Faking It with the Frenemy

He nods, then offers me one of his fries, which I accept, since it’s an act of great caring for a guy to offer a fry.

“She married for money each time, all of them millionaires. Her greatest regret in life is that she never got to marry a billionaire.” I bite into my burger to give myself some time to think. “I think she would’ve had me marry my boss if he were single.”

Wyatt’s jaw drops. “Your boss…as in Salazar?”

“Yup.”

“Isn’t he old enough to be your dad?”

Tension creeps into my shoulders, making them rise. “He might almost be old enough to be my mother’s dad. But that’s not even an issue, as far as she’s concerned. The only thing that matters is that he’s worth billions.”

Wyatt stares, his mouth opening and closing a few times like he feels like he ought to say something but can’t think of anything suitable.

I shrug, trying to hide the humiliation churning inside me. Talking with my girlfriends about my mom’s endless need to get me to marry the way she wants didn’t make me feel bad. But with him, it’s different. I wasn’t risking the end of a friendship by letting a girlfriend know. Him? Hell, any sane man would run the other way. I would if I were him.

You like him.

That. And I don’t want him to think I care about his money because I don’t. Except I don’t know how to prove that to him. It isn’t like you can X-ray the truth in your heart and show it to someone.

Finally, he reaches out and takes my hand in his, gently squeezing. “I’m sorry.”

The cold and ugly knot of shame in my belly thaws and lo

osens at this simple understanding. Suddenly, I’m feeling calmer, more centered and anchored. “Thank you,” I say. Sometimes a little sympathy is all I need.

Chapter Forty

Kim

After wishing Wyatt luck with his new assistant candidate, I hurry back to the office. Salazar’s coming back from his trip, and I want to be in before he arrives in case he needs something. He always needs something after his vacations.

Since I’m a few minutes late, I’m spared the worst of the interrogation from others in the building, even though I have a few messages from my coworkers asking me about “that hottie.”

I ignore them for the time being, because Salazar’s going to come walking in at any minute. I go over his schedule for the rest of the week one more time so I can be on top of everything when he asks to review his agenda. No stumbling or stuttering allowed in the world of Salazar Pryce.

Ready, I wait. However, Salazar doesn’t arrive until almost two.

“The traffic!” he says as he walks in, dashing as ever in a dress shirt with the collar undone and dark slacks. They’re new—probably hand-stitched in Paris. “I honestly didn’t miss it.”

I smile with sympathy. Since I don’t want him to dwell on anything annoying, I pick a tack that never fails to make him happy—flattery. “You’ve got a pretty good tan, there.”

As usual, it works like charm. He grins and preens a bit. “I know. Brings out my eyes, doesn’t it?”

It actually does. “You look rested and healthy.”

He gives a contented sigh. “It’s the travel. Nothing like seeing the world with the woman you love.”

I refrain from asking why he divorced Ceinlys if he loves her so much. Then I wonder if he’s going to propose to her again—and if so, what kind of ring I’ll need to buy for the occasion.

“Would you like some coffee?” I ask.

“No, thanks. But here you go.” He places a large, glossy shopping bag from Dior on my desk. “A gift from both of us. You outdid yourself for the trip.”

Pride over a job well done flows through me. “Thank you.” I push the rustling tissue paper aside and see two gorgeous lambskin purses—one in pink and the other in black. Underneath the bags are two large boxes of Swiss chocolates. I pick up the pink bag. Its softness is like some alien technology. “These are…exquisite.”

“Glad you like ’em.” He starts toward his office. “Ceinlys picked them out.”

Making a mental note to send her a thank-you card, I put the presents in my chair and follow him.