“No, I didn’t.” She deflates like a balloon.
“But—”
“There is no buts, Si. He took me for dinner last night,” I explain as I lower my ass to the couch. “He took me home and…” My words trail off as regret trickles through me.
“And what? Oh my god. Please tell me you let him in,” she says, wiggling her eyebrows. Apparently she doesn’t mean inside my apartment.
“No, I didn’t.” I drop my head into my hands and groan.
“What? What did you do?”
“I fucked up,” I mumble into my palms.
“How?”
I take a deep breath and confess what I did last night.
“So he was sitting in his car waiting to pick you up this morning outside the wrong building?” Sienna laughs.
“It’s not funny,” I complain.
“It kinda is,” Sienna argues.
“He was pissed.”
“Well, yeah. I bet most women do whatever they can to get him into their place to try to get their claws into him. And there you are, trying to keep him away.”
“That wasn’t…I wasn’t trying to keep him away. I just…I didn’t want him to judge me.”
“He already knows you’re not after his money,” Sienna assures me.
“Does he? One look at the area I’m living in, and he might have a different opinion.”
“Did he?”
“Did he what?”
“Have a different opinion of you because of where you live?”
“Um…”
“You need to stop worrying about what he might see and just allow him to get to know you. Your apartment doesn’t define who you are as a person, just like his reputation doesn’t define him.”
I know she’s right. But it doesn’t stop me from feeling like I’m not good enough, especially when he lives the life he does. I don’t want him to think I need him. I don’t need anyone. And I certainly don’t want his money.
“Bea?” Sienna urges as she joins me on the couch. “What is it?”
“He wants us to fake date as a publicity stunt.”
Sienna’s chin drops as she stares at me in disbelief.
“Are you serious?” she finally asks.
“Yeah. He mentioned it this morning. Apparently, they’re threatening to trade him if he doesn’t clean himself up. So Hailee suggested that we…” My words trail off. Sienna doesn’t need me to spell it out; she’s not an idiot.
“Wow. Okay,” she says, sinking back into the cushions. “What are you thinking?”
“I don’t know,” I confess, honestly. “That it’s crazy.”
