Style (Dressing a Billionaire Book 2): A Romantic Comedy

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Style (Dressing a Billionaire Book 2): A Romantic Comedy Page 10

by Jamie Lee Scott


  Ugh! I slammed the MacBook shut and closed my eyes.

  Chapter Ten

  Hugo decided he wasn’t ready to face the real world so soon, and he wanted to make love to me several more times, so we spent another day in Vegas. No more shopping for Hugo, but he’d spent a load of money on me. No matter how much I protested, he said he felt he had to make up for firing me.

  After a full day of shopping and seeing the sights, and a night of hitting the clubs, Hugo and I had learned a lot more about each other. He learned I’d been a virgin until I turned twenty. By choice. And I learned he’d lost his at fifteen.

  He told me about the time he saw his biological mom having sex, when he was only four, and how she’d screamed and howled, and he’d been terrified to hurt a woman like that. We laughed, and laughed all afternoon, and night.

  At the Mobster Museum, we got our mug shots taken and listened to the interesting history of Vegas and the mob. At the gift shop, he said, “My parents have mob ties.”

  I smirked. “Sure they do.”

  He browsed and said, “I’m not joking. The Hungarian Mob. Not that they are a part of it, but my dad’s family is mobbed up big time.”

  I looked him in the eyes, to see if he’d been pulling my leg. “Whatever.”

  “When I bring you to meet them, you can ask him.” He picked up a pair of glasses with a plastic mustache and put them on.

  I couldn’t respond. He’d planned for me to meet his parents. Whoa, I didn’t know if I could handle that. I’d bet his parents were wonderful people, I mean, look at the kids they raised. But I’d also bet they held others to high standards. I’d be afraid I wouldn’t meet their expectations.

  He didn’t mention it again, and I didn’t bring it up. We’d been having so much fun, I didn’t want to think about what would happen when we got back home.

  He’d gotten backstage entrance to the Elton John concert, and we had drinks with Elton and David. Then he insisted we needed to stay a few more days, because he wanted to meet Celine Dion.

  As we lay in bed the next morning, now sharing one hotel room, I said, “Last night was incredible.”

  He squeezed my hand and said, “You don’t have to keep telling me that.”

  “I meant the Elton John concert. And having drinks afterward.” I shoved him away, even though my leg had been wrapped around his.

  “Oh, that. And Celine is next.” I felt his body quiver with anticipation.

  “You’ll have to do Celine by yourself. I have to get back to the real world. I have appointments for early next week. And I want to get my own studio.”

  He sat up like he’d been jolted. “I have a space in my building.”

  I rolled over, away from him. “I need to find my own place, Hugo. I’m not going to mooch off you.”

  “What do you mean, mooch? The rent would be $600 a month.” He leaned in behind me to spoon against my naked body. “First, last and deposit due at signing.”

  I looked back over my shoulder. “Really, that’s all? And how many other renters do you have in that high-security building of yours?”

  He wrapped his arms around me and said, “Not that building. No way in hell could I have renters there.”

  Intrigued, I rolled over to look at him. “Then where?”

  “I own the entire block, silly. I have a space available in the building three doors down.”

  “Dude, how do you even know these piddley details? I mean you’re a multi-millionaire. Don’t you have people who do this stuff for you?” I thought it weird, he’d know about such small stuff.

  “Billionaire, after Wednesday,” he corrected. “And I get a rundown of my financial situation every week. I’m not stupid enough to blindly let my businesses run themselves. That’s how idiots get robbed blind and end up living in the streets.”

  I kissed him on the lips. “I’ll stop by and take a look when we get back to Dallas.”

  I shivered with excitement.

  “Does that mean what I think it means?” He pulled me closer.

  “That I’m excited about my business and can’t wait to meet with my potential clients?”

  He bit my lip. “Not exactly what I’d been thinking.”

  I pulled off the covers and sat up. “It’s time to get back to the real world.”

  I got out of bed and walked to the bathroom.

  “I don’t want to go back yet,” he said, not whining, but a statement. “And there’s no reason to. I’ll just rehire you and pay you to stay here.”

  I held the side of the doorway and looked back into the bedroom. “That makes me feel like a hooker.”

  He wiggled his brows. “Even better.”

  We laughed, then he joined me in the shower. We washed each other down with soap and I learned just how good shower sex could be. Then we took it back to the bedroom for one last roll before heading back to Texas. Back to living in different worlds, only now we both had great new wardrobes.

  The flight home reeked of tension. The look on Timmy’s face when Hugo and I arrived at the helipad holding hands could have stopped a train. His glare shot 9mm bullets at me when Hugo turned away. He didn’t look at me or acknowledge me.

  “Good afternoon, Timmy,” I beamed. “Such a lovely day. A lovely day to be back in Dallas.”

  Yes, I said Timmy, because Hugo had asked me to, but mostly because he’d asked me not to. I could afford him the same respect he afforded me, because I had nothing to lose.

  Sure, I’d had a lovely few days in Vegas with one of the world’s richest and nicest men, but my life didn’t depend on Hugo. Timmy’s did. Or maybe it didn’t, but I liked to think he’d be fucked if Hugo fired him.

  Speaking of fired, had Hugo told Timmy he’d fired me, and that we’d fucked like rabbits for the last few days? God, I hoped so. Other than the firing part. That still smarted.

  Monotone, he said, “Yes, it’s a hundred and eleven here, and only a hundred and two there.”

  I raised my brows and smiled cheekily as I walked by him and up into the Eurocopter. “I love it hot.”

  I saw Hugo shrug at Timmy as he climbed up into the chopper with me.

  “Once we arrive home, Maisy will need transportation downtown,” Hugo informed Timmy.

  “Doesn’t she still have your car?” he asked.

  “Like I said, Timmy, she’ll need a ride downtown. To Tower Three.”

  Now Timmy raised his brows, but didn’t respond. Hugo said nothing more as he fastened his seatbelt and put on a set of headphones.

  I looked at him, but Hugo avoided eye contact.

  My stomach flopped. Maybe back to reality wouldn’t be so fun after all.

  Oh, who was I kidding? Even Stella had been on board. I heard Hugo talking to her earlier in the day. She’d volunteered to meet me at Tower Three so we could decide if the vacant office space would work for my needs. She figured as a client, she could help me find the right space to work with other clients. Of course, I got all of this second hand from Hugo. I hadn’t spoken with her. Though I did get a short text.

  Hugo loves your sense of style, and I can’t wait to get you settled in. XOXO

  I wondered if she’d still feel the same and add the XOXO if she knew I’d fucked her brother’s brains out. Oh, I mean made love to her brother like the world might end.

  The Eurocopter landed smoothly at Hugo’s compound just as the sun tried to hide behind the horizon. Bobby helped me with my bags. I definitely had more bags than when we’d left Dallas in the first place.

  “Stella is meeting you to take you to Tower Three,” Bobby said. “She said she’d pick you up here or at your house.”

  I looked over to Hugo. “I thought I was meeting her there, in the city?”

  “We’re headed home, so tell Stella to pick Maisy up there.” He walked to the driver’s side of his SUV and paused. “You know what? Make it tomorrow morning. It’s kind of late.”

  “You’re taking me home?” I asked. Wondering what had happened in
the last few hours.

  “Let’s go,” he didn’t exactly answer.

  So this was my new reality. Hugo acting like we barely knew each other and me getting a ride home from him in his own car. I’d be back to driving my junky Jetta again. Maybe I’d save the rent money I’d be spending on a studio, and instead put a down payment on a decent car. I knew I wouldn’t have Hugo’s car much longer, and in my dream state in Vegas, I’d forgotten. I had such high hopes, and a studio of my own would give me clout.

  Hell, I’d forego the car and get the studio. No one needed to know I took public transportation. It’s not like we’d run into each other on the bus.

  I fought my head about what to do as Hugo drove. I barely looked out the window, and he didn’t speak, so I didn’t initiate any conversation, terrified he’d tell me it was all a farce. A ridiculous dream. He’d wanted to get laid, and I was there, and had gotten paid for it. I’d been the perfect patsy, and now we could be just friends. We lived so far apart on the spectrum that never the two shall merge.

  I knew this getting into bed with him, and I kicked myself for letting my heart think it could be more. Then I looked out the window.

  “Uh, this is the cottage.” He turned into the long driveway.

  “I said we were going home.” He looked at me and smiled.

  “Yeah, I thought my home, by the way you responded.”

  Suddenly, all of my doubts and fears about this being real faded. He’d probably had things on his mind, which accounted for his distant behavior on the helicopter. He’d never be the person to love them and leave them. Okay, fine, he’d admitted to doing just that, but with strangers, so there wasn’t the love part. And he hadn’t promised them a tomorrow. In fact, he hadn’t promised me a tomorrow either. But bringing me to the cottage gave me hope. Hope I didn’t have the right to want, but I still hung onto.

  “Well, here we…” And then he stopped talking.

  He stared straight ahead, the color drained from his face.

  I looked ahead, too. In the beam of the headlights, a tall, thin woman stood from her seat on the porch. I’d never seen her in person, but I knew instantly. The way she sat up straight, the clothing, the air of confidence, and the smile as we drove up.

  It was Kelsey.

  To be continued…

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  Other Books By Jamie Lee Scott

  Gotcha Detective Agency Series

  Let Us Prey

  Textual Relations

  Death of a Sales Rep

  What a Meth

  Bad Vice

  Electile Dysfunction

  Who Gives a Split

  Dressing a Billionaire Series

  Dressing a Billionaire – Hello

  Dressing a Billionaire – Style

  Dressing a Billionaire – Mine

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