by Alina Jacobs
“Much better than the gas station version,” she said as she walked across the expansive space to the kitchen.
I followed her and picked up the brochure that lay on the long white marble island. “Seven thousand square feet of sexy real estate,” I said in a fake announcer’s voice. “Guaranteed to impress any woman with your newly gotten billions.”
Ivy snorted.
“You can’t say you aren’t impressed!” I joked to Ivy. She looked up at the ceiling. I crossed the distance between us. I wanted to kiss her. “Though,” I said when she didn’t move, “I can’t really see using this as a hookup pad. With these giant windows, you really have to think of lovemaking as a spectator sport.”
“Sex, shallow women, and fast cars—you’re a walking, barely coherently talking stereotype,” Ivy told me lightly as she moved around me to the staircase.
“Stereotypes are there for a reason. They rarely disappoint,” I said, admiring her ass as she walked up the open staircase to the top floor.
“Are you thinking of buying this place?” Ivy asked as I followed her into the master bedroom.
“I feel like you’re sending mixed signals,” I told her as she trailed her fingers along the bedspread.
Me, Ivy, this bed…
“I think you need to get better at reading women,” she said tartly.
“Is that a dig about Camilla?” I said, running after her. She was in the bathroom, inspecting the freestanding tub next to a window that looked out over the Hudson River.
“There’s his and hers sinks, but the toilet is on display. I mean, there’s sharing and then there’s sharing,” I commented. “See, this is why I’m not buying this place.”
“Why? Afraid your revolving door of rebound hookups are going to be offended by having to pee on display?” she teased, grabbing my arm for a split second.
“You have to admit,” I continued as we headed back downstairs, “that this place isn’t the best place to live.”
Ivy stopped on the step behind me. I turned. I was a few steps below her, and our mouths were at the same height. I could just lean in and kiss her.
“Of course you wouldn’t love this place,” she said. “I always knew you had terrible taste.”
Ivy was silent on the drive back to her condo.
“I’ll walk you up,” I said, parking the car in front of the squat brick building.
“No you won’t, because then you’ll never leave. Good night, Evan.”
I waited at least to make sure she was safely in her building, fighting the urge to run up after her, push her against the wall, and fuck her brains out.
My phone rang on the drive back. Camilla. I canceled the call, but she called back. Then the phone dinged with a message.
Camilla: You want that property? Then pick up.
“Fuck,” I said, clenching the steering wheel. The phone started ringing again.
“What do you want, Camilla?”
“I don’t understand why you can’t answer my calls. For someone who really wants my dad to sell him property, you sure aren’t being apologetic enough.”
“You cheated on me,” I snarled.
“Only because you pushed me to it!” Camilla whined. “You ignored me and didn’t buy me nice enough presents or support me in the wedding planning! This is your chance to make it up to me. Daddy said you were going to have dinner with me, and then he would discuss the property with you.”
I looked out the window at the blurred lights as I zoomed down the road. I did not want to reinvolve myself with Camilla. I wanted to move on and have a clean break. But the property… If I could get this deal done with the Svenssons, it would make my hedge fund a major power player in the real estate world.
What about Ivy?
Was she even interested?
It’s not like you want a relationship with her. You can’t right now anyway; you have too much baggage with Camilla. You were just trying to get her to sleep with you, nothing more. No one is going to get hurt by a dinner.
I took a deep breath then said, “How does tomorrow evening sound?”
21
Ivy
“Look at that swoon!” Mrs. Russo said, poking her head out her door when she heard me coming up the stairs. “That must have been some date.”
I grinned in spite of myself. Evan surprising me, the way he had pressed himself against me, the very personal outing that he had planned—I had to admit, I was impressed. He had only been in my apartment a few times, and I’d never talked about the clock tower penthouse, yet he’d just organized a date around it.
“It wasn’t a date.”
“Then what was it?” Mrs. Russo asked.
“Uh—” Good question. One that I wasn’t sure I wanted to consider.
He was just trying to sleep with you.
Was that a bad thing?
“You need to put a ring on that man,” my elderly neighbor said.
“I just met him!”
“Back in my day, people married quickly. Why, I met my first husband at a dance. A month later, we were married.” She sighed happily. “When you know, you know!”
“I do weddings for a living,” I countered. “An engagement has to last at least a year and a half just for the wedding planning, and ideally, you would have known the person several years before that.”
“A big fancy wedding?” Mrs. Russo scoffed. “We just went down to the courthouse; I wore my good church dress. Then he took me to Niagara Falls and fucked my brains out over the weekend in a seedy little motel. It was like a porn flick.”
That took a turn.
I lay in bed that night thinking about Evan.
Ivy: Is it a date if a guy takes you to a nice piece of real estate and brings a portable charcuterie tray?
Amy: Was it to a public place?
Ivy: It was the clock tower penthouse, and very private.
Grace: Sounds like a HOOKUP! Did you see his ding-dong?
Brea: I bet it’s way too big to be referred to as a ding-dong. You should call it his weapon.
Ivy: No and no.
Amy: Was he bringing up sex just randomly?
Ivy: A bit.
Grace: He definitely brought you there to fuck you.
Grace: I told you. He’s offering himself up to be your stress-relief valve.
Grace: Some of us need to experience sex through other people’s hookups please and thank you!
Elsie: Can we please not. The check just cleared, and our business is finally in the black. No sleeping with clients!
Sophie: I’m going to bake you a special cake for showing such self-restraint, Ivy. Good girl!
What if I don’t want to be a good girl? Maybe I want to be Evan’s bad girl.
The thought of Evan fucking me in that one-of-a-kind penthouse was enough to keep me tossing and turning all night, which was not going to work, because I needed to be on my A-game to deal with Imogen the next day.
He probably doesn’t even want you. He was just trying to push your buttons.
Yes, and I wanted him to push another button… with his tongue.
“Get it together,” I whispered to myself as the Uber parked in front of Evan’s condo.
I picked up one of the boxes and shimmied backward out of the car, dragging it with me over the seat. Then my ass bumped into something hard and a bit bulgy. I stood straight up, or tried to anyway, and ended up banging my head on the car door frame.
“Ow!” I yelped and started to sink down to the pavement. A pair of strong arms caught me.
“I knew I’d eventually have you fainting at my feet,” Evan’s familiar deep voice said.
“It’s only because you startled me,” I said crossly. “Why are you even out here?”
“To help you.”
Evan was still holding me in his arms. I should have pushed him away, but I didn’t.
“Don’t you have people to do that sort of thing?” I asked, reaching up to rub my head. Evan leaned over and pressed his lips to
the top of my head. I felt a bloom of warmth.
“I’m still trying to impress you with my entrepreneurial spirit.” He released me and picked up the heavy boxes. His biceps bulged under his suit jacket.
Bet you wish you’d slept with him.
It wasn’t as if he’d offered though. I chewed on my lip in the elevator, trying to read Evan’s mind and figure out what exactly his intentions were.
When we walked into his condo, however, I wished I had instead thought about how to handle Imogen. She was standing next to the long wooden table that separated the kitchen from the living area and tapping her foot.
“We’re going to need to have a more productive meeting today,” she said, blinking rapidly. “Gift bags are important. People are going to be Instagramming them, and they’re the last memory guests will have of my wedding. We want to leave a good impression.”
She took a sip of her tea as Evan slid the box onto the table. Mika hovered behind me as Imogen tapped her tablet to pull up the spreadsheet.
“She is on a twenty-four-hour lemon tea diet,” Mika whispered to me. “She’s especially angry today.”
“I looked through the bags and the notes,” I assured Imogen. “And I have several ideas for the gift bags.”
Teddy was slouched at the table, staring at his phone. Camilla stood beside her cousin. She sidled up to Evan when she saw him and slid her arm up his sleeve. I expected him to jerk away, but he just… stood there.
Evan is not your concern. Stop looking at him!
But he’s so handsome.
Camilla caught my eye, and I tore my gaze away from Evan.
“Instead of a bag,” I said, pulling out the mood board I had made, “I think we should do a custom-made wooden chest. Then the guests can use it for storage, and we’ll brand your wedding logo on it. I know a guy in Harrogate who can make them. He will handstamp leather handles,” I said, pointing to a picture. “All of the items in the box would be custom-made, including these darling little ceramic bird feeders.”
“Oh, what a cute idea!” Mika gushed. “Immie, isn’t that a great idea?”
“Boring,” Camilla said. “Ivy tried to sell me on those boxes for my wedding. Evan wanted them, of course. But I said no.”
“I agree,” Imogen said. “It’s derivative. I need something memorable. I want the press to cover my wedding.”
“Evan can surely have one of the magazines he owns do it,” her mother suggested.
“No, I want national news coverage of my wedding. I have to do something spectacular.”
“You could make a big donation to charity,” Evan said dryly.
Imogen looked at him in disgust. “Absolutely not. I want to give everyone a puppy.”
I blinked at her. “Excuse me?”
“I want to give everyone a corgi puppy as a wedding favor. That would show up stupid Kaitlyn and her succulents and betta fish she gave out.”
“I’m not sure live pets are a good idea,” I said weakly. “You have three hundred people coming to the wedding. I don’t even know where you could get enough puppies.” I felt faint.
“Imogen,” Teddy said, frowning, “that’s a silly idea.”
Thank God, someone sees reason.
“They can’t all be corgi puppies. You should have several different types. The men will all want hunting dogs.”
Are these people serious?
I looked at Evan. His face was expressionless.
“I think it’s a great Idea,” Camilla said. “You can have little ribbons around their necks with your logo.”
“What if people are allergic?” I said, grasping for any reason to shut this idea down.
“We’ll have allergy meds in the gift boxes,” Imogen’s mother said.
“When you secure the dogs,” Imogen told me, “make sure that they’re all the same color.”
“We have to have them there?” I squawked. The thought of three hundred puppies running around was making my eye twitch. “What if we provided a voucher?”
“I have to have the puppies there to hand out so everyone gets a puppy,” Imogen snapped. “Why are you trying to ruin my wedding? You work for me. Make it happen. And make the boxes look nice, too, since you seem so insistent on them. They need to complement the puppies.”
“Oh, I can’t wait for my corgi!” Camilla exclaimed, wrapping her arm around Evan’s waist. He looked annoyed and blew out a breath. “I love pictures of sexy men and cute puppies. Almost as much as a man with a baby!”
“Ivy,” Imogen barked, “I expect to see results on this. Teddy, come. We have a double date with the Cohens. Mika, take those gift bags back to my house.”
Mika gave me a quick hug, then collected the boxes and scuttled out the door after her family.
I looked at Evan. He and I were finally alone, though I was still reeling.
“That was certainly something,” I said weakly.
He nodded. He didn’t seem that focused on me. Was he mad that I had rebuffed him last night? I took a deep breath and went around the table to him and awkwardly put my hand on his jacket sleeve. He looked at it.
“Do you want to go have a drink and wind down from that meeting?” I offered. “I think we’ve earned it. And, uh, you know, maybe we can continue what we started last night?” I let my hand trail down his arm. I inwardly cringed at my terrible attempt at being flirtatious, especially when Evan stepped away from me.
“I can’t,” he said brusquely. “I have plans.”
“I’ll just be going then,” I said, trying not to cry. “I forgot I was supposed to meet the girls for drinks anyway. Don’t want to stand them up.”
I berated myself in the elevator on the way out of the fancy condo building.
Of course he didn’t want to have a drink with you. He was probably just being friendly yesterday, not flirting with you, and you are such a nice girl that you completely put him in the boyfriend zone. This is why your life is a disaster. Because you can’t behave like a functional human being.
I felt like I was going to die of humiliation. How was I going to face Evan again after my embarrassingly inept attempt at flirting?
Ivy: Drinks? Please? I’m desperate to drown my sorrows.
My friends were waiting at the Salt House restaurant that evening. Elsie used to work with one of the chefs there, and they always gave us free appetizers.
“I’m surprised you’re not off boinking Evan,” Grace commented when I sat down.
“He doesn’t want to,” I said dejectedly.
“Of course he does! He took you out on a date!” Amy reminded me.
“It wasn’t a date. He was just being friendly,” I said, jabbing a scallop. “I don’t think he wants anything to do with someone like me.”
“You mean a bossbabe with great tits?” Amy said. “Surely not!”
“Uh,” Brea interrupted with a frown, “is that Evan?”
We turned and looked to see Evan sitting at a nearby booth. A scantily clad woman slid into the booth beside him, her hands running up his chest possessively.
I couldn’t believe it. “Is that Camilla?”
22
Evan
I spent the rest of the day at the office, trying to work. But my mind kept returning to Ivy.
I had done a good job yesterday of convincing myself that she wasn’t into me and that I could play the sociopathic billionaire and pretend to be nice to Camilla in order to convince Orson to sell me that property. But then Ivy had come on to me earlier. I mean, I supposed that was what it was. She had asked if I wanted to grab drinks, and she had clearly touched my arm unprompted.
Forget going out with her. I want to bend her over the table and fuck her.
In hindsight, I wished I had kissed her last night. Hell, I wished I’d done other things to her that night too.
I debated on whether to cancel with Camilla. But I was so close to getting that property!
You aren’t getting back together with her, I reminded myself. You’re
just going to put on a show.
Camilla was waiting for me at the restaurant when my town car pulled up. She was in a super-short dress festooned with ruffles and buttons. She wrapped her hands around my arm and reached up to kiss me. I turned my head away.
“We’re here to talk business.”
Camilla pouted. “Don’t be like that, Evan. I still love you.”
I looked down at her hands still on my arm. She was still wearing the gaudy, oversized engagement ring she’d insisted I buy her. Before I could throw her off, she dragged me up to the hostess station.
“My fiancé is here,” she declared loudly.
“Congratulations,” the hostess said, picking up two menus.
“We’re not—” I gritted my teeth.
“You want that property?” Camilla hissed. “You better get on board.”
Jaw tense, I followed the hostess to a booth, Camilla hanging on my arm the entire way.
“I have us a couples counselor booked,” Camilla told me. “She’s really good. She’s one of the Kardashian’s marriage counselors.”
“I only said I was going to come to dinner with you,” I reminded her.
Camilla pouted. “Daddy said you were going to give us another chance. I need to see you put in the effort if you want me back. I cheated on you because I love you. I just wanted to make you jealous so you’d notice me.”
“I invited you to event after event, and you refused to go,” I reminded her.
“They were work events,” she whined. “You never planned anything special for the two of us.”
“I am a very busy man. I work a lot,” I said.
“Your dad doesn’t work that much,” she complained.
I saw red.
Camilla seemed to realize she had messed up. “I didn’t mean it like that!” She wrapped her arms around my neck and kissed me. “It was a onetime thing,” she breathed against my skin. “I thought it was you. I drank a lot, and I was so happy that you wanted me back.”
