“I’ll start pulling out your makeup. Meet you in the bathroom.”
Exactly fifteen minutes later, I’m sitting on the toilet, dressed, and my hair up while Shiloh puts the finishing touches on the quickest makeup job ever. Suddenly, she pauses. “Is that your phone buzzing?”
I strain to listen, but she’s already heading toward the bedroom. A handful of seconds later, she returns with my cell. “Three texts and four missed calls. All from him.”
My stomach drops as I quickly read through the texts. The first two came back-to-back.
You hung up on me?
No one hangs up on me.
The third came only a moment ago.
I’m turning down your block.
The most recent missed call came right after that. I hit redial and scramble to find my shoes, preparing an apology when he answers. “I’m not happy,” he says, forgoing any greeting.
“I’m sorry. I was—”
“You can defend yourself on the ride into the city. I’m circling the block until you get down here.” This time he hangs up on me.
Shiloh seems to have heard him because she doesn’t ask questions. “Grab your purse. I’ll get the hairspray and l*pstick and we can finish putting you together in the elevator.”
Five minutes later, we’re standing on the sidewalk when the most gorgeous Bentley Continental GT pulls up, in front of the fire hydrant, no less, because of course Hadrian gives no f**ks about the law.
And when I say gorgeous, I mean gorgeous.
It’s totally a sports car, but a super luxury version, all speed and money.
Needless to say, it’s very Hadrian Seymour.
“Holy f**k,” Shiloh whispers, as the tinted driver side window rolls down to reveal a sunglass-wearing Hadrian behind the wheel. “Hot.”
“The car or the man?”
“Yes.”
At least, she understands my dilemma. I’m not even into cars, but I might even fantasize about this later tonight.
Right now though, he’s looking at me expectantly. Probably wanting me to circle around and get in the passenger seat, but my friend is standing by me. “Hadrian, this is Sh—”
He cuts me off. “What are you wearing?”
I look down at the dress, as if it will be something other than what I know I put on. “You said something like—”
“Like is the keyword. You can’t wear the same thing. Isn’t that a rule you women made?” He’s terse, and I can feel Shiloh at my side, itching to stand up for me.
I put my hand on her arm to stop her before she says anything that will do damage. Besides, I need to prove to her I can handle myself with Hadrian. “I don’t have anything else that’s this caliber,” I explain. “If I’d had more time, I could have purchased something, but even then, it probably wouldn’t have been this nice.”
“You’re saying you don’t possess the wardrobe for the job you want.”
“Because I also don’t possess the salary of the job I want. Funny how that works.”
A car honks, and I look up to see if it’s a cop. It’s not, thankfully.
Hadrian doesn’t even look. Doesn’t seem to care if he’s holding up traffic or not. He does check his watch, though, and frowns. “We’ll have to skip the luncheon. It will be tight. Let’s go.”
I turn to say something to Shiloh, but he won’t even afford me the courtesy of telling her goodbye. “We’re running late, Brystin. Get in.”
Sorry, I mouth to her, as I circle around to the passenger side. She does the universal gesture for call me then waves.
I give her the universal gesture for pray for me. Then I slide into his car, and hope I’m not a willing lamb off to slaughter.
As soon as my passenger door is shut, Hadrian pulls away. “Seat belt,” he says, as though I’m not already scrambling to buckle in.
I try very hard not to blow.
Unfortunately, I’m not successful. “All right, assHadrian. I know that we have an arrangement, but that doesn’t give you permission to be a complete and ut—”
He puts his hand up to silence me. For some reason, I obey him.
Then he pushes a b**ton on the steering wheel. “Call Adly.”
I cross my arms over myself and wait while the phone rings, frustrated at being cut off. Pissed at submitting to his every command. Infuriated by the man’s mere existence.
Still my silly brain finds room for concern and I hope this was how he sent the texts he sent me—using voice technology. I hate to think of him typing them out on his phone while he was driving.
Actually, I take that back. I don’t care.
I mean, of course I don’t want him to get in an accident, but mostly because that would be an obstacle on the pathway to getting our contract signed. No other reason.
Besides, he’s fine. He made it to my apartment and is now using our time together to try to talk to someone else.
Argh!
Adly answers on the fourth ring, her voice filling the car. “If you’re calling to tell me you’re going to be late, I don’t want to hear it.”
“I’m going to be late.”
She groans. “This happens once a year, Hadrian. You could make an effort for one fl*pping day a—”
He interrupts her, which is validating since it seems to be a him issue in general, and not just something he does to me. “I don’t have the energy for this right now, Ad. And that was secondary information. Not the reason why I was calling.”
“That makes more sense. You’re usually late without the courtesy of informing me beforehand.”
I stifle a laugh, knowing that I should probably try not to listen in on this personal call. On the other hand, if he wanted privacy, he could have called before I got in the car.
He glances at me, seeming unamused by my amusement. “I need you to get me in with your friend that owns the boutique.”
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.
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