afford to buy a beautiful cabin anywhere in the world and wake up with real birds and real sunshine, look out over a real lake or the sea, and fill his house with all the art he wanted to. Yet he’d spent all his money on an elaborate cage in a London suburb, which he had enriched with artificial bollocks.

Perhaps he ought to fly to the USA that night, rather than the next day? Go and see her? But why? This wasn't a movie. She wasn't his Juliet or his Cinderella. They weren't living some amazing fairytale story of princes and paupers. And spending money on her would not make her fall in love with him.

If he showed up he'd probably be accused of being a creep. But who cared? He felt that they’d connected that night, and again the following day. There had been some affection, some understanding, the likes of which he’d never experienced before. And perhaps he was wrong. Perhaps she felt nothing at all for him and would be angry at him for showing up. But he would be angrier at himself if he didn't seize the opportunity.

“Mia, book me a ticket to Lexington, Kentucky.”

“Booking one ticket from U.K., London, Heathrow, to U.S.A., Kentucky, Lexington, Blue Grass.”

Christina was right. Mia was irritating even when she was working properly, and a serious problem when she wasn't. She couldn't replace a real human assistant like Christina. Not yet. And definitely not if he continued working on her design. He should leave things like this in the hands of people who knew what they were doing.

Speaking of not knowing what he was doing, he wondered what he would need to travel to Kentucky. He didn't know what the weather was like that time of year. What state laws he would have to think about, or anything else. But his flight was in three and a half hours, so he had to work it out quick.

This would be some kind of adventure. If she called him a creep and told him to fuck off, at least it would make for a nice holiday.