The Unconventional Mistress - Page 6

I wanted out of this building in the worst way. Not only because I’d done what I came to do, but because I’d seen something in the crowd that I wanted and I know better than anyone that that shit right there spells trouble. I’d only just got rid of the last deadbeat to latch onto me.

And not that I expected that anyone here for this overpriced bullshit would be a leech, but I have a bad track record when it comes to choosing men. Besides, that bad boy was too pretty for the likes of me. I like my men a little gritty.

I couldn’t tell much about what was going on beneath his expensive suit jacket, but his face was too clean. I wouldn’t be able to sit on that without worrying about dirtying it up, and I gets dirty. Plus, I like a little hair on the face I sit on.

This nut was pulling on my arm hard enough to take it out of the socket. “Listen you can’t leave. Someone just bought you ahead of the auction.”

“Say what now? I’m not even part of the auction. How did that happen?” I was here to sell lingerie and get my foot in the door with the hoity-toity set, not sell my ass.

“Does it really matter? Obviously, he saw you and was interested. All it is, is dinner and drinks anything else is up to you.” This heifer.

She did that Groucho Marx thing with her eyebrows like she think she’s slick.

“Who is it?”

“It’s a private auction I have no idea.”

“So you could’ve sold me to some Ted Bundy wannabe?”

“I don’t think the Ted Bundies of the world are into shelling out five million dollars for a dinner date.”

I almost choked on the damn almond chocolate truffle I was trying not to chew in front of her. “Did you say…?” I started laughing because I couldn’t help myself. Something about the whole absurd situation touched my funny bone.

“Five million? You sure you heard right?” Okay, now I’ll go just to see who this jackass could be. He better not be some one-eyed troll who thinks I’m a big girl so I must be desperate. I hate those types as much as I hate that preconceived notion.

I have no problems catching the eyes of a man thank you very much and yes, I have standards. But every once in a while some blowhard gets it into his head that us plus size beauties need a handout. If this turns out to be one of those, he can just blow it out his pie-hole.

“Where and when is this supposed to happen?” I went back to the box of chocolate. I eat sweets when I’m nervous, or when I’m happy, or sad, or hell, whenever I can get my hands on some.

“According to the text I just received, his driver will be waiting for you in the lobby.”

“I’m not dressed for dinner though.” I looked down at my silk wrap dress that though nice, was not suitable for a dinner date with a man who could afford to shell out five million dollars for dinner with a stranger.

“Don’t worry about it, just get out there. I can’t believe we raised the most money so far for this event.” She walked away, already forgetting that she’d just sold my ass to some guy she didn’t even know. Skinny bitches got issues; seriously.

I walked out to the lobby not too sure what to expect. I knew it wasn’t a prank or a joke of some sort because Charlie is just not the type to play around when it comes to money.

I wasn’t hesitant in the least because I knew the money was for a good cause and I can handle myself pretty much in any situation. So whoever this yahoo was didn’t scare me.

I just hope he wasn’t some recluse with cat hair all over his tweed jacket. I’m allergic to cats. I need to work on my thinking skills I’ll admit.

After years of being the brunt of other people’s shortsightedness, I’d turned the tables. I don’t go around making fun of myself, I’m nobody’s punch line.

But I do play along with some of what society thinks of me. I don’t go out of my way to prove them wrong, that’s way too much time wasted and their near-sighted asses aren’t worth the effort.

But I understand everyone has a type. If I’m not yours keep your small dick ass moving and don’t block my view of the next best thing in line. And if you’re not mine, don’t expect me to settle because my clothes tag has a bigger number than is ideal in your fucked up society.

My inner thoughts gave me that extra confidence boost I needed to face whatever the evening ahead may hold. Nothing like a good friend to put your ass in a sling and then walk away whistling.

Tags: Jordan Silver Billionaire Romance
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