Bet On It: An Age Gap Billionaire Office Romance(8)

I should have stayed home that night and this wouldn’t have happened.

Even as I thought that, I didn’t really believe it. I couldn’t regret my night with Reed. In fact, part of why I decided to move was because of that night.

But I needed to accept that this perfect job wasn’t to be. It was a disappointment not just because I felt it was a step up in my career, but also because having a job would make it easier to find my own place.

Betts had invited me to be her roommate, and I had come with enough in my savings to share in the rent and utilities. But it was clear that she was expecting Paul to pop the question to her anytime now, in which case she'd either move out to live with him or he'd come to live with her.

I suppose if she went to live with Paul, I could take over the lease on her condo, but I definitely needed a well-paying job to be able to afford it on my own.

God, why did the CEO of the company have to be the man I’d picked up last month? I knew why. It was my rotten luck.

I headed to the parking garage, and once inside my car, I texted Betts letting her know that I was on the way home with ice cream and wine. She sent back a sad emoji. Maybe I needed to take my meager savings and start investing in ice cream and wine, since it appeared they were going to feature predominantly in my life.

As I drove back to Betts's place, I began to rethink this move to Las Vegas. I read somewhere that huge decisions shouldn’t be made after a loss. I suppose the thought was that big decisions, particularly ones involving moving, could be a form of running away. At the time I made the decision to leave Chicago and moved to Las Vegas, I truly believed that I was running toward something. I was moving past the life I thought I was going to have with my ex and reaching for a new future.

But maybe I had been running away. Either way, it was too late now. I was here, and until I got a job and made some more money, I didn't have the resources to move back.

After picking up the wine and ice cream, I arrived back at Betts’s. I changed out of my wrinkled shirt and skirt and slipped into a comfy pair of sweats and an old college T-shirt.

Deciding not to wait for Betts to return from work, I got the ice cream and a glass of wine and sat at the table with my tablet, looking up job opportunities in the Las Vegas area. I’d already been through most of them, but there were several I had not applied to because I had set my sights on bigger roles. Maybe it was time to lower my standards.

I saw an entry-level opportunity at a social media marketing agency, and as I searched the website, I realized that the owner of it was the wife of the man who owned the club where I had met Reed. Amelia Clarke. I wondered if she and her husband had been able to rent the suite where it all began for them. I hoped so. It would be nice to think that somewhere in the world, happily ever after really existed.

I submitted my application to her agency knowing that I was overqualified for that role. But Amelia Clarke, who I had remembered as a social media influencer before she was married, could be a good mentor for me. Maybe someday, I'd open my own agency.

When Betts arrived home, she gave me a hug and told me to tell her all about the interview. It was only then that I realized I hadn’t told her what happened the night she had gone out with Paul, and instead of staying home like she thought I had, I'd gone and hooked up with a man who turned out to be the billionaire owner of a fantasy sports business.

Pouring myself another glass of wine, I settled in to tell her the whole story. When I finished, her mouth was agape in surprise, but her eyes were narrowed in what looked like hurt.

"Why didn't you tell me this before?"

I shrugged. "You were flying high on being with Paul, and I guess I was still sort of surprised that I did it at all. I guess I worried you wouldn't approve."

She waggled her spoon at me. "Well, it's not the safest thing in the world to go pick up a perfect stranger in a club and sleep with him, but at the same time, it sounds really sexy."

I gave her a wan smile. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you. It's not that I didn't want you to know. It's just I wasn't sure how I felt about it."

"So, what was it like walking into his office today?"

"Oh, my God. All I could think about were the things he'd done with his tongue. How can you have a serious job interview when you're imagining the guy who could be your boss doing things with his tongue?”

She laughed. "I wonder what he was thinking about you?"

"That's even worse. At first, I didn’t think he remembered me. But then I realized he did, except it was clear that he didn't have fond memories. He acted angry.”

“Angry? Why? Most men like to sleep with women.”

I sipped my wine. “I don’t know?”

“Maybe he didn’t like that you snuck away the next morning.” She picked up the bottle of wine to pour us both more.

“Isn’t that how hookups are supposed to end? I thought men liked it when women knew when to leave.”

"Maybe he didn't want it to be over yet. Maybe it was more than a hookup for him."

I snorted. “Yeah, right. We'd only just met. How could it be more?"

"I don't know. But you could've said goodbye."

I sagged back on the couch, nearly spilling my wine as it sloshed in my glass. "I suppose. It doesn't matter, anyway. I'm not getting the job."