Mister Moneybags(10)

Dex: Ask me something interesting now. Something people would want to know.

Bianca: Since you seem to be the authority on what makes a good interview question, why don’t you tell me what YOU want people to know about you.

There was a bit of a pause this time before he answered.

Dex: I want them to know that I’m more than just some entitled dude in a suit, that I wake up every day vowing to make the most of every hour and to make a difference whether big or small. I am certain there are a lot of preconceived notions about me. Almost all of them are untrue. People assume my keeping out of the public eye is a gimmick to somehow mystify myself as an elusive celebrity. The truth is…I’m just trying to grasp onto some semblance of normalcy. I’m a regular guy who wants peace in his life, Bianca. Not some big bad wolf who gets a rise out of cancelling on beautiful, brown-eyed girls from Staten Island.

That last line threw me for a loop and made my skin heat up.

Bianca: How do you know I have brown eyes?

Dex: I’m looking at your bio on the Finance Times website.

Feeling vulnerable that he was scrutinizing my looks, I tried to change the subject.

Bianca: What else do you think people want to know about you?

Dex: Don’t change the subject off of you. You’re beautiful, by the way. Let’s discuss that. It’s more fun than talking about me.

Bianca: Let’s not.

Dex: It’s my turn to ask you a question. Did you think I forgot?

Bianca: What?

Dex: What do you want people to know about you, Bianca George?

Bianca: I want to be taken seriously by millionaires I am trying to interview.

Dex: I’m taking you very seriously. And I want to know more. Now answer my question. What do you want people to know about you?

God, he was putting me on the spot. But for some odd reason, I was warming up to this man. I didn’t really feel like coming up with yet another sarcastic response when, in fact, he’d been nothing but completely genuine with me this entire time. It was much less exhausting to just be honest. So, I simply answered his question truthfully.

Bianca: I’m just a girl who wants to be happy. I don’t need money or a prestigious job. I left Wall Street because I couldn’t hack it. It’s why I do this for a living instead. I am not perfect. I do sometimes carry some preconceived notions about people of power, though. That probably comes from watching my hard-working parents get screwed over by such people over the years. But even in the little time that we have corresponded tonight, I can see that you’re quite different from what I expected. I made assumptions about you that were incorrect. So, one thing I definitely want people to know about me is that I am not afraid to admit when I’m wrong.

Dex: Thank you.

Bianca: Well, you’ve been very open with me. So, I felt I owed you that much.

Dex: Forget the interview. What do YOU want to know about me?

Bianca: If you want the shallow truth, I’m most curious about what you look like at this point. I’m really dying to know.

Dex: LOL. Bianca George, you are definitely nothing if not honest. So…what is it…you think I don’t allow myself to be photographed because I’m grossly unattractive?

Bianca: I didn’t say that.

Dex: But you’re thinking it.

I couldn’t stop smiling.

Dex: Would you like to see me?

My heart started to pound at the prospect of getting to see what he looked like. What was wrong with me? But there was only one answer to his question.

Bianca: Yes.

A few seconds later, he attached an image. After I clicked on it, I nearly lost my breath.

Oh.

It was a photo of a man lying back on his bed. His torso was ripped…tanned…almost bronze. It almost looked fake, because it was just too damn perfect. This was probably the most amazing chest and abs I’d ever seen. The photo cut off at the bottom, only showing the top of his black boxers that had Emporio Armani written on the band in white. A thin trail of hair ran down the center of his defined V muscle. Holy shit.

I couldn’t stop staring at it.

This was not what I was expecting. At all. In fact, I couldn’t believe it. It had to be a fake.

When I was finally able to pry my eyes away from the chiseled bronze statuette of a man, I typed.

Bianca: That is NOT you.





I wished I could have seen her face.

Fuck. I wished I could have done a lot more than that. This chat with Bianca was killing me. I was suddenly hard as a rock, knowing that she was looking at my photo.

Dex: It is me.

Bianca: I don’t believe that. Admit it. You stole the picture from Pinterest. LOL.

My jaw hurt from smiling. After grabbing a pen and paper out of my night table, I wrote HI, BIANCA GEORGE then snapped a photo with it covering my face, making sure that my body was once again on full display. I chose to cut it off at the waist since any lower, she would have seen the rock-hard erection I was sporting as a result of this little exchange.

Dex: Believe it’s me now?

Bianca: Okay, so you’re attractive.

Dex: Why, thank you. But you still haven’t seen my face. I’m afraid you won’t tonight.

An odd sensation suddenly came over me. One I could honestly say I had never felt before. It was jealousy. But not just any jealousy. Jealousy of my own f*cking self. Suddenly, Jay wanted to f*ck up Dex in the worst way.