ELLA
Kelly’s thin, arched brow hasn’t budged an inch and it doesn’t escape me that her gaze is firmly fixed on Zander’s ass.
I scold, comically, “You’re shameless.”
Her murmur is just as humorous. “And you’re fucking that hottie?”
My lips pull up as Trish laughs into her glass and the waiter comes by to drop off our appetizers. Ruze has an impeccable variety, from spring rolls and buffalo cauliflower, to steak tartare and caviar.
I’ve always loved this place. It’s laid back, with garage doors that stay open and let the breeze in. If I had to describe the style I’d say it’s botanical boho somehow mixed with a brewery. It’s high end and expensive as fuck to attract and keep the clientele … well, the rich and famous.
“The rumor mills were true then?”
“Kind of sort of, maybe.” I shrug andpop a bite-size crostini with crab into my mouth so I can’t say any more. We talked about heading to his place later this week. It’ll be the first time I’ll see it. He’s unpacked and settled in now and if I’m honest, that makes me nervous.
I’m not sure I want to leave. I’m not sure I want to give up my lifestyle because it’s something he isn’t sure he wants.
“So … what’s the deal for real? We know he was fired.”
“How the hell do you know that?” I question and my tone is harsher than I anticipated. Trish’s widened eyes are evidence that she’s taken aback. “Sorry,” I whisper and lean forward, snatching another bite from the plates.
“Is it serious?” Kelly asks, choosing a few pieces of deliciousness and sorting them on her small plate.
“How can it be if he doesn’t even have a job?”Trish says, piling on.
I don’t consider Trish’s sentiment emotionally, only logically when I answer, “He has income and it’s not like I’m after anyone for their money.”
Trish doesn’t bother hiding that she’s staring, lifting the martini glass to her lips.
“Well, honey,” Kelly says and tilts her head, reaching for a spring roll, taking her time to dip it in the accompanying sauce, not looking me in the eye, “it’s not his money that we’d be worried about.”
There’s a bit of a chill in the air all of a sudden. “How did you know he was fired?”
“You know how people talk.”
“Well, what else are people saying?”
Trish answers first. “That he’s broke but into you.”
Broke. In social circles, the word broke is blood in the water. “How broke?”
“Just not … not someone who could afford your lifestyle.” Chewing the inside of my cheek, I let her comment sink in. I’ve never really cared to talk about money. There’s a knot of guilt that twists in my stomach when I consider the hand I was dealt. I was born into wealth and then everything was left to me when my father was buried and I was only sixteen years old. The cherry on top is that Kam took over everything, keeping me safe, wealthy, and guiding me through a chaotic world of parasites who were after any cent they could suck from me.
I settle on a simple truth. “I hadn’t thought much of it.”
“I mean it’s not like you need Mr. Moneybags, but it’s just something to consider.” Her tone reflects the high society’s guide to staying elite. In other words, don’t marry someone who could be after your money.
“I don’t plan on ever getting married again.” I decide on another comment to keep my friends, as well as the rumor mills, away from the subject of Zander’s bank account. “We’re fucking and enjoying each other’s company. But this bill,” I say and gesture to the meal. “He’s paying for it and for all the nights we’ve been out.”
As Trish’s expression turns concerned, Kelly states she’s getting this tab since Trish got the last.
“How?” she asks bluntly and is rewarded with a jab in her ribs from Kelly’s elbow.
“Ouch!”
“The fuck is wrong with you,” Kelly hisses in a murmur.
I can only laugh, although that sick feeling remains. Before I can answer Trish, she changes the subject.