But let him wonder. It will give me great pleasure if he burns every single pair of jeans he owns. Or spends an hour or two in front of a mirror, twisting around to see how his ass really looks.
I go to the kitchen and grab myself some ice-cold water. As I chug it down, it hits me that I’ve been so focused on blitzing him with all those women that I forgot about the most important thing—him being my next-door neighbor. I thought he’d move out soon. After all, billionaires buy mansions and penthouses and beach homes. But who’s been helping him find a suitable property? Certainly not that terrible assistant who can’t even guard his office competently.
And he’s too busy with Vi to buy a bunch of dumb stuff, like most normal guys who suddenly came into a billion dollars would.
Salazar said the main thing I need to do for Wyatt is finding him a date to Geneva’s wedding. But he never said I couldn’t do more with all the free time I have on my hands. So I’ll take on a special project.
Find Wyatt A Home.
Or FWAH. It’s like a sound a baby might make when it’s happy. Fitting, since I’ll definitely be happy when he’s out of my hair.
Besides, Vi deserves a better home. Something with a pool and a butler. If Wyatt moves out in the next two weeks, I might even consider getting him the butler as well.
My mind made up, I call Rick the Realtor. He’s sold a few properties to Salazar and his son Iain. Rick knows all about billionaire-appropriate homes.
“Hello, Kim. A pleasure to hear from you.” He’s mellow and cordial, as always. I wonder if it’s how he always sounds, or if it’s part of his professional persona.
“Hi, Rick. I’m looking for a property. For a single father and his daughter. The man’s worth over a billion, so something fitting.”
“Does he have any particular preferences? I have some properties with amazing gardens and pools. One has a water garden.”
“Mmm, not a water garden.” That’s wasteful and silly in SoCal, what with all the droughts and water shortages. But what about the other places? I remember Wyatt’s mom having a green thumb, but I doubt Wyatt’s into pulling weeds or shoveling fertilizer. There’s a reason he chose an apartment. He probably likes the convenience of somebody taking care of everything, and he likes the height. “Do you have a penthouse or something like that?”
“I have three. One of them is extremely new. The builder just got finished last month.”
“That sounds perfect. If you’re not too busy, I’d love to see them this morning, before lunch.” Evie texted and said she could meet for lunch.
“Sure. Should I pick you up at your boss’s office in, say…one hour?”
“Actually, pick me up at my place. I’m off today.” I give him my address. “See you.”
I hang up and change into a form-fitting magenta dress and heels. Then I put on makeup. Although I’m not working for Salazar this month, I still need to look perfect, especially around people who associate with him and his family. It’s part of being somebody like Salazar’s assistant.
Three penthouses. That’s not bad. Hopefully one of them will work.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Wyatt
Blue jeans make your ass look flat.
Do they? I’m twisted around, staring at my butt in the mirror. It doesn’t look flat. I change into dress slacks and check again.
Nope. About the same.
Was she just saying that to mess with me?
My ass is one of my best features. I work it off in the gym, even though recently I’ve been too busy to go.
Dammit. I need to stop worrying about what Kim thinks. Working from home doesn’t mean screwing around. I actually have things to do, and I need to focus.
Even if Kim’s comment does keep popping into my head.
My phone rings, and as soon as I see the name, my mood plunges. Geneva never calls unless she wants something. I’m really tempted to drag my finger to the left, but then, what if this is the one-in-a-million occasion where she might actually need to discuss something concerning Vi?
“Hello, Geneva. What can I do for you?”
“I decided Vi can be here, if she’ll be part of the ceremony and throw flower petals,” Geneva says.