“At least you know she’s not sleeping with Grayson,” Grenadine said cheerfully, turning on the lamp. She reached over to pat me on the head.
“Don’t worry. Grayson’s not keeping some French girl in his penthouse. They don’t shave their pits or bits. Men find that alluring because they can pretend to be cavemen in the bush for like a few days, but then the novelty wears off when they’re picking the tenth pube out of their teeth.”
McKenna audibly gagged.
“Grayson will come crawling back to you,” Grenadine said assuredly. “Just make sure you keep yourself groomed.”
I swallowed. Gizzy stirred next to me on the cot.
“I don’t care,” I said, the words sounding hollow. “Good for him for finding someone. Grayson deserves to be happy. And I am happy for him. Besides, it’s not like we had a thing. Well, we had part of a thing, but not something that you could put a label on. We aren’t in a relationship. He’s not my boyfriend. He’s my boss that I had slept with one and half times.”
“Stop trying to find the good,” McKenna scolded. “Let’s plot how to run Little Miss Frenchy out of town.”
“How did I blow it?” I flopped back on the cot, and it screeched in protest. “I was too demanding, wasn’t I? I got too attached. I shouldn’t have called him or made him the scavenger hunt. I crowded him. I made him feel like I was trying to control him. I came on too strong, and I was bad in bed.”
“Virgins are bad in bed,” Grenadine agreed. “You should have had some practice before going after the big kahuna. It’s not personal.”
“What she means,” McKenna interrupted, “is that you’re awesome, and if Grayson wants some French supermodel instead of a homegrown busty American, that’s his loss.”
“No,” I groaned, “that’s his gain. She’s going to be the perfect corporate wife, someone all the other billionaires will be jealous of.”
“Screw him if he’s going to be shallow,” McKenna said.
“That’s the problem. I shouldn’t have screwed him.”
On Tuesday morning,the bags arrived before Grayson did.
I tried not to sound like I was about to go to a funeral as I thanked the driver who brought them up to the penthouse.
“You were just the fun lay, and one day you’re going to meet your real Prince Charming,” I told myself soothingly.
Except I didn’t want Prince Charming, I wanted Grayson. Even if he didn’t like plants and didn’t own any furniture and desperately needed to lighten up, I still … well, I was falling for him. Hard.
I dragged the suitcases to the laundry room to sort out the clothes—suits and shirts to the dry cleaner, shoes to be polished, underwear in the hamper for Mrs. Ortega to take care of.
I wrapped my arms around one of the suit jackets when I took it out of the hanging bag. It smelled like him, that masculine woodsy scent.
I took another sniff.
Perfume. I smelled perfume. Women’s perfume.
“Oh my gosh.” I couldn’t be there anymore.
“This is a sign to try harder to find a new job.”
Sitting at my desk watching him and his French supermodel make out in high definition through the glass wall of his office would be too much to bear. I’d have to plan their dates, make dinner reservations, and pack carefully curated baskets for their picnics in the park.
I picked up the case with the cuff links and millions of dollars’ worth of watches then glanced down at my own Minnie Mouse watch. It had been a birthday gift from my dad. At the time I had felt like a baller going to school.
Grayson did not want a girl who wore a Minnie Mouse watch. He wanted a woman who wore a Cartier watch like Princess Diana, or wore no watch because she didn’t need to know what time it was because she was hot and rich and had people to tell her what time it was or where she needed to be.
“Stop feeling sorry for yourself,” I scolded as I carefully made my way upstairs with the box.
Using a cloth, I polished the decorative metal before laying the watches carefully in the special watch drawer, because what was the point in being a billionaire if you didn’t have your own watch drawer in your master closet that was bigger than McKenna’s studio apartment.
“You don’t even have your own studio apartment. You mooch off Grayson. No wonder he found a supermodel.”
I heard his steps echoing through the empty penthouse as he came up the stairs and steeled myself.
