A Not So Meet Cute(46)
I glance down at my plate, a smile testing my lips, as the thought of walking around to Darth Vader’s theme song is humorous. “Consider it my second choice.” I clear my throat and try to continue with this meeting. “Concerning your job—”
“That has nothing to do with you.”
“I said I’d help your sister’s business. I have the connections she needs. Is your ego, your pride, too big for you to sit down with me and talk about her business?”
I can tell from the set of her jaw that she doesn’t like my approach, but too bad. A deal is a deal.
“No, but I’m not sure we need you butting in, either.”
“How much is she paying you, again?” I ask while bringing my mug to my lips, fully aware Lottie is getting paid nothing for the time being.
“God, you’re such an ass. Here I thought you were normal for a second because you like Foreigner, but then you go and say something like that.” She shakes her head. “Every business has to start from somewhere, so before you start judging—”
“I’m not judging. I’m attempting to help you, but you aren’t allowing that to happen.”
“I don’t want your help.”
“Then why are you here?” I shoot back, keeping my voice low.
She goes to answer, but then closes her mouth and leans back against her chair. She stares at her plate for a few seconds, then picks up her napkin, tosses it on her plate, and lifts up from her chair. She walks out of the dining room and back up the stairs.
Great. Just fucking great.
Chapter Ten
LOTTIE
Before I could lay eyes on Huxley this morning, I slipped out of the house, fully dressed in some silky dress that’s far too flattering. The material feels like a cloud gently wrapped around me. Damn these expensive clothes.
I wanted nothing to do with him, nor did I want him asking me questions.
Yesterday was dreadful. After breakfast, I slipped up to my room, where I wrote down all of my ideas for Kelsey’s business and how to improve it. Lunch and dinner were spent sitting in silence next to Huxley until I was able to slip away again. I haven’t seen him since dinner last night, and I prefer it that way.
When I went to get into my car to drive over to Kelsey’s this morning, I realized—guess who doesn’t have a car here? So, I walked down the block and ordered an Uber to get me to West Hollywood.
Now, with our favorite coffee in hand, I walk up to Kelsey’s apartment, excited to see her and give her all the gory details. I knock on the door and wait. It’s early, but hopefully she’s up and ready for the day.
The door opens and—
“What the actual fuck are you doing here?” I ask Huxley, who stands on the other side of the door.
In a sarcastic tone, he says, “You didn’t give me a kiss goodbye.”
Pushing past him, I say, “Crawl up your own scrotum and drown.” I find Kelsey in the kitchen, eating a bagel with a huge smile on her face. “Why did you let him into your apartment?”
“I thought there was something wrong, like something happened to you. Then he told me you didn’t say bye to him and I felt bad.”
I spin around to glare at Huxley. He’s dressed for the day in a deep blue suit, white button-up shirt, and a slate colored tie. Not one hair is out of place on his head, and he has just enough scruff to make him look positively intimidating.
“How on earth are you ready and dressed?”
“If you shared a room with me, you’d know I wake up at four to start my day.”
“God, you’re mental.” I hand Kelsey her coffee and say, “I shouldn’t even give this to you, since you seem to enjoy my slow torture.”
“He’s actually a pretty nice guy,” Kelsey says.
“To whom? To you? Of course he is, because he doesn’t see you as his puppet. Believe me, if you were in the trenches like me, you’d think differently.”
Kelsey fingers the sleeve of my dress. “You consider designer clothes being in the trenches?”
Pompously, Huxley sticks his hands in his pockets and rocks back on his heels, a grin on his stupidly handsome face.
“I’d rather be naked than have to deal with him.”
“We can arrange that,” Huxley says, causing my sister to chuckle.
“Hey,” I snap at her, “whose side are you on?”
“Yours, of course. Always on your side, sis. But this is far too entertaining.”
Groaning, I turn back to Huxley and say, “I have no idea why you’re here, but I need you to leave so I can talk about you behind your back with my sister.”
From his pants pocket, he pulls out a black card and holds it in front of me.
“What’s that?”
“The key to your car.”
“That’s not a key, that’s a credit card.”
He shakes his head. “It unlocks your car and you need it to drive the car so yeah, it’s a key. It’s the white Model 3 in the front parking spot of this building. I expect you to drive it. The PIN number you’ll also need to drive it is written down inside the envelope on the table.” When I don’t take the card from him, he steps up to me and slips it right into my cleavage. “Have a great day . . . sweetheart.”