Beauty and the Boss (Modern Fairytales #1)(32)

“No kidding,” Becca said drily.

“I’m an idiot.”

“Yeah.” She pushed her red hair out of her face. “Always have been, when it comes to men.”

Maggie frowned and pulled out two shot glasses. “Gee, thanks.”

“You overanalyze everything, and push every interested man out of the picture before they even have a chance to mess up.” Becca hopped up on the counter, swinging her legs. “It’s your MO”

“That’s because none of them ever make sense,” Maggie argued, pouring two shots. “Why waste my time when they never add up on paper?”

Her best friend shrugged. “And they never will. Which is why you do it, if you ask me. It gives you an excuse to get rid of them before they get too close and hurt you, like those other jerks did when you first moved here.”

That hit uncomfortably close to home. “That’s not true. It’s not my fault the men I’ve dated aren’t committed enough to prove me wrong.”

“You’ve been trying to keep this CEO of yours at a distance, haven’t you?”

“Yeah.” She tossed back the shot. “And?”

“And he hasn’t given up yet.” Becca joined her, downing the vodka. “Maybe he’s the guy you’ve been waiting for. The one who will fight for you.”

But what if he did? What if she let him win? They would sleep together, have a little fun, and when he realized the two of them didn’t make sense together—as he inevitably would—he would move on. She’d be left working for a man who no longer acted as if she existed, and she’d have a front row seat to all the society girls he paraded in front of her.

Maggie groaned. “You’re not helping matters. I’m supposed to listen to my head, not you, not my ovaries, and certainly not my heart.”

“If you ask me, you’ve done enough listening to your head. Maybe it’s time to try something new,” she argued, holding her hands up when Maggie scowled at her. “You could do worse than a rich CEO. That’s all I’m saying.”

“He doesn’t show any emotion. Like, ever.” She set the shot glass down. She refilled the glass and picked it up, glaring down at the ring it left on her counter. “I can never even begin to guess what he’s thinking. It’s infuriating.”

“So ask him.”

She snorted. “And when we break up—”

“You’re not even together yet.” Becca sighed and jumped off the counter. “You need to stop guessing how it’s going to end, and enjoy the ride.”

“Ugh. You sound like him.”

“Then he’s a smart man,” she said, picking up the new makeup she’d stopped at the store to get. She steered Maggie toward the bedroom, her hands on her shoulders as she propelled her forward. “Listen to us.”

“Like you listened to me when I told you Patrick was a bad idea?”

The other woman shrugged, not meeting Maggie’s eyes. “Yeah, he’s a bad idea. That’s why I picked him.”

“But—”

“Uh uh.” She pointed at Maggie. “This is my lecture, not yours. You have a rich hottie who wants to become your friend before getting in your pants, which is practically unheard of in the dating world nowadays, and you’re too busy worrying what other people will think of you to enjoy it.”

Well, when she said it like that…screw them. Screw everything. Maggie was gonna have some fun with Benjamin, and stop stressing so much.

Maybe it was the booze, or the pep talk, but Becca was right. She had spent her whole life not caring what people thought of her. Why should that change now? What was it about Benjamin, and his witch of a mother, that brought out the worst in her? Whatever it was, she was over it.

And she was done pushing Benjamin away, too.

Becca was right. It was time to take a leap of faith, for once in her life, and hope for the best. Maybe it was time to stop thinking so much, and start doing.

Turning, she hugged her best friend close. “I love you. What would I do without you here to tell me off?”

“I’m not sure.” Becca kissed the side of her head. “But lucky for you, you’ll never have to find out. You ready to kick some rich ass now?”

“Yep.” Grinning, she snapped her fingers. “Let’s do this. Make me a princess.”





Chapter Nine


Benjamin frowned at Maggie’s brownstone, his heart pounding harder than a racehorse’s hooves in the home stretch at the Kentucky Derby. He hadn’t been this nervous since… ever. He’d never been the anxious type, not even when he was younger. If shit needed to get done, he did it. If it was going to be a rough night, he grinned and bullshitted his way through it.

His mother had made it perfectly clear he was expected to bring someone proper to the party—and drop his “fiancée” like a hot potato—or he’d pay the price. He’d kindly told her to go to hell, and that he would bring Maggie to the party, and she would deal with it. But now that the moment was here, his palms were sweating, his heart was racing, and he felt as if he’d just finished running ten miles at the gym.

The second he brought Maggie into his world, she’d be subjected to all the petty snarkiness that was served in heaping portions at these events, alongside the champagne and caviar…which he probably should have thought about earlier, but he’d been too caught up in the plan.