The Billionaire's Assistant
“And if you’re stuck on this whole ‘that’s not the relationship we have’ bullshit, then I can play along. The relationship we have is professional. You are therefore being professionally recompensed for damages accrued in a professional capacity. Hazards of the job.”
My lips twitched up, and I tried not to smile. He saw through it at once.
“Or, I could just tell the truth. Say that you’re one of my best friends, and I’m truly sorry for ruining your big night out, and I’m sorry for ruining your dress.” His head tilted down with a coaxing grin. “Since I have more money than Donald Trump, will you please let me pay for it?”
Nick was used to getting what he wanted. And I was used to eventually caving in.
But this time—I had to say that I was sincerely touched.
One of my best friends.
I never knew he felt that way.
“Alright,” I agreed quietly, collecting my thoughts. The champagne wasn’t making it very easy. “But something the same price—not a penny more, okay?”
He rolled his eyes, but agreed—steering me through the winding aisles like a train conductor who had been there many, many times before.
Predictably, he went straight for the lingerie section, but I shook my head and tugged him over to the purses. The last thing I wanted Mitchell Hunter to see was a picture of his son buying me some lacy garter. Besides, as expensive as they were, the purses were probably some of the cheapest things in this store.
“Really?” He slumped against the counter with obvious disappointment. “Bags?”
“Not bags,” I corrected, “purses.”
“What’s the difference?”
“A bag is something you use to haul around make-up and phones.”
“...and a purse?”
“A purse is something you use to carry make-up and phones. There’s refinement.” He chuckled softly as I picked one up to examine it, looking it over with a practiced eye. “This one might actually be big enough for my entire laptop...”
“No—come on!” He stood up suddenly. “A work purse? That’s what you’re choosing?”
I glanced up in surprise.
“...yes? Why does that matter?”
“Because it’s boring!”
“It’s useful!” I shot back. “I’ll use it every day!”
A timid-looking Ruby appeared from nowhere and ventured in between us.
“More champagne?” she offered.
We downed another two flutes and sent her on her way.
“Fine,” Nick glared, “I’ll get the damn purse.”
He snatched it out of my hands and stormed away. But he didn’t head back towards the front counter to pay. Instead, he started winding in a circuitous path around the entire store.
“Damn it to hell—Nick!”
I hurried after him, as fast as my borrowed heels could take me.
He was in the shoe section now, looking over the rows of heels with the bored, yet practiced eye of a man who had grown up in high society.
The second I rushed around the corner, he seized me up and down with the suddenly-not-bored, and practiced eye of a man who had slept with a great many women.