“I applaud your self-control,” I say with a reluctant grin. “But if it’s not about him, why hire Cuddle Carl?”
“In support of a lie.” She gives a dramatic exhale, her bravado seeping out of her. “A lie I’ve been repeating for months.”
“That you have a boyfriend,” I guess.
“No. Kind of.” She gives her head a tiny shake. “That one of them won’t be taking me home at the end of tonight, no matter who has better odds.”
“Odds? You can’t mean . . .”
“That they’ve been running a book?” She nods. “It’s open season on the new boss’s ex since. I told them I had a boyfriend, not that it made one bit of difference. They don’t believe that I’m gonna show up with someone, despite my talking my invisible boyfriend up at every opportunity.”
“What?”The fuck.
“I know, right? I’ve sent myself flowers. Candies. Commissioned cute sketches and said they were from my artist boyfriend. What kind of a nutjob goes to all that amount of trouble? Well, I’ll tell you what kind of nutjob. You’re looking at her.”
“Fuck that. You should drag their arses to HR.”
“It’s a family firm. Old-school mentalities where boys will be boys. Meanwhile, men ...”
Men, on the other hand, do the right thing. They open doors. Offer seats. Put cloaks over puddles and ... annihilate misogyny? Or at least I was raised to treat people well. To have respect. And wouldn’t I have liked someone to rescue me from my ex’s tirade earlier?
“Looks like they’re right, anyway. I’ll be there alone.”
I almost groan with frustration. I’m no white knight, but that doesn’t stop me from feeling like I ought to do something, my desire for a quiet drink and my integrity pulling me in opposite directions.
“Maybe I should just get drunk and pick one of them. Get it over with.”
“You don’t strike me as stupid,” I reply, unsure why my internal organs hate the sound of that. Not my circus, not my clowns, right?
“Part of me wonders if it might put an end to their fascination.”
“It won’t.”
In answer, she gives a careless shrug.
“Why hasn’t he done anything about this—your ex—if he’s the boss now?”
“The man who slept in my bed while professing his undying love to someone else? The same man who has wheedled his way into the CEO’s family?” She gives a whiplash flick of her wrist. “You tell me.”
I dip my head as I rub my hand over my mouth. Mainly to stop myself from calling a complete stranger a string of very offensive words. “You’re better off without him.” If my frown gets any deeper, I’ll be able to offer her a seat on it.An invitation I’ll keep to myself.
“Maybe I should beat all their brains into the industrial carpeting.”
“Maybe you should.”
“You don’t think I’m too pretty for prison?”
I give in to a reluctant smile. I’ve heard it said that the crazy ones are crazy hot in bed. Not that I ...
“I’m tired of repeating that I’m not interested. That I have a boyfriend. That I’m off limits. That their jokes are old and uncalled for.”
“It’s so fucking wrong,” I put in, my tone low and angry on her behalf.
“But it’s my experience. I just don’t think that I can take things getting any worse.”
I must be soft in the head. I don’t know which is worse—that I’m contemplating giving in or the fact that I’ll have to pretend to be a ...
Gigolo?
