Mister Moneybags(16)

“So, you have to bend over backwards to accommodate his schedule?”

Two things were wrong with that question. One: I was making Dex look bad. Two: I was getting hard thinking about her bending over backwards with her legs open for Dex. Again…f*cked up.

“Actually, it’s worked out well to have a set time at night. His daytime schedule is too full. It won’t be forever. My deadline is coming up at the end of the month.”

Funny you should say that. So is mine.

“Okay, well, we have at least an hour before I have to drop you home. What would you like to do?”

“Honestly? I would love to see where you live, if it’s not too far from me in SoHo. Maybe have a cup of coffee.”

“Really?”

“I hope asking to go to your apartment doesn’t sound too presumptuous.”

“No. Not at all.”

The reality of how far I’d taken this Jay lie really hit me in the moment. Knowing that my alter-ego was going to need a place to take Bianca to, I had rented a furnished apartment through an agency on a month-to-month agreement. How had I gotten myself here? If what I’d done ever came out, it was going to sound dirty—like I’d rented a f*ck pad somewhere. When the truth of the matter was, I was inexplicably crazy about this woman and kept digging myself deeper in an attempt to buy more time with her. The entire thing made no sense to me, how would I ever get her to understand that down deep I’d done all this with the best of intentions.

She smiled at me with those big brown eyes, and somehow I justified my actions…again. “What part of the city do you live in?”

I had to think. Where did I live? I hadn’t had a chance to visit the place yet, even though Josephine had gotten me the key. This was going to be a risk, but I didn’t know how to get out of it. I checked my phone, pretending to look at the time and instead discreetly checked my email for the address of my “house.”

“I live in NoHo.”

“That’s perfect, then.” She grinned.

Yeah. Perfect.





An old man who apparently lived next to me gave us the evil eye as we stood in front of my door. Then, he disappeared into his own apartment.

“You don’t normally say hello to your neighbors?”

Not when they don’t know who the f*ck I am, no.

“That guy doesn’t like me very much. He’s always complaining when I play music.”

Upon opening the door and getting a look at what we were stepping into, I was ready to kill someone.

This looked nothing like the furnished apartment I saw online. The décor was tacky and ostentatious with lots of white, purple, and gold accents. I was completely speechless. How the hell was I going to explain this one?

Things took an even weirder turn when I spotted a humungous portrait of Elvis hanging on the wall. And, in the other corner was a life-size statue of Liza Minnelli.

Bianca’s mouth was hanging open. “This is…”

“My aunt’s place,” I quickly said. “She…died. And left me the apartment. I haven’t had the heart to change her signature style.”

“That’s so sweet of you. How long ago did she pass away?”

“About a year now. Eventually, I’ll redecorate, but it just seems too soon.”

She rubbed my shoulder. “I can understand that.”

God, I was getting so f*cking sick of this. I just wanted to take her into my arms and tell her everything. Why couldn’t I?

She basically answered my question when she suddenly gripped the material of my shirt and pulled me into a kiss.

That was why.

I was going to lose this.

Nope. I wasn’t ready to tell her anything, because there was a very good chance I would never get to feel this again. She didn’t like liars, and you, Dexter Truitt…Jay Reed…whoever you are…are a liar.

A coldness replaced the warmth of her body as she stepped away. “Can I use your bathroom?”

“Sure, it’s…actually…”

Where the f*ck was it?

“Let me just check and make sure it’s presentable. I might have left some laundry on the floor this morning, not expecting you to come back here. Be right back.”

My heart was pounding as I ventured down the hall, opening each door until I found the bathroom.

Thank f*ck I checked it. There was a huge stack of porn magazines next to the toilet. Without thinking it through, I opened the bathroom window and threw them out, praying they didn’t hit anyone on the head on the street below. Beads of sweat were forming on my forehead at the mere thought of having to explain that one to her.

“Everything’s decent,” I said, returning to the living room. “Last door straight ahead down the hall.”

With every second that she was in the bathroom, I became more and more paranoid about being in this place, about what else she might find. I remembered she mentioned coffee. Considering the cupboards were likely empty, I made a decision to get us the hell out of here. We’d passed a Starbucks around the corner on the way in. I’d suggest we go there.

When she emerged, I said, “I just remembered I’m all out of coffee. How about we head out for some before I have to take you home?”

“Okay…that would be nice. By the way, why does it smell like mothballs in this place?”