“Dave Toney is on the phone,” Karla says as she knocks on the doorframe of my office door.
“Send him through,” I say before turning to JP. “Can I get some privacy, man?”
He shakes his head. “I’d rather be here for this conversation.” When he doesn’t attempt to move, I realize he’s not kidding.
Rolling my eyes, I pick up my phone. “Dave, good to hear from you,” I answer in a casual voice. “How are you?”
“Doing great. I was speaking with Ellie last night and she was adamant I find out if your fiancée has any allergies or aversions to food. Ever since Ellie got pregnant, she can’t even be in the same room as French fries. They absolutely repulse her. But potato chips are fine. I don’t get it, but I go with it.”
Great question.
Really great fucking question.
Well, if this were an alternate reality and I really was engaged to a pregnant woman, I’d assume she’d have some sort of pregnancy craving, as well as something she couldn’t possibly be around, but because I don’t have a pregnant fiancée, I don’t have an answer for him.
But I’m still counting on Lottie, even though I’ve yet to hear from her. I know the flowers were delivered, I asked for a delivery receipt, so I should’ve heard something from her. At least, that’s the narcissistic side of me talking. And I’m going to keep holding out, because I could see she was interested. She needs the help. I just need to find the right way to pursue her. I’m also not opposed to playing dirty to get what I want. That’s obvious from this entire predicament I’m in.
So, instead of answering about allergies, I’m going to answer about cravings, because if I can nudge them toward something I know she’ll eat, then that will guarantee I don’t make her eat something she might have an allergic reaction to.
“No allergies that I’m aware of—thank God for no allergic reactions during the time we’ve been together, am I right?”
Dave laughs. “Talk about ruining a date.”
It’s sickening how jovial the man sounds. How relaxed. It’s as if he’s been walking around, doing business with a stick up his ass, and then I come around with a pregnant fiancée, and he’s Mr. Dad now, happy-go-lucky, wearing his New Balance 409s and living his best life.
“Yeah, we haven’t had that happen. Thankfully. But I do know that she’s craving burrito bowls right now. I just had to get her one from Chipotle yesterday.” Not a lie, the truth. And she shoveled that thing into her mouth.
“That’s crazy. Ellie has been craving Chipotle lately. We had it last night. I’m wondering if we should just get that for dinner. I know Ellie spoke of making a southern meal, but she’s been exhausted lately and this might be an easy out for her. Do you know what your girl likes from Chipotle?”
That I do.
I smile and for the first time since I picked up the phone, I remember JP is sitting across from me. His arms are crossed, one leg crossed over the other, and he has a huge smile on his face, enjoying me squirm way too much.
“Yes, I do know what she likes,” I say while turning my back toward him. “She likes the burrito bowl.” JP snickers behind me. He can fuck off. “Chicken, black beans, lettuce, and she likes to pile on the guac. She’s always worried because it costs extra, but you know”—I swallow hard—“what my baby wants, my baby gets.”
JP snorts.
Red-hot embarrassment creeps up the back of my neck. I’m going to get so much shit for this.
“Perfect,” Dave says. He drags it out, as if he’s writing it down. “And what about you?”
This is what my life has become, me giving another man my Chipotle order, but not just any man, the man I want to do business with. We’ve succumbed to no longer talking business or being sharks in the office, nope, we’re handing out Chipotle orders.
I give him my order, and then he asks, “Do you guys like the chips?”
“Love them,” I say. I was actually banking on taking those chips home last night and eating them alone in my room while staring out at my pool, contemplating life. But Lottie snagged them as a parting gift before I could stop her. I should’ve been annoyed, but it actually amused me. Can’t say a woman has done that sort of chip dash to me before.
“Great, I’ll be sure to have a bunch, then. Ellie is craving salt right now, so I know those will be right up her alley. And are you sure you’re okay with this dinner? Ellie will probably be horrified that we’re ordering fast food to serve to our guests, but I also know how pregnant women are.”
“Trust me, Lottie will be thrilled.”
“Lottie, I like that name,” Dave says. “That’s the first time you’ve said it. Is it short for Charlotte?”
“Leiselotte, actually.” I can feel JP’s burning gaze on me, his brain filling up with a million questions.
“Beautiful,” Dave says. “I can’t wait to meet her. Does six on Saturday work?”
No.
It doesn’t work at all. It actually would be helpful if I had time to find someone slightly more stable than the girl I’m trying to chase after right now, but I can’t afford that kind of time. I need to make an impression sooner rather than later so I can score that godforsaken deal.
“That works great. We’ll see you then.”
“Perfect.”
I spin around in my chair and casually hang up my phone, ignoring JP altogether. I move my mouse on my desk, wake up my computer, and go straight to my inbox, where I feel the most comfortable.
JP doesn’t say anything. He just stares at me. A few minutes pass, and my nerves creep and crawl higher and higher until I break. “What?” I ask him.
“Nothing. I didn’t say anything.”
I turn toward his annoyingly large grin. “You didn’t have to say anything. It’s all in your eyes, in your stare.”
“Just fascinated, is all. Because not only have you lied about this whole pregnant fiancée thing, but now you’ve dug yourself an even bigger hole by handing Dave a name, but not just a name, her whole name. And you offered him a Chipotle order. Ballsy man, really fucking ballsy, especially since the girl didn’t say yes.”
“She will,” I say.
“Yeah, you sure about that?”
“Positive. I know her weakness, and if I have to use it, I will.”
“Perfect way to get someone to do something for you. Threats.” JP claps. “You really are something else, Hux.” He stands from his chair. “I think the smart thing would’ve been to tell him you lied.” He buttons his suit jacket. “I just pray you don’t fuck this entire thing up. We worked damn hard putting this enterprise together.”
“You think I don’t know that?” I ask. “It’s why I’m going to do everything it takes to save our asses, to make this right.”
“You better,” JP says. “And Lottie, she better be at that dinner with you because I doubt pretending she was sick will be accepted. You’re just going to have to do the night all over again.”
He’s right, that was an option, but I know Dave enough to understand his need to make an impression. He wants to meet my fiancée, and he’s going to keep asking until he does.
“Good luck, bro, you’re going to need it.” JP walks out of my office, and I lean back in my chair, letting out some pent-up frustration.
“Fuck,” I mutter.
I stare down at my desk and contemplate my next move. Clearly the flowers didn’t work, which only means I’m going to have to play dirty.
She’ll hate me, but that’s fine. As long as I can get her to come to dinner and not make a fool out of me, that’s all I care about.
THIS IS REALLY FUCKING DUMB, and any person watching me do what I’m about to do would agree. But desperation is at my door and I’m fucking answering.
Chocolates in hand—because honestly, I don’t know what women like and I’ve never done this before—I walk up the small path that leads to Lottie’s front door. She lives in a small bungalow with an impeccable yard, right around the corner from The Flats. The house must be worth a fortune now, especially on such a nice parcel, right next to a wealthy neighborhood.
I knock on the door and hold my breath.
“I got it, Mom,” I hear Lottie call out right before she opens the door.
She’s wearing a pair of cotton shorts and a Rolling Stones T-shirt. Her hair is up, pulled away from her face, and her eyes are wide with surprise.
“Hey, babe,” I say with a devilish smile. “I’ve missed you.”
Through clenched teeth, she asks, “What the hell are you doing here?”
“Don’t you want to invite me in?”
“No . . . I don’t,” she says in a snippy tone. Looks as if I have my work cut out for me.
“Lottie, who is it?” a female voice asks from inside the house.
“No one,” Lottie calls out. I can sense she’s about to slam the door in my face, so I take a step forward and stand in the doorway, cutting her off from an abrupt departure on my end.
“No one? Is that how you treat your fiancé?” I ask. “I thought I meant more to you than that?”
“You’re insane,” she whispers. “How do you even know where I live? Did you stalk me? Do you have someone following me around, watching my every move? Rich people can do things like that. I know the kind of power you have.”
Trying to hold back my smile, I say, “You typed your address into my Google Maps. It was in the previous addresses section.”
“Oh.” She slowly nods. “Yeah, that checks out.”
Jesus.
“Lottie, dessert is . . . ready. Well, hello.” From the vast resemblance between Lottie and the woman next to her, I’m going to assume this is Lottie’s mom. “And who might this be?”
Before Lottie can say anything, I hold out my hand and say, “Huxley, ma’am. Lottie’s boyfriend.”
“Boyfriend?” her mom shouts in surprise and turns to her daughter. “Since when have you had a boyfriend?”
“Three months,” I answer once again. “We’ve kept it really quiet. We wanted to get to know each other before we announced anything publicly. Especially since my job is high profile.”
“Wow, I’m shocked. I didn’t even know Lottie was dating anyone, but what wonderful news.” She holds out her hand and says, “I’m Maura.”
I take her hand and give it a soft shake. “Huxley. It’s very nice to meet you.”
“Huxley, oh, what a wonderful name. Please come in. Dessert is ready, and I’d love for you to join us.”
I hand her the chocolates. “Maybe I can add to the dessert table with these,” I say, but before Maura can take them, Lottie snags them from my hand.
With a ravenous look in her eyes, she says, “These are mine.”
Her mom chuckles. “Don’t get between Lottie and her sweets. I’ll grab another plate for our guest. Come in, come in, Huxley.”
I do just that. I step into their quaint but homey bungalow and remove my black Tom Ford shoes and then my black suit jacket as well. I undo the buttons on the cuff of my long-sleeved button-up and roll the sleeves up to my elbows while staring down at Lottie, who’s staring up at me, hatred beaming from her pupils.
“Hey, babe,” I say again, this time with a smile.
“You’ve completely lost your mind,” she says quietly. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Playing dirty. I tried to play nice, but you didn’t want to, so here I am now. Playing dirty.”
“What makes you think I’m going to play along?” She lifts her chin.
“Because I know you don’t have a job . . . and you don’t want your mom to know.”
Her face goes white, and in this moment, I do feel slightly bad. It’s obvious Lottie is going through a hard time, and I watched her struggle with her conscience in Chipotle as she tried to figure out what to do. Respected that. But I don’t have time for her to figure it out, and honestly, I don’t feel bad enough to end the farce. Especially since I’m in deeper shit than she is.
“You’re going to blackmail me?”
“No, just using tools to help me get what I want, and don’t act as if you don’t need me too.”
“I don’t. It’s why I haven’t called, you psycho,” she snaps.
Laughing, I say a little louder, “Missed you too, babe.”
“Why don’t you two come in here?” Maura calls from the kitchen.
Smiling, I reach down and take Lottie’s hand. She attempts to snatch it away, but I have a firm enough hold on her that she doesn’t go anywhere. Leaning down toward her ear, I whisper, “I swear, I’ll make this worth it for you.”
When I pull away, her surprised eyes meet mine for a brief second before I pull her toward the kitchen, hand in hand.
Her mom turns and places a plate on the small four-person table. The table is situated under a large window, offering an expansive view of their well-manicured backyard. A canopy of trees and an old stucco wall offer them privacy from the close-knit quarters of their neighbors. “Jeff is working late tonight so Lottie and I were taking advantage of some ice cream sundaes, since Jeff is lactose intolerant.”
I’m assuming Jeff is her husband.
“I believe Lottie mentioned that,” I say, playing along. “Not sure what I’d do if I were lactose intolerant. I enjoy ice cream way too much.”
“Me too,” Maura says. “I’m grateful my digestive system can handle it. Please, take a seat.”
I pull out a chair for Lottie first. I might not have vast experience in dating a woman, but I do know fucking manners, and pulling out a seat for your girl is a sweet gesture. From the look on Maura’s face, I’m going to assume she agrees. When Lottie is settled, I take a seat as well and pick up my spoon.
“Wow, I feel spoiled,” I say. “This looks amazing.”
“I gave you the works, just like me and Lottie. I hope you’re not allergic to nuts, I should’ve asked.”
“I’m all good.” I spin the bowl around. “What’s in this?”
“Vanilla ice cream, hot fudge, chopped peanuts, a dash of cherry juice, whipped cream, chocolate sprinkles, and cherries.”
“Looks amazing. Thank you.” I dig my spoon into the bowl, take a large helping, and shove it in my mouth. Damn, it’s really good. I’m not sure the last time I had a sundae, but I’ve been missing out. “Really good.”
Lottie just stares at me, as if she can’t believe I’m here, eating ice cream in her mom’s kitchen, acting as though nothing is wrong.
Actually, that’s exactly what’s happening.
If only I could hear her thoughts.
My guess is, she’d just be saying, “I’m going to kill him,” over and over.
“Lottie, are you not hungry?” her mom asks.
I press my hand to her thigh and say, “She’s probably in shock. I’m not sure she was ready to tell you about me. I assumed no one was home when she was texting me, so I figured I’d stop by.” I squeeze her thigh. “Sorry, baby. Cat’s out of the bag.”
“Oh, honey, what do you have to worry about?” her mom asks.
We both look at Lottie, who looks like a deer in headlights.
“My reputation,” I say, covering for her. “It’s, uh, not the best, but not by my doing. I’m not sure if you’ve heard of Cane Enterprises.”
Maura’s face morphs into shock. “Huxley Cane? You’re Huxley Cane?”
I quickly glance at Lottie, who looks clueless. Interesting.
“Yes. And even though Page Six likes to report on what girl I have on my arm one night to the other, it’s not true. Don’t believe anything you read in those things.” Thankfully I haven’t been mentioned in a while, because that wouldn’t work out well for my story with Lottie.
“Oh, I never believe any celebrity gossip unless it comes from Hoda Kotb herself.” Maura waves her hand in dismissal.
Lottie finally comes to life and says, “Mom, you always believe what they say in those gossip magazines. You told me the other day that Jennifer Aniston had triplets and sold them to Will Arnett.”
Maura laughs nervously. “It was a joke.” She clears her throat. “Anyway, is this why you’ve been so evasive about moving?” Maura asks Lottie. “Because you’re thinking about moving in with Huxley?”
Oh shit . . .
“What would make you think that?” Lottie asks in annoyance.
“Because when I looked around for apartments near Kelsey, there was nothing available. It seems as if you’ve been avoiding the whole conversation, and I don’t know, finding out you have a boyfriend just makes me think that you might be thinking about moving in with him.” Maura turns toward me. “Don’t get me wrong, we love having Lottie here, but we’ve also been excited about her promotion so she could find her own place, finally.”
Interesting. So, she does need a place to stay; that’s not what she said the other night. And since she didn’t get a promotion, but was fired, not telling her mom makes sense. I think I have Lottie right where I want her.
Maura offers me a sly grin. “Jeff and I really want to walk around the house naked.”
“Mom!” Lottie says, her face turning red.
I lean in and wink. “I totally get what you mean.” Clearing my throat, I say, “I asked her to move in, but I’m waiting on an answer.”
“Really?” Maura asks, excitement beaming from her eyes. “Oh, wow, that’s so exciting. Honey, are you going to say yes?”
We both look at Lottie, whose mouth is full of ice cream. She glances between us, and I know she wants to murder me, because if looks could kill . . .
I’d be six feet under.
She swallows cautiously and then says, “I’m not sure. He’s more attached to me than I am to him.” She shoves more ice cream in her mouth.
“Lottie. How could you say something like that?” Maura asks, horrified. Whispering, she adds, “And right in front of him, too.”
“Ah, she’s only kidding,” I say, taking the heat off Lottie. “She was the first one to say ‘I love you,’ actually.”
Maura’s eyes widen. “Wow, I didn’t . . . I didn’t know.” Maura turns to Lottie. “I’m sad you didn’t think you could trust me with this information.” Oh shit. I don’t need the mom feeling sad.
“It’s my fault,” I say quickly. “I begged her not to tell anyone. I really wanted to keep it on the down-low. She wanted to tell you and Jeff, but I asked her not to. Please don’t be mad at her. If you’re mad at anyone, it should be me.”
That earns me a soft gaze from Lottie, but it doesn’t last very long, not when she turns back to her ice cream and scoops some more into her mouth.
“I appreciate you being honest with me, Huxley.” Jesus, if only she knew. “Well.” Maura rests her hands on the table. “How did you meet?”
“On a walk,” I say, even though that’s not what I told Dave. Jesus, this is already twisted and fucked. At least on a walk is true. “She was lost and I helped her find her way back home, but I knew before she left, I needed her number. Couldn’t stop staring at her. Those green eyes of hers mesmerize me.”
Lottie glances in my direction, a surprised look on her face. Yeah, I pay attention to the small things. I’d remember those eyes even if they just briefly glanced at me.
“How sweet. Lottie, you haven’t said much.”
Because I keep stepping in before she can say anything. Because even though I know she needs me to cover for her, I’m not fully confident she won’t fly off the deep end and blow our cover.
“Just observing Huxley,” she says. “Seeing how he fits in my environment.” She stirs her spoon in her bowl. “Not sure he fits in or not.”
“Please excuse my daughter, she apparently has no decorum. Lottie, this is your boyfriend.”
Maura is a good woman.
“It’s okay, Maura. She tends to bust my balls often—excuse my language.”
“Oh, don’t bother excusing yourself around here, we aren’t proper in any way. And I guess she gets that attitude from me; I tend to throw some shade toward Jeff as well.”
“Makes it that much more fun, especially when at night, she curls into me for a hug and presses those sweet lips on mine. Makes it all worth it, because I know my girl loves me. Truly loves me.”
And the Oscar goes to . . .
Lottie stands from the table, bowl in hand. “I’m done. Huxley, let me show you my room.”
“That’s presumptuous,” I tease while taking a mouthful of ice cream. When she glares at me, I stand from my seat and say, “Maura, excuse me while my girl gains some private time with me. Shall I put my bowl in the sink?”
She waves at me. “No, I got this, you two go ahead.”
“Thank you.” I take Lottie’s hand in mine and allow her to guide me down the hallway to the last room on the left. She opens the door, drags me in, and then shuts the door behind me.
I take in the small but fully decorated room. Posters of rock bands span across every wall. From the Beatles, to ELO, to Boston, everyone is represented, even on the ceiling. Her bed is unmade, there are clothes on the ground, and her dresser is covered in makeup and face products. I feel as though I’ve been transported back two decades to one of my girlfriend’s rooms. Clutter, everything you like plastered on the walls, and even though there isn’t a black light in her room, there is rope lighting outlining her door. This girl is not that much younger than me, but man does it feel like it.
“How old are you, again?” I ask, turning to face her. I’m greeted by a very angry-looking woman: arms crossed, jaw clenched, foot tapping.
Damn, the girl truly can commit murder with her eyes.
“What the actual hell are you doing here?”
“We’ll get to that in a second. I just need to know how old you are first.”
She rolls her eyes. “Don’t worry, babe, I’m twenty-eight. No need to call your lawyers.” She passes me, her shoulder bumping against mine as she makes her way to her unmade bed and takes a seat. Her sheets are covered in tiny hearts, whereas her comforter is pitch black and velvety. I’m trying to gain an understanding of this girl, but I can’t seem to put my finger on her. She’s all over the place.
Rock posters. Heart sheets.
Surly attitude. Cares about her parents.
Snarls from across the table. Will gobble down whatever is placed in front of her.
“Now tell me what the hell you think you’re doing,” she says.
“Doing you a favor.” I stick my hands in my pants pockets.
“How is lying to my mom doing me a favor? She legit thinks we’re a couple.”
“Which was accomplished by my impeccable acting. You could use some adjustments.”
Her brows narrow. Cool it with the teasing, man, she’s not open to it right now.
“I thought I told you at Chipotle I wasn’t interested.”
“You were interested,” I say. “But you were spooked. Not sure what spooked you, but I saw a shift in you. I knew you weren’t through with this; you just needed some encouragement. That’s what the flowers were, encouragement.”
“Uh-huh. And what would you say today is?”
“Today is a kick in the ass.”
“I don’t need a kick in the ass. You’re the one who needs this more than I do.”
“Oh, really?” I ask, feeling cocky now with knowledge. “Because from what it seems like, your mom is counting down the seconds until you leave this house. She also seems to believe you will be receiving a promotion soon, when, in fact, you’re out of a job. Care to tell me why she thinks that?”
Lottie moves her jaw back and forth but doesn’t answer me.
I thumb toward the door. “Or should I go ask her myself?” I move to leave and she quickly springs from the bed and grabs my hand, pulling me back.
“Don’t say a GD thing to my mom.” She sits on the bed and then flops backwards. “God, why is this such a nightmare?”
“It doesn’t have to be,” I say. “It could be really simple. We can help each other out, but for some reason, you’re not allowing that to happen.”
“Because you’re a complete stranger,” she hisses at me. “You want me to be your fiancée, live with you apparently, and be at your beck and call? I have a life I have to live, I don’t have time to play your rich-dick game.”
“This isn’t a game for me,” I say. “This is a huge fuckup on my part, and I’m trying to make it better, for everyone. And you won’t have to be at my beck and call, just a few dinners here and there, maybe a weekend thing, just until I can secure this deal, and then you can tell me to fuck off.”
“And what do I get in return?” she asks, lifting up so she’s leaning on her elbows.
“Whatever you want,” I say, because I’m at that point. I want her to know the sky is the limit, because I’ve yet to mention the pregnancy thing. “Need a place to stay? I have a seven-bedroom home. Need a date for your reunion? I’m your man. Need me to make a phone call to this ex-boss of yours, let her know she made a huge mistake by letting you go? I’m there for you. Want a job? I can find you one.”
“I don’t want a job from you,” she says. “I really want . . .” Her voice trails off as she shakes her head and looks toward her window.
Oh, she does want something. I can see it in her far-off gaze. It’s wishful, hopeful, something behind those sultry eyes that she truly, truly wants.
I take that opportunity to sit next to her on the bed. This might be a breakthrough moment for me, where I can move past that tough exterior of hers. “What do you want, Lottie? Trust me, I can make pretty much anything happen.”
Her lips twist to the side as she avoids eye contact with me. Just from the way her brow draws together, I know she’s thinking about it, considering telling me. Instead of pushing, I wait.
And wait.
Until . . .
“I want to be able to help my sister,” she says quietly. “I want to feel fulfilled with my career, appreciated, and I know I can do that with Kelsey. She’s my person, my best friend, and working with her would be a dream.” She glances at me. “But she can’t afford to hire me, and I need to make money.”
“What does she do?” I appreciate the vulnerability in her voice. When she’s not hiding behind the snark and sarcasm, she’s the most unselfish person I’ve ever known. Here I am with the proverbial Aladdin’s lamp, and she wants to help her sister. True altruism. Wow.
“She has her own organizing company. Think The Home Edit, but doing it sustainably.”
“What’s The Home Edit?” I ask, confused. Is that something I should know?
“Ugh, men,” she mutters before saying, “The Home Edit is all about organizing your house, paring things down, and making sure you live an organized life rather than a chaotic one. They turn pantries into havens, fridges into masterpieces. It’s spectacular. Kelsey is on the cusp of being able to push forward and be more than a one-person show, but she’s having a hard time keeping up with the business side. That’s where I would come in.”
“I see.” I stare down at her. “You know, I have a lot of connections. My brothers alone could use someone to come into their house and organize. Our offices could use an overhaul. I can make sure your sister’s business is not only seen by the type of people who would spend a lot of money for her services, but I can make it thrive as well.”
“We don’t want your charity.”
“It’s not charity. I’m not telling people to use her, but if you want to go anywhere in business, Lottie, you have to know connections mean everything. Sometimes, just one person is all you need. One person to ignite the flame, because that one person might know five people, and those five people might know five more people, and that’s how a business grows at first, word of mouth. I’m that first person and I know way more than five people.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying I want to help you.” How do I make her believe me? “How about this—you pretend to be my fiancée and go to these business events with me, and in return, you can stay at my house—”
“I’m not living with you. I can move in with Kelsey. There’s no way I’m living with a stranger I don’t know.”
“Fine. You take the job with Kelsey and move in with her, and I help you two with some connections.”
She mulls it over, her lips twisted to the side.
“And you know,” I add, clearing my throat, “if you could be pregnant as well, that would be ideal.”
“What?” she says, sitting up completely. “Have you lost your mind? I’m not letting you get me pregnant.”
“Fuck, no, I didn’t mean it like that. Pretend to be pregnant. Pretend. I’m not going to be fucking you or anything like that.”
Her brow knits together. “Why on earth would I pretend to be pregnant?”
“Because I told the guy I’m trying to do business with that you’re pregnant.”
“Why? Why would you say that?”
I sigh and grip the back of my neck. “His fiancée is pregnant. I was trying to form a connection with the guy.”
“By making up the fact that you have a pregnant fiancée? Wow, Huxley, you really are in some deep shit, aren’t you?”
“I am. That’s why I need you. So, name it, Lottie.” I hold my arms out. “Name what you want and it’s yours.”
“I don’t know what I want.”
“Okay.” I stand from the bed and pace her room. “In a perfect world, what would you have right now?” I face her and hold my finger up. “Working with your sister, right?”
She nods.
“Not living with your mom and Jeff.”
She nods again.
“Showing up this boss of yours, the one that let you go.”
“A lifelong friend who has been toxic from the start. Would love to just shove it up her ass.”
I chuckle. “Okay, that can be arranged. What else?”
“Perfect world?” she asks with hesitation.
“Perfect world.”
Her teeth roll over the corner of her mouth as she says, “Well, I’d be working with my sister, out of my mom’s house, could stick it to Angela, my student loans are paid off, and every time it rains, I have a place where I can lie in the rain without judgment.”
“Done,” I answer.
“What?” she asks skeptically.
“All of it, done. I’ve got you covered. I’ll help with your sister’s business so you can work for her. You’re going to live with your sister, so that covers housing, we’ll make the perfect plan to stick it to Angela, I’ll easily pay off your student loans, and I know the perfect place to privately lie in the rain.”
She shakes her head. “You’re not paying off my student loans.”
“Why not?” I ask her.
“Because I’m not a hooker.”
I scratch the back of my head. “I don’t recall the time where I said I would pay you to fuck me.”
“You didn’t, but it just feels . . . weird. You paying me to be your escort.”
“First of all, you’re not an escort. Let’s throw that term right out the window, got it? Second of all, this isn’t about me, this is about us. This is a deal. An accord. A transaction between two people. We’ll both agree upon a fair bargain, and trade services, that’s it. Nothing more. Trust me, I’d pay a hefty amount of money to convince you to get on board. I’m sure the student loans can’t be that bad. How much do you owe?”
She winces and says, “Thirty thousand dollars.”
The corner of my mouth tilts up. “Chump change, Lottie.”
Her eyes widen. “I have a thirty-thousand-dollar debt and you’re calling that chump change?”
“Trust me when I say I have billions to work with.”
Confused, she asks, “Why are you telling me this? I could extort those billions from you.”
“Possibly, but I don’t think you will. You don’t seem to be that kind of person.”
“I’m not,” she says, deflated. “I wish I were; it would make this that much easier.”
I chuckle. “I’m glad you’re not someone who relies on extortion. Bodes well for me.” I stand there, hands in my pockets. Head down, I just lift my eyes to glance at her. “Say yes.”
She presses her lips together. “How do I know you’ll follow through on your end?”
“I’ll have my lawyers draw up a contract. Simple.”
Still seeming unsure, she stares down at her hands. “I don’t know.”
“Tell me why you don’t want to do it,” I say. In order for her to go through with this, she has to admit to whatever is holding her back.
“Just feels . . . wrong. I know I was the one who crazily sought out a rich husband to solve all my problems, but now that it’s halfway true, it just feels wrong. I’ve worked hard for everything I’ve earned; this feels like a freebie, and it doesn’t settle well with me.”
I can understand that feeling. If it weren’t for my dad, we wouldn’t have the business we have today.
“I understand the pride you have in working for everything you’ve earned in life. I understand that all too well. But do you know how we started our business?”
She shakes her head. “I honestly know nothing about you.”
“Well, it was with an idea and insurance money from my dad’s passing. Without that insurance money, there’s no way we would be where we are today. Yes, hard work, hustle, and well-thought-out decisions made that money grow, but we needed that boost, that assistance. That starting point. Everyone needs both a strong start and a boost from time to time. Don’t look at this as a freebie, Lottie, look at it as a boost.”
“I guess that makes sense.” Her eyes flash to mine. “You might be offering me the deal of a lifetime, but I need you to know something.” She stands from her bed, and even though she’s a foot shorter than me, she still walks up to me and attempts to be intimidating. “I owe you nothing other than what I signed up for, and this little stunt you pulled today—it’s deceiving and it won’t happen again. Blackmailing, holding my truth against me, that’s bullshit, and I don’t like you very much for it.”
“Fair,” I say. “But I refuse to apologize for what I did.” Her gaze focuses on me. “I don’t apologize unless I regret something I did. I don’t regret this. As a businessman, I make the best decisions to help close in on my goal.”
“So that’s what this is—a business transaction?”
“Nothing more than that.”
“Good,” she says and then points to the door. “You can leave now.”
I shake my head. “Nice try, Lottie, but I’m going to need some information from you before I leave, and those things include your phone number, sister’s address, dress size, and shoe size.”
“Why do you need those things?”
I take a step closer and tug on her old rock band T-shirt. “Not that this isn’t sexy on you, but you’re going to need something a little more . . . expensive . . . if you’re going to be attached to me.” I lift her chin up with my index finger. “I’m also going to need your ring size. My fiancée will be properly adorned with a ring.”
She swallows hard. “Fine, but I’m going to need to know your dick size before you leave.”
“Why do you need to know that?” I ask.
“Because,” she says with a smile, “I need to know if I have to act like a happy fiancée, or a truly satisfied fiancée.”
Fuck, the ovaries on this girl. When was the last time I had such an honest, forthright conversation with a woman?
The back of my neck heats up as I say, “Trust me, you’re fucking satisfied.”
She shrugs. “I guess I’ll have to take your word for it.”
She walks over to her nightstand and pulls out a pen and a piece of paper and starts writing things down. I move around her messy room and say, “If your sister specializes in organization, how come your room is a disaster?”
“She’s tried to help me, but I’m a lost cause. Be happy you’re not living with me.”
You might be a lost cause to your sister, but you could be my victory.
