Money - love it or hate it, it, unfortunately, controls much of our lives. From what we eat to where we live, the people we associate with to the holidays we take, cash is a factor in almost everything. For me, I hate the pressure that money can bring into our lives - that feeling of buying something, swiping your card and typing your PIN with your fingers crossed, praying there's enough in the account.

I wanted to explore some different ideas around money in this tale - how it can bring out the best and the worst in people, and what it means to be truly rich. To do that, I'm following the love stories of two women simultaneously as they fall for two men who are their opposites in almost every way.

So, put your money woes on hold as you dive into someone else's finances for a while :) I hope you enjoy! xxoo Kate

There was something so peaceful and stupid about the face of the man with the notepad in front of her, Lex wanted to slap him. Smiling like a doe-eyed cow, he asked her what felt like the hundredth inane question. "Are you a dog person or a cat person?"

"Neither," She replied, imbuing her voice with the maximum amount of irritation. "Pets are pointless. Next."

"Would you rather holiday at the beach or at the mountains?"

"I don't take holidays."

"But if you did-"

"I don't. Pass. Next."

"Alright, Alexandra-"

"Lex," she corrected him. "Only my mother calls me Alexandra and she knows better than to bother me with any kind of nonsense me during business hours."

"Lex." He remained infuriatingly placid in the face of her ire. "Would you rather be known as a person who served people or someone who encouraged people?"

While he was speaking, her phone buzzed twice in her pocket; short for an email, and a longer vibration for another missed call. The last of her patience evaporated. "What the hell are these questions? Neither! I don't give a flying frozen frappuchino about people."

She stood, balancing on her new Burberry boots. They'd cost more than a return airfare between Sydney and London, but their ankle-length, unattainable appearance was perfect for intimidating inferiors. "This is a complete waste of my time, and I'm leaving."

The man whose name wasn't important enough to remember looked up at her calmly. "This is a strengths evaluation test, Lex, one which the HR department of your company finds valuable enough to send each of its team members over to me to complete."

"Then I'll make this easy for you." She leaned forward over his desk, speaking in a soft and dangerous tone. "You can write this down, because I can tell you exactly what my strengths are. I'm determined. I'm intelligent. I'm focused. I'll work as hard and as long as it takes to get to the top. My driving force is money, and I don't think that's a bad thing. My life has total clarity and purpose."

"Are you happy, Lex?" he asked, his head tilted in curiosity.

She barked in laughter. "Nobody is really happy, mate. Anyone who says otherwise is lying or deluded."

Her phone buzzed again and she was done. Pulling it from the tight pocket of her sheath-like grey wool skirt, she dismissed him. "Tell HR what I said," she said as she left his office. She was expecting a strongly-worded email from the bitchy Human Resources women, but as a senior within the company, Lex was untouchable.

When she reached the Sydney sidewalks, Lex checked her phone and saw the glut of missed communications needing attention. Grinding her back teeth together, she cursed the stupid HR initiative that had drained the morning of its productivity. Time was most definitely money, and Lex was busy building a fortune – delaying her was a good as stealing from her.

I need a coffee. The office was a five minute walk, but she couldn't wait that long for a caffeine hit. Once she had a decent espresso inside her empty belly, she'd be able to deal with her phone and all the mess waiting for her back at her desk.

North Sydney was crammed full of java distributors, all of them about the same quality and price. Lex stopped at a tiny café with a serving window facing the road, so she didn't even need to go in to get what she wanted.

"Can I help you, love?" said the man behind the counter.

She ordered and said, "Make it fast; I'm in a hurry."

"Aren't you all..." he muttered, turning away to the steaming machine.

Lex clicked her tongue at his rudeness, but couldn't afford the extra time it would take to go to another coffee shop. Turning away, she leaned against the brick wall and began to flick through her phone. Briefly, she considered trying to return some phone calls, but the traffic noise combined with the crooning of a near-by street musician would have made it all too difficult.

As she stared at her extra-wide iPhone 6 screen, analysing the latest round of disasters she'd have to deal with, a smooth voice cut into her focus. "This next song goes out to the pretty blonde with the great legs and the scowl on her face. Let's see if we can make her smile..."

"I think he's talking to you, love," said the coffee-man from behind her.

"What?" She glanced up. Lex had heard the words, but hadn't registered the insult until it was pointed out to her. Now, she was pissed. To be poked fun of by a dirty busker? Bring it on. She almost welcomed the chance to vent her spleen on someone.

Then she saw him. Glowing green eyes, the spring-time colour of the budding leaves around us, tucked underneath a long mop of dirty blond hair that trailed down to his collar. Long, calloused fingers holding the frets of his guitar, which hung from a strap around his slender shoulders. A grin that could have sold sardine flavoured toothpaste. He was unique and totally gorgeous – nothing like the men Lex normally associated with.

Still, he had been rude, and he deserved her wrath. She stepped forward, but suddenly, the concrete beneath her feet seemed unsteady.

Their eyes locked. She opened her mouth, but he was faster, launching into the first verse of a song that transported Lex back to a different time, when she was a different person.

"Cast my memory back there, Lord,

Sometime I'm overcome thinking about

Making love in the green grass

Behind the stadium

With you, my brown-eyed girl..."

It wasn't until Lex realised she was singing along to "Sha-la-la-dee-dah," that he'd done the impossible; he'd made her smile. In high school, she'd been known as the 'Brown-eyed Girl' because of the massive size and luminous chocolate colour of her eyes. She'd loved having an identity, using her pretty peepers to express and cajole shamelessly.

Nowadays, Lex kept them behind sunglasses, or muted them with the blunt cut of her platinum fringe. Working life was a savage corporate jungle – she couldn't afford for anyone to think that her soft Bambi eyes meant she wouldn't rip their throat out for a better advantage.

The song ended. She shook herself slightly, as if waking up from the spell cast by his raw tones.

"Made you smile! I knew I could."

He grinned at Lex, and her belly twisted in an unfamiliar way. "I... I wasn't smiling at you. I was smiling at a memory."

He shrugged, continuing to strum the chords of the song. "Either way. You're a beautiful woman, but when you smile, man... You're stunning."

Every snarky feminist response she could summon began to spew forth, but they stuck in her throat, choked by sudden emotion. Heat flamed in her cheeks as she studied the unwashed musician in front of her. His fingernails were dirty, he wore jeans without a brand label, and a flannel shirt. He was so far below her, it was laughable, and yet, he'd somehow gotten the upper hand.

"I'm Otis," he said, his hair falling in his eyes.

She had a mad urge to reach forward and tuck the strands behind his ear. The street had fallen away; the phone and busy morning forgotten. There was only this strangely captivating man who had slowed the world down. "I'm-"

"Coffee's up, love!"

"Oh!" She started, spinning back towards the counter as the rest of her life came flooding back. In three strides, she reached for the take-away cup, dazed and shaky.

As her fingers closed around the cup, something pulled Lex viciously from behind, tearing her shoulder backward. "Hey!" she screamed, the coffee falling to the ground as she realised someone was wrenching her $4000 Marc Jacobs bag off her arm.

"No!" she cried as the thief, just a teen in jeans and a hoody, sprinted off with her prized mandarin-coloured bag – with her entire life inside, including her phone.

"Oi!" Otis' yell made her look. The muso threw down his guitar and tore off in hot pursuit of the robber.

Helpless, she watched them both hurtle the length of Walker Street, until the thief turned a corner and they were gone. "Shit!" What do I do now? She stood awkwardly by the spilled coffee, looking around as if the police might suddenly appear.

But the boys in blue were nowhere to be seen, and she needed to get back to the office. She could report the theft, cancel the credit cards and get on with her day finally. Blowing out an exasperated breath, she began to walk away from the scene of the crime.

"Hey! Hey, lady!" The bearded guy behind the counter was calling out to her. "What about that dude's stuff?"

Otis' guitar lay on the ground, the unmanned instrument drawing attention from people wandering by – not to mention the glances his case-full of coins was garnering. It was only a matter of time before someone ran off with those too. "Can't you can look after it?" she hissed, sensing more trouble. "Don't you know him?"

"Nah, love. First time he's played outside my shop." He shrugged. "I don't have time to look after his things."

Indignation pulsed in Lex's head. "Because mixing bean juice and water is such a highly stressful occupation?"

"Whatever. I don't need this shit..." He turned away to the back of the café, leaving her on the street with the choice before her.

This isn't my problem, she said to herself. He ran off on his own, I didn't ask him too. She looked at the small pile of stuff; the guitar, a case with a few bucks in it, and a long green coat.

It was the coat that broke her resolve; threadbare and stained, it was obviously a loved item of clothing that had been worn a thousand times. She had a secret pair of tracksuit pants like that at home, bought when Lex was a teenager and worn only when she knew no one would see her. They were her comfort pants, and she'd hate to lose them.

"Fine!" Lex spat, stooping to put the guitar in the case, stuffing the jacket in around the hollow at the neck.

Once she snapped it shut, Lex stalked back to the counter, reaching for a napkin and a pen and commanded the coffee maker, "If that guy comes back, tell him to find his stuff at this address." She wrote her office details down, planning to ditch the gear with the receptionist to pass on to him if he showed. With a special glower at the heartless barista, she hit the pavement again.

Having wasted almost half a day, Lex finally powered into her office. Her assistant immediately pounced. "Ms Carson! Where have you been? Your voicemail box is full, HR want to see you ASAP, and Mr MacNamara is in your office."

Waving her down as if she was an excitable toddler, Lex ordered her to call the banks in her name and tell them about the theft, then to report it to the police. As she spoke, she subtly undid another button on her black silk blouse, to reveal a hint of lace bra. When dealing with Ryan MacNamara, Lex would use any weapon at her disposal.

After sending the secretary scuttling away, she entered her office. Ryan stood at the window, admiring her view over the harbour.

"How does the bridge look today?" she baited him, knowing full well that he hated how his office window faced the building next to theirs.

"You can have your view, Lex. We both know my office is bigger." He turned towards her, immaculate in his suit. Ryan looked like any other young corporate man around the city, with his styled hair and flashy grin and confident charms.

Lex raised an eyebrow at him. "It's not the size that counts, Ryan. Although, being too big was never your problem."

"At least I know what to do with it," he said suggestively.

"If 'know what to do with it,' means, 'thrust in and out for thirty seconds then collapse,' then yes, I suppose you do." She sat calmly behind her desk, powering up her laptop. Ryan and Lex had started at the firm at the same time, and the competition between the pair has always been fierce, even in the bedroom. She used sex as a tool with him, deploying it to mess with him whenever she felt he was getting the upper hand.

Unperturbed by the insult, Ryan grinned. "Thirty seconds in heaven, baby. So, how are you feeling about the interview next week? If you're nervous, I can give you some advice, like, 'don't worry too much – you know they're going to give the role to me anyway.'"

He sat on the corner of my desk, and Lex shot him a withering look. "Go blow yourself, MacNamara."

"Trust me, if I could reach, I would." He leaned forward, his eyes on the open neck of her shirt. "Why don't you help me out instead?"

She considered. Despite her harsh words, Ryan was actually okay in bed. Her work life left no time for dating and all the dramas that brought with it, but she still enjoyed sex, and he was an easy place to find a release – hence why they screwed a few times a month. Neither of them were under any illusions that feelings might develop, so it worked well.

But as Lex was about to name a time for him to come to her place that night, a lilting guitar strummed through her head and instead she said, "I would, but I just really don't want to. Get out, MacNamara, I'm busy and important, plus your aftershave is giving me a headache."

"Fine," he said, standing and brushing the wrinkles from his pants. "But you know you'll come yowling for it eventually."

She ignored him thoroughly, but he paused at the door to say, "Oh, and Lex? I told Wilson that you were keen to get started on the client reviews for the next quarter. Check your inbox." He was gone.

"You son of a bitch!" Lex muttered under her breath as she clicked through her emails. Sure enough, she'd been saddled with the most time-consuming and pointless of tasks, during a week where she needed every second of time to ensure that she was prepared for the most important interview of her career. Even though she'd turned him down for sex, Ryan had essentially screwed her anyway.

"Ms Carson?" The secretary peeped her mousy brown head inside. "The police say you need to make the report in person, and the banks won't speak to anyone but the account holder."

Lex could sense her blood pressure rising inside her chest, a swelling the likes of which would make her doctor cringe. "Just. Bloody. Perfect."

***

Lex poured an extra-large glass of wine, counting the calories as the dinner she hadn't eaten. Placing the bottle on the desk of her home office, she settled in to work far into the night, to accomplish everything she hadn't been able to do during the unproductive day.

After hours of hold music with the banks, she'd stood around the local police station, feeling grimier and less educated by the minute, as if the company of the lower classes around her were actively pulling her down to their level.

She'd done her daily hour at the gym after close of business, taking out her frustrations on the elliptical trainer, punishing her thighs. Lex caught a taxi back to her inner-city terrace house – she'd bought it fully renovated at a wildly expensive cost. It was mortgaged to the hilt, but her broker assured her it was a good investment.

Now, with the night stretching before her and her unending pile of work at her fingertips, she was ready for some uninterrupted time to finally catch up.

That was the second she heard the knock at the door.

Frowning, Lex checked the time as she walked to the front entrance. The only person who visited normally was Ryan, and she certainly hadn't put in a booty call after their conversation that morning – plus her phone was still MIA. With her Crim-Safe screen door keeping her secure from intruders, she opened her wooden door and peered into the night.

"Hello?" Lex said, looking at the male back on her front porch.

He turned, and her traitorous stomach flipped girlishly. It was the street musician, looking undeniably beautiful in an eclectic, grungy way.

He grinned and electricity ran through Lex, zapping along her skin and lifting the hair from the back of her neck. "Y-you," she said, stuttering and overwhelmed. "What are you doing here?"

"Hey! It's Alexandra, right?"

She almost didn't open her mouth to automatically correct him, to assert her identity as Lex; there was something about the way her full name rolled over his tempting lips that tried to hold her back. "It's Lex."

His clear eyes glowed dark emerald in the night as he held her orange Marc Jacobs aloft. "I got your bag back!"

First chapter! Will you vote before you move on, please?