I got up and dragged myself to the bathroom, and as the water heated to temperature, I brushed my teeth, extra hard, as if brushing away the feeling of Hugo’s tongue. His breath, his soft lips, and that tongue. When I stepped into the shower, I closed my eyes and put my head under the water, remembering what it felt like to have Hugo soaping up my body. My hand slipped from my thighs, then I pulled my head out from under the water and yanked my hand away from my perfectly trimmed pubes. I had to stop fantasizing about him. I had to move on.
Hugo: a lesson in not getting too attached to your clients. Lesson learned. Heart just bruised, not broken, I told myself. I wasn’t in love with him, but the idea of him. The perfect man with a great body, a good job (understatement), manners, class, and a heart of gold. Or platinum, as the case may be.
To keep from pleasuring myself to the fantasy of Hugo, I showered quickly, shampooed and didn’t bother to condition. Once out of the shower and towel dried, reality slapped me in the face.
A text from Hugo.
I checked the rent on tower three, I was incorrect, it’s $700 a month. Let me know if you’re still interested. Back to business, I see.
Like an extra hundred would run me off. Sorry, buddy, I’m desperate. Even though $700 may have felt like several thousand at the moment, it was still better than the actual several thousand I’d likely pay anywhere else downtown.
I didn’t respond. I had the meeting with Stella and could decide after we went through the office space that I’d hopefully use for my studio. He didn’t deserve a response. I’d tell Stella if I was going to take it or not.
Besides, not even an apology for leaving me in the lurch. For walking away after days of frolicking like it never even happened. Maybe he could compartmentalize, but I hadn’t learned that tactic yet.
Afraid I gained a few pounds from eating such incredible food in Vegas, I stepped on the scale before deciding what to wear. Holy, yes, I’d lost five pounds. This revelation called for a navy A-line miniskirt in a floral print with a pale yellow silk blouse with three-quarter length sleeves. Of course I’d tuck and roll the sleeves in my signature style. Oh, and high heels. I’d wear the navy Jimmy Choos Hugo had paid for. I deserved good things. And when I slipped my feet into the shoes, I felt rich, if only for a moment.
The drive to Mug Shots took longer than usual, since traffic had been a bear. When I arrived, I saw Orlean had beat me there. A rarity.
“I thought you were going to ditch me.” She stood when I walked in, adjusting her skirt, then sat back down. “Just kidding, I just got here. I already ordered for both of us.”
I didn’t want coffee. I wanted no caffeine, so when I finished hanging with Orlean and had my meeting with Stella, I could go back home and crash into a deep coma. But then the barista delivered the coffee cups, and I savored the white turtle mocha.
“It’s going to be a scorcher again today,” the young lady said.
“Which is why we’re here early, so we can enjoy the coffee the way it’s meant to be enjoyed. Hot.” Orlean lifted her cup in a “cheers” motion.
“Enjoy,” the chick walked away, looking puzzled.
“You realize we’re not early, right? This place opens at five.” I slurped around the whip cream in my coffee.
“Yeah, but it’s early for us, and it’s still in the 70s, so hot coffee it is.” She sipped her drink.
“Thanks for the coffee. How much do I owe you?” I reached into my handbag.
“Nothing, I owe you. I had sex with your brother for God’s sake. I should be paying for your coffee for life.” She stuck her finger in the whipped cream in her coffee and licked it off her finger in an erotic manner, pulling it slowly from her mouth.
“Orlean, I told you I don’t care that you did it with my brother. I just hope no one got their heart broken when you split.” I meant every word, except that I didn’t care that she dated my brother.
She shrugged. “I don’t think we were all that compatible, we just had a great sex life.”
“Eeew, I don’t want to know.” I put my coffee cup down, no longer craving the hot sweet flavor.
“Pretend it was someone else. I’ll burst if I don’t share with someone. And Gwen’s out of reach for at least another week.”
“Ugh, fine, just don’t say his name.” I picked my cup back up and tried to pretend she’d been dating Timmy or someone I didn’t know.
“He’s obsessed with gaming and coding, and we had nothing to talk about. I don’t even like video games. I tried to like them so we’d have something to do other than sex, but in the end, he picked his coding and the project he’s working on over me. He said I took too much of his time.”
I tried to pay attention to Orlean’s words, and nod and say “uh huh” in the right places, but I kept thinking I should introduce Bruce to Hugo, or Stella. Bruce needed to get a real job while he worked on his project (whatever his secret project was), and Hugo’s company wrote code and made games. Is that how it’s said, making games? Hell, who cared. I should tell Bruce about Hugo. It wouldn’t hurt to ask Stella if the company was hiring, since I was seeing her today.
I came back to the present to hear Orlean say, “‘Yeah, Orlean, the sex is getting in the way of my life.’ What a dick. I mean, isn’t sex the most important thing in a man’s life?”
I smirked. I could hear Bruce saying the words in my head. “Such a dick.”
“Right? Good thing I was only in it for the incredible sex. And I do mean your… He had a way with his joystick. Who’da thunk a gamer could be so adept in bed? I mean, it’s not like he’s spending his time watching porn. He spends it killing people and stealing cars, or whatever.”
I really didn’t want to know anything about my brother’s joystick. The only joystick I wanted was Hugo’s and I wasn’t about to talk to Orlean about it.
“So, it’s really over? I mean, moving on? Finité, finished?”
“To put a period on it, and I do mean period. He said he couldn’t be with me when I had my period. He didn’t want to have anything to do with it and then he said I took up too much time. Like, what a weirdo.” Orlean frowned. “And I know he never had any experience like me. I got that boy to try things he’d never even heard of.”
Now I’d heard enough about my brother. I couldn’t pretend it was someone else anymore. “Okay, that’s enough. It’s over and no one is worse for wear, right?”
“I don’t know about him, but I’m worn out. In a good way. I mean, oh baby.” She fanned herself. “At first, I walked funny for days.”
I cringed. “Dammit, Orlean, no. I don’t want to know that stuff. I don’t care about Bruce’s joystick. In fact, I don’t even want to know that he has one. Even if I have seen it.”
Orlean pushed her chair back quickly. “What? You’ve actually seen Bruce’s joystick and didn’t tell me and Gwen how he was hung?”
I groaned. “First, I meant his plastic joystick for his video games. And secondly, I’ve never looked at my brother’s penis. Even if I accidentally saw it, I sure wouldn’t brag to my friends about how big it was, or how little, for that fact. That’s just creepy and gross.”
“Fun hater,” Orlean pouted for half a second. “What about Hugo? Does he have a nice joystick?”
I didn’t know how much I wanted to share. That was such a lie, I wanted to brag about him. So I did.
After twenty minutes of giving Orlean every minute detail about me and Hugo’s sexcapades, I watched as her chin dropped nearly to the floor. I told her how boring Miles had been and how innovative and attentive Hugo was. What I didn’t tell her was how desperately I had wanted to come home and make love to him in his own house. I didn’t tell her how I hadn’t realized this was just a Vegas fling and that when we got home it was over.
“OMG, I’m so jealous. I mean Bruce was good, but from what you say Bruce could learn a few things from Hugo.” She waved both hands in front of her. “Forget I said that, Bruce was pretty freaking innovative after I gave him
a few pointers.”
I threw up in my mouth a little. Ick, Bruce and sex. Just ick.
“Yeah, it was fun while it lasted, but it’s over now. Back to the real world.” I sipped my lukewarm coffee as if Hugo’s reuniting with Kelsey didn’t break my heart.
I made sure I left out the part about him becoming aloof as soon as we boarded the helicopter. Or how he just abandoned me the moment he saw Kelsey. I could hardly tell the story to myself, much less say the words out loud to someone else.
“Yep, I hear you, sister, same with Bruce. It was fun while it lasted. Now I need to go out trolling for a new play toy.” Orlean downed the last of what was left in her coffee mug. “But the difference between me and you, is my tryst is done, history. We’ve got to find a way to get Hugo back.”
“Oh please, you and Bruce already said that she’s Princess Kate, and I’m Taylor Swift. There’s no way in hell I stand a chance, and I’m not going to play any games. Vegas was fun, but it’s over. I’ve got so much on my plate right now, the last thing I need is some man interfering with my thoughts.” Boy, I just lied through my teeth today, over and over again. Hugo commanded every other thought that ran through my mind. And I didn’t want to let the thoughts go.
Orlean stood. “I’m buying us another round.”
I stood and grabbed her by the arm. “No, I don’t need any more caffeine. I have a meeting with Stella in a little bit. We’re looking at a new studio for my business. Hugo’s offered to rent me one of the available offices in one of his towers on ‘Popovits Row’.”
Orlean literally shivered. “Oh honey, this is your chance. Let him see what a hard working girl you are and how successful you are, and he won’t be able to turn away from you.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me. You do know that Kelsey is one of the biggest philanthropists in the state, maybe in the country? No amount of work I do could come close to the work she does. And I’m not going to compete with her. She’s the love of Hugo’s life, and I was a Vegas fling.”
Orlean waved me away. “Fling, bling, give me a ring. I’m rearranging my showroom today, so I’ll have all kinds of time to think of ways to throw you and Hugo together. Mark my words, you two are meant to be together. Not just a Vegas fuck and suck.”
The word suck made my mouth water. Stop! That’s enough! Stop thinking about Hugo naked.
Orlean gathered up her purse and briefcase in one hand, then leaned in and gave me a hug.
“Please, Orlean, do not share the gory details with anyone else. Especially if you and my brother get back together. He does not need to know about my sex life, or lack thereof.”
Orlean put her thumb and finger together, then to her lips and zipped them. With that, she blew me a kiss and headed toward the door.
As I watched her walk away, I hoped she did come up with a plan for Hugo and me to get together. I’d say back together, but were we ever really together, other than physically, that is?
I blew out my breath from my lower lip, and wondered how I would get him off my mind if I ended up renting a studio in the building he owned. Maybe Stella would keep me so busy, I wouldn’t even have time to think, much less think about Hugo.
What’s that saying? Success is the best revenge?
Chapter Three
As I pulled onto “Popovits Row” I saw Stella standing outside Tower Two. She wore a black and white horizontal striped dress with a vintage blue-wash cropped denim jacket. And for the first time since I’d met, she wore flats. These flats were leather lace up sneakers with a green band around the back. At least from a distance I think it was green.
I pulled the SUV up to the valet parking and rolled down the passenger side window. “You do realize it’s almost 90° outside, right? And you’re wearing a denim jacket.”
Stella jogged up to the car and put her hands on the window frame. “Yes, as a matter fact, I know exactly what I’m wearing. I put it together this morning.” She twirled around. “What do you think?”
I nodded my approval, then asked, “Where would be a good place to park?”
“Unlock the door and let me in,” she said. After climbing in and settling into the passenger seat, she said, “Pull up to Tower Three, and use the valet.”
I drove the SUV back out onto the road. “I can’t afford valet parking.”
Stella punched me in the shoulder lightly. “Silly, the valet belongs to us. There’s no charge.”
I suddenly felt way in over my head. I did not belong with these people. I didn’t belong where people owned their own valet company who parked their cars for them in the buildings they owned. If I didn’t need a studio in downtown Dallas and didn’t want to waste the time looking for one in a price range I could afford, I’d have to deal with the fact that these people were filthy stinking rich, and even though they treated me well, I was not one of them. Nor would I ever be.
Turning into valet parking at Tower Three, I left the keys in the car, and Stella and I both headed toward the building. Stella walked so fast, she may as well have been jogging, as I had to jog to keep up with her. Not an easy task in Jimmy Choos, no matter how effortless Sarah Jessica Parker made it look in Sex and the City.
As she pushed through the doors, she said, “This building doesn’t have near the security, nor does it have the staff that Tower Two has, but it’s still a great building. And it’s still very safe for your clients.”
I nodded and followed Stella through the lobby of the building, which definitely had a different feel than any Popovits building I’d been in previously. It felt as if we had been transported to the 1930s. The iron frames on the glass doors gave way to a reception area with black and white checkered marble floors inlaid with gold. The walls were trimmed with crown molding and chandeliers hung from the ceiling. At the reception desk, a man and a woman stood in front of an enormous square painting from an artist I didn’t recognize. Both ends of the long desk held massive fresh flower arrangements in various shades of peach.
Stella waved quickly at the pair behind the reception desk, then made a hard right toward the elevators. The modern elevators had glass doors with incredible Art Deco metal moldings. And as if by magic, the doors opened before Stella even pushed a button.
She practically jumped into the elevator and grabbed my hand and held it. “We’re going to the twenty-fifth floor. Don’t you think your clients will be extremely impressed with this building?”
Yes, they would. I nodded again and ran the numbers in my head. The Art Deco interior design, the reception desk manned by two people not just one, and the twenty-fifth floor. No way the rent in this building was only $700 a month, unless the office was the size of a closet, which I doubted. We were in Texas, after all. But I wouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth. Hell, I couldn’t look any horse in the mouth, because I couldn’t afford a damn horse, not even a pony. I chose to keep my thoughts about the cost of the rent to myself as the elevator flew up to the twenty-fifth floor so fast, I swear my ears popped.
The doors opened into another reception area, this one much smaller. Before us stood three separate configurations of furniture: two arranged with four upholstered cream-colored chairs on either side of a long, low table, the other had a cream-colored upholstered sofa long enough to seat eight, with four cushioned chairs with metal arms in a metallic light chocolate color across from it. The tan colors of the marble floors melded with the walls, interrupted only by a dark wood shelf behind the reception desk.
On either side of the wall were double wide openings leading down the hallways. No one loitered in the reception area, and I didn’t see anyone behind the desk. Stella, still holding my hand, practically dragged me through the archway to the offices.
We turned left, then walked up to the third door. The space looked to be about a thousand square feet. Long and narrow, with a full wall of windows looking out onto the Dallas skyline.
“You just need to let us know what kind of blinds you want for the exterior and interior windows.” Ste
lla opened the door to the office.
“Oh my goodness, Stella, this is huge. It has to be over a thousand square feet. There is no possible way I can afford this.” My heart sank.
Stella walked into the middle of the room, which had wide plank hardwood floors, and twirled around like a girl in a meadow. “But you can. Didn’t Hugo tell you how much the rent was?”
I shook my head. “I can guarantee you, if I asked anyone else in this building what they were paying for rent they sure as shit wouldn’t say $700 a month.”
Stella stopped twirling and walked up and grabbed me by the shoulders. “First rule of business, you don’t ask the other tenants what they’re paying for rent.” Her words were clipped.
“This doesn’t make sense. I’m sure there’s a lineup of tenants who could pay you ten times the rent. Why on earth would you rent this to me for such a small sum?”
A huge smile spread across Stella’s face. “Because I like you. And when I like people, I like to have them around me. And, no offense, but I’m not headed to your neck of the woods to hang out in your neighborhood.”
I didn’t know whether to be flattered or insulted, so I just went with flattered. “Thanks? I guess.”
I walked around the perimeter of the office space and noticed a door in the corner. I looked back to Stella before opening it.
“It’s a bathroom,” she said matter-of-factly. “I think it’s one of five offices on this floor that has a private bathroom. That’s what makes this so perfect for your studio.”
I opened the door, and it indeed was a bathroom. A full-on master suite of a bathroom, with two toilet stalls that had their own bidets, a full shower and jet massage tub, and a counter with twin sinks. The design in the bathroom matched the interior design of the lobby to this floor. I closed the door again, overwhelmed by the generosity of the Popovits twins.
When I turned around, Stella stood on the far side of the room. I pulled out my phone and clicked off pics of the bathroom and the rest of the space.
“I figure we can build two dressing rooms along this wall,” she pointed, “then place your desk along that wall, so you have a great view of the city.”
Mine (Dressing a Billionaire Book 3): A Romantic Comedy Page 2
