“Suffocated?” I asked.
“Not exactly that, but it’s not my style. This is for people who want people to think they’re rich. I am rich, so I don’t need to try to impress anyone.”
“Excuse me?” The salesman interrupted.
Hugo didn’t respond to him, and I’d gotten the feeling Hugo had him tongue tied, because his vocabulary seemed to consist of only those two words.
Hugo looked at the girls peering from around the rack of shirts. “You ladies, too. Believe me, if you were in the class of people buying these clothes, you wouldn’t be selling them. You’re not fooling anyone.”
He took my hand and walked out of the store. Not impressed. I thought I heard the girl say to the guy, “That was Hugo Popovits. He’s a billionaire. She’s with a billionaire. You are so fucked.”
I thought about Kelsey for a second, then squeezed Hugo’s hand. “Ever seen the movie Pretty Woman?”
He stopped walking and looked at me. “No, I haven’t.”
“We’re watching it tonight,” I said.
He gave a quick nod. “Okay.”
We walked into a few more stores, but he didn’t find anything he liked.
“Your turn,” he said.
“What do you mean?”
“Pick a store. In fact, pick three. We’re going shopping for you now.” He dragged me into HB.
“Hugo, I can’t afford any of this stuff. I’m trying to get back on my feet.” I tried to pull him out of the entrance.
“My treat. For putting up with me.” He picked up a large handbag, aqua with black and white stripes. “This is perfect.” He pulled a little clutch out of the interior of the handbag. “Look, it has its own handbag.” And he laughed like it was the funniest joke.
His humor and good mood made me laugh, too. It also warmed me inside.
He didn’t even consult me, taking the bag up to the counter and giving it to the saleswoman.
Gracious, she put it back on display and went to the back room to get a new bag, still in the HB handbag bag. Have you ever seen them? A huge bag of cotton fabric with brown and white stripes.
Hugo seemed fascinated by all of the uber expensive stores and dipped into each one to browse.
“This could be a lot of fun if someone was in the mood.” He took me by the hand again.
“Are you ever in the mood?” I asked glumly.
“Depends on what you’re talking about.” He winked at me.
A zing flooded my body. When Hugo held my hand, I didn’t know if he wanted me or just enjoyed my company. Either way, I held on for dear life.
I had no desire to try on clothes, and he seemed happy window shopping, until we came to a shoe store. More of an accessories and shoes type of store. He dragged me in.
“I’d love to try these in a nine,” he said to the very thin, very tastefully made up woman.
“Absolutely,” she cooed. “Anything for you, dear?” she asked me.
“No, thank you, I’m only looking, not buying.”
She brought out a pair of Oxford lace ups in brown, gray, and black, all in size nine.
“Please have a seat,” she said, setting the boxes down and opening them.
“No, I’m good,” Hugo said. He handed her his card. “I’ll take all three colors.”
The woman’s eyes widened, and I saw a heave of her red dress as she took in a breath. The price tag on the shoes: $3,000 each. Her commission would be nice. She rang us up and promised to have the shoes sent to the hotel.
I liked this being rich stuff Hugo had going on. Not having to haul around boxes and bags as we shopped. And I liked the way Hugo smiled warmly and treated everyone with respect. Well, almost everyone. As if he had a radar that sensed who deserved it and who didn’t.
Finally, I said, “I’m exhausted, Hugo. I don’t really feel like shopping anymore. Remember, I shopped for you while you slept? And besides, you must be exhausted from trying on all of those clothes earlier.”
I waited to see if he’d fess up. Nope. Nothing.
“How about some room service?” We headed to the exit of the Forums. “Besides, I have a surprise for you.”
I raised my brows. “Really? What is it?”
He shook his head. “No one ever accused me of being easy. You’ll have to wait.”
I refused to speak to him until we got back to the hotel.
“Room service? Or is there a restaurant you’ve always wanted to go to?”
“I’d love to go to Gordon Ramsey’s, but reservations are hard to get, and I really am exhausted.”
Hugo picked up the phone and said, “I’d like the menu from Gordon Ramsey’s brought up, please.”
When he hung up, I said, “Must be nice to be rich and be catered to.”
He sat on the couch with his feet on the coffee table. “I wouldn’t know. I don’t go out that much. But Stella could probably tell you. When I called the concierge, I fully expected him to say he couldn’t do it.”
He leaned his head back, and I couldn’t believe how incredibly sexy he looked in that moment.
I didn’t want to disturb him, so I slipped quietly over to the bar and opened it to see it fully stocked with top-shelf liquors. No wine, though. I’d been craving a glass of wine all day. I settled for a Bailey’s over ice. Sweet and cold.
“Your surprise is on the dining room table. I think it’ll fit perfectly in your new handbag.”
I looked over to the table to see a box from the Apple Store. “What?”
I looked back at him as he sat up. “It’s so you can be more portable. Not have to be in your office all the time to work.”
“I thought you hated Apple?” Remember the watch?
“I love all electronics. Heck, I just released the best electronic gaming watch to market.” He got up and walked to the table, opening the box. “It’s just the Air, and it’s so lightweight.”
I refrained from jumping up and down. “Just the Air?” I looked in the box. “For me? Really?”
“All for you.”
The knock came on the door before I could wrap my arms around him and kiss his stubble-free face.
We sat at the table and looked at the menu together, then Hugo called down to order the meals we’d chosen. “I’d like them here as soon as possible. And please tell Gordon’s manager, José, I think it is, that Stella Popovits said hello and thank you. And leave a $200 tip on my card.”
He hung up.
“Name dropper,” I said.
“If it gets us five-star service, I’ll drop whatever name I need.” Besides, Stella’s name is on the card, too. He’ll know when he runs it.”
We ordered dinner and wine, and Hugo asked the hotel to get us a copy of Pretty Woman.
The clothes arrived a few minutes later, and I called down to the concierge to have a new suitcase purchased. Turned out we needed two more. The bellman delivered all three, and we stood side by side packing the purchases into them.
“You promised me a fashion show,” I said as I helped pack the clothes.
“Maybe when we get home. The food will be here soon.”
And with that statement, we heard a knock at the door.
“Let’s eat in bed,” he said. He had the young man roll the cart into the bedroom.
“What’s with you and eating in bed?” I asked after the room service staff exited, a nice tip in hand.
“I feel like I’m being naughty. And Kelsey always insisted we eat at the dinner table.”
And there was that name. A fun day ruined in one word.
“Speaking of Kelsey, I heard you’re reconciling.” I lifted the covers off our food.
Hugo nearly choked on his laughter. “Where the hell did you hear that?”
I didn’t want to say Orlean told me. “Around. I run in better circles now, you know.”
“Fucking Stella. That’s how rumors get started.” He picked up a small piece of steak and chewed.
“Ha, ha,” I responded. “Great rumor.”
I chewed thoughtfully on a cooked carrot as I smiled to myself. Just a rumor.
Chapter Eight
I watched Hugo chew his steak, waiting.
“This is really good.” He raised his fork full of meat to me as if to toast.
My stomach had been in knots, after the Kelsey comment. I’d barely eaten a bite.
He looked at my plate. “What? I had them cut up the meat because I didn’t want to hassle with it while eating in bed. Did you want to cut the meat yourself?”
I shook my head. “That’s not it.”
He leaned in close, picked up my fork, and speared my salmon. Bringing the fork to my face, he said, “What? You want me to feed you?”
He was so close. All I had to do was push the fork out of the way and lean in and kiss him on the lips. So easy. Why couldn’t I move? I didn’t need him as a client anymore, so if I’d made a mistake, so be it. Send me home on a commercial flight. I tried to move, but all I managed was to open my mouth and let him push the salmon in.
“Mmmmmm, OMG,” I said around the food in my mouth. “Delicious.”
I covered my mouth with my hand and chewed.
“Right?” He took another bite of steak along with some specialty potato he’d ordered.
I swallowed. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have talked with my mouth full.”
I jumped up from the bed and put in the Pretty Woman DVD.
Hugo grinned and said, “Dinner and a movie. My dear, I do think this is officially our first date.”
My heart skipped a beat as we settled into the pillows on the bed, plates on our laps, and watched the movie.
Hugo didn’t say much until the “rescue” scene. By then, we’d both eaten our fill, and the dishes had been cleared off the bed.
He turned to me. “So, did I rescue you that day when your car broke down?”
I swallowed the lump in my throat. “I guess. I mean you were the only gentleman to offer any help.”
“You scared the crap out of me that day, you know.” He paused the movie.
I didn’t even care. I’d seen this scene a hundred or more times. I looked at him. “How? I wasn’t the one who looked like a homeless man.”
His brows raised and his eyes went wide. “What? A homeless man? Did you get a glimpse of yourself that day?”
I grimaced. “Not until it was too late.”
We both laughed.
“Making assessments about first impressions doesn’t always work, does it? Personally, I thought you were bat shit crazy.” Hugo reached across and put his hand on my thigh.
“That makes two of us,” I said. “We should be ashamed.”
Hugo jumped to his feet on the bed and said, “No way. Did we talk down to each other or treat each other with disdain? I think not.” He wiggled his finger.
Now standing over me, his legs straddling mine, he reached down for my hand. I reached up to grab his. He pulled me up, and I lost my balance on the bed, falling into him. He turned me around and held me by the shoulders. He held me so close, I could feel his breath on my neck.
“Thanks for taking my mind off work today,” his tone more somber.
“You’re a liar, Hugo. I didn’t take your mind off anything. Mario told me you didn’t try anything on. He said you were on your phone the whole time.” I shoved him away.
He nearly fell off the bed, then rebounded. “Fine, I had to check in. I needed to know the numbers.”
“I thought you already had pre-orders to justify your launch?” I thought I remembered him saying that.
“This is my life. My parents gave us the opportunity to make it on our own. I don’t just want to make it. I want them to be proud. I want to pay them back for giving Stella and me the best life ever. I’m a workaholic, Maisy. I don’t know any other way.”
He turned around and fell backward onto the bed. Now, I stood above him.
“I come from a family of addicts. My biological mom: a drug addict. My biological dad: died of a heroin overdose. My sister: she’s a partier, you’ve seen it. Me? I throw myself whole hog into whatever project I’m working on. I can’t not be this way.”
I sat back down on the bed, crossing my legs and facing him. “There has to be a happy medium.”
Again, he reached for my hand. This time I pulled away.
“So, whole hog with Kelsey, then? I mean, it’s been years. Was she the reason you left the fundraiser? You did say you saw her there. That has to mean you still have feelings for her. And now, apparently, she’s admitting hers for you.”
“She wasn’t supposed to be there. Stella assured me.”
“And yet she was, and you fled.”
He doubled the pillow under his head. “Come lay down with me, and let’s not talk about Kelsey. We’re having such a great time. I love being with you, and she’s a downer for us.”
Us. The word reverberated around in my head. Us. Was there really an us?
“Sorry.” I moved around and lay down beside him. “It’s not my business anyway. I barely know you, and I don’t know her at all. I’m only hoping she’s not the jealous type and makes you have a male stylist, or won’t want you to have female friends.” I rolled over onto my left side, so I could look at him.
He stared at the ceiling, not blinking for almost a minute. His profile caught me off guard. So masculine and rugged, where from the front he still had a boyish charm.
He rolled toward me. “Tell me about your dreams.”
The king of avoiding the subject.
“Like real dreams or fantasy?”
“Both.” His face dead serious.
“Short term or long term?”
“You’re thinking too much, just start talking. I want to know more about you.” He blinked, and I wanted to lick his long lashes.
“I want to build my business, helping people find their personal style. I want to be self-sufficient and never have to depend on anyone ever again.” I paused. “I mean not that I’ve ever depended on anyone.”
“Not even Miles?”
“Especially not him,” I snapped.
“But you lived with him. And when things went south, you moved, not him.”
Way to throw a hard ball.
“I don’t want to talk about Miles,” I said. “I’m really tired. And full.”
I sat up and got up from the bed.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you. I really do want to know more about you.”
“We talked all day, Hugo. I told you about my childhood, and college, and a bit about Marla. There’s not much else.”
He sat up. “Don’t go.”
I walked out of the room. “I’m taking the Mac with me. I might get some work done tonight.”
I rushed into the dining room, grabbed the laptop, and hurried out of his hotel room.
Once out in the hallway, I smacked myself in the head with the MacBook box. What the hell did I just do? I walked out on Hugo.
Marla had warned me early in my career with, “We aren’t like them. We work for them.” As I let myself into my room, I mumbled, “She’s right.” While I still hated Marla, she contributed to me becoming confident and fantastic at my job. I had to thank the bitch for that.
It’s like the sales guy at CD. I couldn’t afford the clothes either. I bought them for other people, not for myself. And Hugo didn’t purchase a $10,000 handbag for me, he purchased a $500 one. That said a lot, even though he probably didn’t mean for it to. Or I hoped he didn’t. I simply hoped he grabbed the first thing he saw and didn’t even look at the tag.
We didn’t run in the same circles, and even though his early childhood could be said to be worse than mine by far, it didn’t make us who we were now. He’d grown up with wealth and work ethic. I grew up middle class with work ethic. Two different circuses, three rings apart.
I understood Kelsey’s parents having doubts about Hugo’s history. Especially with addiction being hereditary. Maybe pursuing pipe dreams ran in my family.
My dad
thought he’d get ahead of the rat race by being self-employed. The government made sure he couldn’t get too rich doing that. My mom worked her job, assisted Dad with his, and ran her voodoo doll craze on the side. She’d thought quitting her job and building her doll business would help them get out of the rat race altogether, only she’d been wrong. I hoped I could help her change that.
I make fun of my mom’s dolls, but she’s innovative. She saw some guy at a trade show with the dolls, and he apparently did well. But he must have closed down his business, because she’d wanted to purchase one just two months later and couldn’t find any way to do it. She didn’t want to copy his, but she wanted a different version of that doll you smash against things when you’re mad, and her version of the voodoo doll became a hit. At least at first.
I worked hard for Marla, too, so I didn’t fall far from the tree. As I sat down at the bar in the hotel room kitchen and opened my gift from Hugo, I wondered, did I have what it took to run a business? Yes, I know, I keep fighting my head. But I’m still a kid in some ways. I think I know everything, then in the dark corners of my mind a voice says, Girl, you don’t know shit. This road is frickin’ hard! You gotta be ready to take your licks. Can you take a licking and keep on kicking?
I contemplated that question over and over. I’d had a pretty easy road until Miles T-boned me by boning my boss. I’d barely had a pothole, much less a speed bump. Did I have what it took to succeed on my own? Or had I had it so easy, I didn’t know how to stare hard work in the face and be the boss?
The other voice in my head sounded a lot like my dad. Oh, hell yeah, you got this, girl. You’re a Tucker.
I opened the MacBook and saw it wasn’t fully charged. For my own mind, I had to have it fully charged before using it. Damn. I’d been excited to work on a blog post. I pulled the cords from the plastic wrap and plugged the computer in. The connection wasn’t USB, but some metallic, little magnet doodad. Cool.
I went to my bedroom, disappointed that Hugo hadn’t chased after me. Then, I didn’t expect Hugo ever chased after a girl. I peeled out of my clothes and pulled on my sweats, then lay on top of the bed and checked Facebook, Snapchat, Twitter, and Instagram from my phone.
Style (Dressing a Billionaire Book 2): A Romantic Comedy Page 8
