So I go with vague. Vague seems just as good of an idea as any, right? Right.
“Found a guy,” I say with a shit-eating grin. “And we’ve been fucking every night for a week. We ran into each other after I left Roger and his buddy to play grab-ass in the hotel room, and we ended up spending the night together. We’ve been together ever since.” I give an innocent shrug, as if it’s no big deal, but I’m pretty sure my shit-eating grin belies that.
“Ohhhhh! Daphne, that’s awesome!” Carla squeals. She leans across the table and squeezes my hand. “So, tell us all about him. What’s his name? Where does he work?”
I deliberately ignore her first question and go straight for the second one. “He’s a currency trader. Owns his own firm. He has like seven people on staff, so not a lot. Incredibly smart.”
He’s actually a billionaire, or he was when Mom and him were together. I haven’t exactly asked him for a net worth estimate since we’ve started fucking, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s just grown even more rich since then. He isn’t someone to let anything get in his way.
“Wow, he sounds amazing,” Lisa says. “What did you say his name was?”
I shrug and take a sip of my cosmo, wanting to buy myself some time before answering. “It’s … well, I’ll tell you guys later. We’re not to that stage yet.”
“Not to the stage of telling your best friends what his name is?” Carla asks, confused.
“Yeah. We’re still getting to know each other.” Which is total bullshit; I know him better at this point than I had know Roger after dating him for five years, but I just didn’t want to see the look on their faces when I told them I was fucking my stepdad.
Awkward.
“Is there something wrong with him?” Carla’s just not giving up on this question. I narrow my eyes at her. Just drop it, I try to tell her telepathically, but she’s apparently not speaking Daphne Brain Waves today.
“Maybe, he’s some celebrity! Oh my God, Daphne has finally hooked up with Justin Timberlake!” Gisele crows.
Okay, so maybe I’ve always said that if I could fuck any music god on the face of the planet, it would be Justin Timberlake, and since Gisele is dating a rock star of her own, she probably thinks that it’s perfectly normal to go around fucking super stars.
But can I just say—I think Dominic is even better than a super star. He has the added benefit of being real, and here, and desiring me.
Which makes him sexier than even Justin, as hard as that is to believe.
“Listen, I have to go. I’ll catch up with you guys later, okay?” I give everyone a hug and an air kiss and then head out the door to my apartment, on the corner of 52nd and 1st. The long walk helps me burn off some of the alcohol I’ve just consumed, but nothing will diminish the grin on my face. I may not have been able to share who Dominic is with my best friends, but that doesn’t stop me from smiling dreamily about him.
I round the corner and like I’d summoned him to me, there Dominic is standing, right next to a … limousine?
“Dominic!” I squeal, running toward him. He grabs me and pulls me up into his arms and grins down at me.
“I wanted to surprise you. What do you think about a dinner out at MASA?”
“MASA and a limousine?” I’m squealing again, but damn, being around Dominic really is a thousand times better than Justin Timberlake.
We get into some pretty heavy PDA, I won’t lie, but finally, he pulls away and says, “C’mon, let’s go. I can’t wait to feed you oysters by hand.”
I swear to god, I might just orgasm right here on the street, just listening to him say that. “Let’s,” I breathe, and crawl into the spacious limo.
Oh.
Wow.
I’ve never actually been in a limo before; my prom date my senior year had told me he was going to rent one and then that night, he showed up in his dad’s old beater, telling me the limos were all rented out. I’d been crushed, truth be told, I’d wanted to ride in a limo a lot more than I’d wanted to go to prom with the guy. That night was awful; I should’ve known when he hadn’t shown up with the limo that going out with him was a fuck-awful idea. Nothing like being drunkenly pawed at by your prom date who can’t even keep your name straight.
My name is not Diana, it’s Daphne, thankyouverymuch.
I shake the bad memories off.
“Wow, I love it,” I breathe. “And the silver is sexy.” I’m running my hand along the door panel gently. I’m not sure how much I should be touching everything.
“Pretty standard color scheme,” Dominic says with a laugh. “What did you expect, burnt orange?”
“Ewww…no. I hate orange. Ugliest color on the face of the planet. But I don’t know, I guess I just expected it to be black on the inside too, to match the paint job on the outside. Or maybe red ...? I guess I never thought about what a limo would look like on the inside.” I shrug. They didn’t exactly have a shit ton of limos on campus at med school.