Break Up with Him, for Me (You Belong With Me 1)

Let me know what you pick for the party.

* * *

You’re welcome.

Hayden

* * *

P.S.—Wear your hair down.

P.S.S.—Don’t wear panties. Trust me.

Seven

Present Day

Penelope

Saturday

The second I stepped aboard the pristine white yacht, I felt out of place. My red dress—with its deep cut that revealed my cleavage and high thigh slit, stood out against everyone else’s toned down black and blue formal wear.

Shit.

I debated running back to the town car and begging the driver to take me home to change into something else.

Before I could think that through, the security guard motioned for me to step forward.

“Next in line, please,” he said, his eyes glued to a tablet. “Name and affiliation to Mr. Gaines?”

“Um…” I forced a smile as I moved closer. “Is there a coat check in there? You think I can borrow someone’s jacket?”

“Your name and—” He looked up from his pad, his gaze traveling up and down my dress. “I think you’re at the wrong party, Miss. This ain’t a Hollywood premiere.”

“Thank you.” I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. “Penelope Carter.”

He crossed his arms, still staring at me. “The private party for the Hollywood models is on Pier fifty-seven. Would you like me to have someone escort you there?”

“I’m not a guest at the celebrity party. I’m here to see Simon Gaines.” I folded my arms. “We went to college together.”

He took another look at me before returning his attention to his tablet. He tapped the screen a few times and his eyes widened.

“Forgive me for not realizing that you were Mr. Gaines’ date. Please follow me.” He ushered me onto a small elevator and hit the “S” button. “Mr. Gaines is in the gallery room. I’m sure he’ll be thrilled to see you.”

The doors glided shut and I took several deep breaths as the car rose to the third floor. When I stepped out, I found myself in a sea of more drab-blue and black suits, but there were pops of color with other dresses here or there.

Still, none of them were as revealing as mine.

Weaving through the crowd, I followed the signs for ‘Gallery’ and stopped once I saw Simon surrounded by a small crowd.

Looking sexy in an all-black tuxedo, he smiled and pointed to a vase.

“I have no idea why I let my advisor talk me into buying this thing,” he said. “It’s supposedly an Egyptian artifact, but I will happily sell it at no profit, if any of you are interested.”

“How much?” Someone asked.

“Four million.” He picked it up. “Any takers?”

Everyone laughed, shaking their heads.

“What about taking my advisor as part of the deal, then?” He joked. “His stock market advice is way better, I promise.”

Laughter filled the room again.

“Excuse me.” A brunette brushed against me. Hard. “I hope you’re not looking to land anyone here while wearing that.” She sucked her teeth and walked past me.

As Simon picked up a different vase, I took several steps backward. I bumped into a few other people on my way to the bathroom, and then I locked myself inside.

I stared at my reflection, swallowing. I wondered if I could have Tatiana bring me a more suitable and boring dress within the hour.

A knock sounded at the door as I pulled out my phone.

“Someone’s in here!” I called out. “Give me a minute.”

The door opened anyway.

“I just said that someone is in here.”

“I heard you loud and clear.” Hayden stepped inside, glass of wine in hand. “I decided to stop by to see if you were taking my advice.”

“I have a cell phone.”

“You didn’t answer any of my texts,” he said. “You also didn’t call me last night.”

“I did. It went to voicemail.”

“I was genuinely worried that you’d pick the wrong dress.”

“Did I?”

“Not at all.” He looked me up and down. “You did confirm that you still have no idea how to say, thank you, though.”

“You’re welcome.”

He laughed. “Why did I know that you’d be in here, far away from the party?”

“Because you’re a stalker who somehow snuck onto the guest list.”

“I own the pier.” He sipped the last of his drink and set it down. “I’m on every guest list.”

“Of course.” I let out a sigh. “People keep staring at me.”

“Because you look sexy as hell,” he said. “Despite the fact that you’re not taking my advice like you promised.”

“How? I did every single thing you said.”

“Almost everything.” He placed his hands on my shoulders and spun me around to face the mirror.

In the reflection, his eyes met mine and I couldn’t help but inhale the sexy scent of his cologne.

He traced his finger against the back of my neck, running his fingers against the pair of black and white swans that were tattooed on my skin. Then he stopped at the line of cursive Latin underneath.

“I’ve never noticed this quote part of your tattoo before,” he said, his voice low. “I thought it was just a straight line.”