The Billionaire Bargain #2(15)
“Oh, that is quite a story,” I said. “So there I was, crying in the office parking lot because some complete bitch had Facebook-stalked me just to message insults at me—” Annabelle’s face froze for a second here, and she blinked rapidly, presumably trying desperately to remember whether she was the one who had done that to me—“when Grant came along. I didn’t want to talk about it at first, but he insisted on treating me to dinner at this lovely local restaurant—Rama, have you heard of it?”
“You got dinner at Rama?” Annabelle interrupted, the look on her face as though I had claimed to have grabbed some nectar and ambrosia at Mount Olympus.
“Yeah, it was pretty decent,” I said offhandedly. “Anyway, before I knew it, he was asking me on a date, and then another date after that, and showering me with tickets to the opera and gold-dipped roses, and well, the rest is history! Such a sweet, generous man, and not a bit two-faced or opportunistic, like some people. My knight in shining armor.”
“Wow, that’s such a great story,” Annabelle chirped. “I’m so happy for you; I’ve missed you so much since school. Remember how we used to kid around and tease each other? Are you all set for the maid of honor—”
“Kate,” I interrupted.
“Oh, well, of course, but maybe bridesmaids…”
“Oh, I’ll think of some people,” I said. “People who have always stood by me and been my friend, not just when they thought they could get their greedy little paws on a piece of money and fame.” I smiled as sweetly as I could, showing all my teeth.
And for the first time that I could recall, Annabelle Featherstonehaugh was completely speechless.
“Oh, Lacey,” Kate said, “isn’t that your phone going off? We better get going if we’re going to make the party at that underground club Grant’s taking us to.”
And we swept away, leaving Annabelle behind, as wilted as a year-old prom corsage.
? ? ?
The numbers on the cash register climbed higher and higher until I thought they might take up mountaineering.
“You know,”I started, reaching for one of the more expensive pairs of shoes, diamond-encrusted vermillion Louboutins with seven-inch heels,“I don’t really need this stuff. When would I wear it? This is Grant’s money, and I don’t really have the right—”
Kate’s hand shot out to stop mine, faster than a striking rattlesnake.
“Oh no youdon’t, Lacey Newman. Did you even read those articles I brought you? Have you been paying attention in meetings at all this week? The share price of Devlin Media is going up like a freaking hot air balloon. Grant probably made, like, eight million bucks from the engagement while he was sleeping last night.”
Well, when she put it like that, a few dozen thousand dollars on pretty clothes and gifts didn’t seem like such a bad thing. Guilt? What guilt? This was couch cushion change to Grant.
“Excuse me?”I said to the cashier.“Do you mind holding all this for just one moment?”I grinned at Kate.“I do really love these shoes, and I think I’d like to get them in black, too.”
SIX
For the engagement party Grant opted out of the film noir car with its fancy chauffeur, picking me up instead in a cherry red convertible with fins so wide it would have been perfectly at home on the sets of a 1950s science fiction movie set on Mars.
“Aren’t you a little young to be having a midlife crisis?” I asked him as I got in, my thin turquoise dress flapping around my thighs in the breeze.
“Aren’t you a bit young to be a soul-sucking vampire?”he asked, sticking his tongue out at me as if he were seven years old.“I’ll inform you that‘Betty’here is a classic.”
“You named your car,” I said with eyebrows raised.
“I name all my cars,”he informed me.“The one with which you are most acquainted is Hepburn.”
His eyes were dancing, and I couldn’t help but laugh as I slid into the seat. I’d been planning on tearing him a new one, but I’d had a few days to decompress.
Today was sunny, Grant looked scrumptious in a tight red dress shirt and khaki slacks, and I couldn’t help but shiver a little inside at the ways his eyes tracked up my legs to the hem of my dress.
If I was going to be a part of this farce, I might as well have fun. That was what farces were for, weren’t they?
The mood stayed light and teasing as he drove out to the gently rolling hills of Napa Valley, the scenery growing ever more green as we descended into the heart of wine country.
Rows and rows of staked vines stretched out to the horizon, plump grapes peeking like polished sapphires and amethysts between the wide leaves as we raced by, kicking up dust on the country roads.
“The Devlin family vineyard concentrates primary on a variety of fruit-forward New World wines,”Grant was saying.“Though in recent years we have been experimenting with a more Old World, mineral Chardonnay. We do a very plush, concentrated Merlot, and White Zinfandel continues to be our most popular vintage. We use the same grape varieties passed down from the Korbel brothers—”
He chattered on and on about methodé champenoiseand acidity levels and all sorts of technical things that went flying over my head like hummingbirds, gesturing enthusiastically, his eyes sparkling more than any dessert wine ever could. Who cared that I didn’t understand a word he was saying, when he was so passionate about it?