“Let us in! We brought food,” Zoey shouts.
“And furry snuggles,” Sinclair adds.
Smiling, I open the door and they barrel inside. It’s not even been a week, but these girls are already friends. Zoey was true to her word last night, taking us to a beautiful lounge with the best mocktails I’ve ever had. One where we weren’t bothered by anyone all evening.
Sinclair knew the owner and we were escorted straight to a private area where they regaled me with gossip about a model who was caught sucking off a rival designer backstage at Sinclair’s latest runway show. All the while wearing the show designer’s key piece, which she then got hisexcitementall over. She then strutted down the runway in it before the designer ripped it from her as she came off stage, then threw her out by her hair. Turns out the rival designer was her ex-husband who always had an eye for the models, even during their marriage. Obviously struck a nerve.
The distraction was exactly what I needed after hearing Sterling call me Hallie.
“What’s the occasion?” I ask as Zoey places the take-out bag on the kitchen counter and presents a hidden bottle from behind her back with a flourish.
“Oh? Just this!” Sinclair shifts Monty to one arm and grabs Zoey’s left hand, thrusting it into my face.
“An iceberg that’s about to sink the whole upper west side?” I squeal as I take in the huge diamond on her finger.
“And it’s a Beaufort,” Zoey trills.
“Please.” Sinclair rolls her eyes. “Like Ashton would let you have anything else. We are the best.” She bounces on her toes. “It’s gorgeous, isn’t it? It’s a custom design, based on the new line. No one’s even seen any of the new settings yet.”
I learned all about Zoey’s fiancé, Ashton, last night over drinks. He’s an artist who fell in love with Zoey when she posed for him and became his muse. His most famous work is of her. But he’d never seen her face and didn’t know it was her when they first met. They almost didn’t end up together.
I tilt her hand so I can admire the intricate swirls of platinum that the diamond is mounted with. They make a B shape, with a smaller yellow diamond nestled inside.
“Hidden treasure,” Sinclair muses. “Sullivan’s idea. He hassomegood ones.”
“Some?” I arch a brow as she deposits Monty into my arms so she can help Zoey as she opens cabinets and takes out glasses and plates.
Monty licks at my chin happily, and I tickle behind his ears.
“Ignore her. She’s feeling bitchy because she saw darling brother leaving The Lanceford last night,” Zoey says as she forks noodles out of a container onto plates.
“That’s a luxury hotel, right?” I ask, picturing the sleek black exterior that I walked past on my first day here when I was getting my bearings.
“Yep. Close to his office, and our store on Fifth.” Sinclair snorts. “He’s making it convenient for himself.”
“I don’t understand.”
“He fucks the women he picks up there. Only my brother would permanently book a multi-million-dollar apartment he never intends to stay more than a few hours a week in.” Sinclair screws up her face in disgust.
“It’s true.” Zoey lifts her brows as her eyes remain on the task of plating up the food. “He takes them there, then leaves a couple of hours later. Always a different woman… or two.”
“It’s gross. At least when he had his old place downtown, I didn’t have to see it. I can’t believe he’s moved his man-whoring pad to my neighborhood.” Sinclair grimaces as she pops the cork off the champagne, then takes a swig straight from the bottle. “Ugh, I forgot. It’s alcohol free.” She puts the bottle down with a heavy thud.
“You didn’t have to get alcohol free just because of me,” I say.
“We did. You inspired us to be healthier. Zoey and I decided we won’t drink Monday through Thursday. Why couldn’t I have seen Sullivan on a weekend? I need a drink after that.” Sinclair snorts.
Zoey pushes three plates piled high with food across the counter as Sinclair pours the champagne into three glasses. I slide into a seat, still cuddling Monty in one arm.
“Sullivan doesn’t have a girlfriend, then?” I ask as I get comfy and try the champagne. The bubbles fizz on my tongue. They have all the flavor I like. But none of the problems that alcohol can create.
“Not for two years, since…” Sinclair shrugs, fiddling with her necklace instead of saying the words out loud.
“He regularly beds women in his little pad that he thinks is a secret, though,” Zoey adds. “Just never anything serious. Same as Sterling.”
The hairs on the back of my neck prickle at his name. Of course I know he’s probably been intimate with other women since losing his wife. If he hadn’t, then my job would be even harder. It would be a sign he might not be ready.
“Dad doesn’t have a special apartment for it, though,” Sinclair says. “And I really don’t think there have been many, not like Sullivan.”
