Ah.
Well.
Um.
Lynn’s eyes sparkle as her and the rest of my small book club companions descend on me in a flurry the moment I knock on the door to Lynn’s sweet little suburban home. Faces perched around the phone she’s holding, she parrots the displayed article title, “Who is she?” Her teeth bare in a vicious grin. “WhatI’dlike to know is who ishe?”
It is quite unfortunate, but…I believe I have located…it.
Beth nudges Lynn in the arm. “He’sDamion Anders. Itsaysthat. Everywhere. Because he’s abillionaire?” Her blue eyes sparkle beyond the thin wire frames she shoves up on her nose.
“Now, Little Miss Mirabelle, where do you think the nice billionaire’s hand is?” Leeann cackles. “I thought you preferrednotto read that genre.”
Lynn swats Leeann. “Don’t antagonize the poor girl. She’s less likely to fund our funerals if you talk like that.”
My face blisters as the sensation I swear I onlyjustgot off my mind returns in full force.
“How does one go about seducing a billionaire?” Lynn asks.
“Oi, what was that about our funerals?” Leeann snaps.
“Bah! What do you think we have grandchildren for?” Beth grins, like a school girl. “Tell useverything. When did you two start dating?”
“We’re not dating,” I say, the words airy and floating. “We’re not. He’s my new boss.”
“Oooh,” rises from the three women.
“Billionaireandboss/employee?” Leeann giggles. “You’re spoiling us.”
“I promise we’re not. My car wasn’t starting and…” And he lied to me. I was so frazzled that night, I let him lie to me. The odd light wasn’t a streetlamp; it was acamera.
I am working for a liar.
Andthisis why security and brick walls appeared all around his property practically overnight. Amarella is no longer quite soquiet.
All the color that just rushed to my cheeks abruptly drains. “I…need to sit down.”
Lynn helps me into her living room, into my cozy little corner on the sofa, where I always sit, right by the window and the table, where I put the snacks I normally bring.Normallybeing when I’m not exhausted trying to adjust to a new job for a lonely grump who has—every single day for the past week—kept finding me and asking if he can help with whatever I’m doing.
“Oh, dearie,” Beth soothes, settling in beside me and resting her weathered hand on my shoulder. “We’re only teasing. Tell us about your fancy new job.”
Okay.Okay. Let’s think about this rationally. I’m a rational person. So that should be easy.
Right?
Right.
Of course.
Absolutely.
My breaths shorten, but I catch them, force air out and in with long pauses.
Fundamentally, does this matter?
No. I don’t think so.
Something that haunts me was simply…caught on camera…and distributed…en masse.ButI amnotdating Mr. Anders, and even though he lied to me, I am used to people lying to me like this. It’s one of those things they consider a little lie. He probably did it in an effort to protect me from the situation. It was, ultimately, an attempt at kindness.
