Page 64 of Billionaire Grump
I have one message from Cleo.
CALL ME
And none from Josh. Damn it, Josh. You better have taken care of it.
I take a selfie with a backdrop of the view and send it to Cleo.
My phone immediately rings with a FaceTime call.
I almost don’t answer it, but then she’ll worry and there’s no point putting off the inevitable. “Hey, Clee.”
“I want to hear about everything. How was your night?”
“It was…good.” I almost smile at the understatement, but I make a point of not being too obvious. It was extremely hot and exceptionally orgasmic. It was also somehow absolutely perfect.
“How did the whole sharing one bed thing go? Was it awkward?”
What to say? “No. No, it was fine. I slept really well, actually.” Not a total lie. Those last few hours of sleeping in were the restorative REM kind of sleep.
I will end up telling Cleo at least most of what happened, but I can’t do it now. I’m still only halfway through the weekend and at this point, anything could happen. Plus I’m not quite ready to talk about what happened last night. It’s a monumentally big deal and I need to process it before I can provide a detailed tell-all to my very inquisitive bestie.
“Is he being nice?”
“Yes, he’s being nice. He’s actually not as grumpy as I was expecting.”
“That’s good. Is he there? Am I on speaker?”
“No, he’s gone fishing with the groom and a few other guys from the bridal party.”
“I’m glad he’s being civilized, Ive. I give Alexander a hard time because he’s always scowling at everyone when he comes to meetings at IE, but I’ve always thought there’s a lot more to him. His brothers always say his bark is worse than his bite and that he’s carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, but somehow his heart of gold remains intact.”
It’s a nice description, and it fits.
“He’s just a hard nut to crack,” she adds.
Actually not that hard. “You should see the breakfast he ordered for me.” I wander inside and point my camera at the table full of food.
“Holy shit. And flowers? Wait…did you guys…hook up?”
“What?” I laugh. “Of course not. He was just saying thank you. For doing this whole fake date thing.” I hate lying to her but she’ll go absolutely apeshit if I tell her the truth, and I’m still figuring out how to navigate this whole situation. It’s hard enough to come to terms with the thought of what I’ve just done, I can’t yet deal with the reality—and saying the words will make the whole thing much more real.
Oh and by the way, Clee, Alexander Maddox just boned me into next week. It was my very first time and my very first orgasm—as well as my second, third, fourth, fifth and sixth—and now I can barely walk. Oh, and we also didn’t use protection of any kind whatsoever so I could possibly dealing with ten different kinds of fallout from that, any one of which could completely change my life, and not necessarily in a good way. But how are you?
It’s a lot. So I choose the more forgiving path, at least until I can talk about it with her in person. “He’s been a complete gentleman.” In public. In private, he’s a well-hung caveman with mad skills and a dirty mind.
“What time’s the wedding?” she asks, totally buying my lie.
I know she’ll forgive me when I get a chance to explain everything. “Two o’clock. Until then, I’m going to go work on my tan by the infinity pool.”
“Wear that little animal print bikini I packed for you.”
“Thanks for not packing me any undies, by the way.”
She giggles. “Sorry. I might just be veeerrry secretly hoping that you two will fall madly in love and ride off happily into a beautiful sunset together.”
“Yeah right.” My heart skips a beat at her description. I have to remind myself that isn’t going to happen. Alexander is not my handsome billionaire boyfriend and—hot sex or no hot sex—I’m still here to play a role. I pull the tiny shred of animal skin fabric out of my suitcase. “You mean this one?”
“When he sees you in that…all bets are off. You’re going to totally scandalize the Hamptons. God, I wish I was there to see their faces.”