No one likes your notes, don’t kid yourself.
“This … heffalump.”
I crumpled up the paper and opened the fridge, where his masculine handwriting, which wasn’t quite a cursive but wasmore elegant than blocky letters and looked the way a duke might write, greeted me. Not that the words were as elegant as the handwriting.
I’m glad to hear you enjoyed the food more than I enjoy your toxic positivity.
Screw him. I headed into the grand salon and taped another note above the fireplace. Like I said, this was an obnoxiously large penthouse.
A TV would go very nicely here. Then you could watch a Mr. Rogers marathon and learn how to be a decent human being *Smiley face*
In his study were more notes to me, under the bust of Marcus Aurelius:
Some people bring happiness wherever they go. Some whenever they leave.
In the couch cushions:
Pessimism is a hallmark of superior intellect.
And on the bookshelf:
It’s never too late to give up.
I sat down at his desk to pen furious responses, then I noticed it—taped to the window, another cream-colored piece of paper.
I snatched it off, expecting another snarky message. My eyes widened when I read it.
YOU’RE RIGHT, THE VIEW IS LOVELY.
14
GRAYSON
“Don’t suppose I can convince you to take a cookie, Mr. Richmond,” Nasr offered when I walked into the foyer of the tower.
“I told you to call me Grayson.”
“Habit,” he said. “Just had Mrs. Tremblay and her family come in for fashion week, and her mother does not want to be called by her first name. Cookie, Grayson?”
“I’m good, trying to watch my figure,” I joked.
“I would give one of my sons for your figure.”
“No, you wouldn’t.” I laughed.
“You’re right.” Nasr grinned.
“How are they?”
“The oldest is looking at colleges.”
“I told you I have a scholarship fund set up for your children.”
“And I told you that’s not necessary.”
“They should go to the best school.”
“Then they need to work and get scholarships,” Nasr said stubbornly.
