The Billionaire's Assistant
A hulking colossus beside him nodded obediently in my direction, his one contribution and a solemn one at that. Yeah...I could imagine Harold not taking that very well.
The manager’s voice lowered a fraction of an inch, straining the limits of professional decorum as the tale progressed into an aquatic chase.
“Normally we offer a degree of leniency to guests such as this, however...unconventional their antics might be. If it were not for the fact that we had planned on serving—”
“—planned on murdering,” Nick interrupted.
The manager’s nostrils flared like a bull. “The lobster cost five hundred a piece. Even though Monsieur Hunter offered to pay—they were already promised. When we refused to comply, he proceeded to enact what he loudly proclaimed as vigilante justice—”
My eyes snapped shut and I held up a hand for silence. I had a pretty good idea of where the story went from there. I was well familiar with Nick’s vigilante justice myself.
Five seconds...
“I’ll handle this,” I said sweetly, before turning back to the fountain.
Nick was still clinging to the center statue for support, a ten thousand dollar Armani suit dripping down his tall frame. His golden-brown hair was soaked and curling, and what looked like several claw-sized abrasions were crisscrossing his hands.
“Abby, don’t let him come in here,” he whispered loudly, streams of water dripping down his perfect, chiseled face. “You know how fascists frighten me.”
I rolled my eyes and took a step closer, hyper aware of the outrageously over-priced gown that I was still planning on returning the next day as I stepped forward on the wet tile.
“What are you doing, Nick?” I asked softly, looking him up and down in a practiced sort of way. There was a chance we were going to have to make a run for it—I needed to know how capable he was of doing something like that, and how much had been lost to the alcohol.
“I’m doing exactly what you told me to,” he said with a note of loyalty.
I blinked, trying very hard to maintain my composure.
“I told you to stage a crustacean rebellion?”
“No—you told me not to get arrested on your one night off.”
It took me a second to understand the unfathomable thought processes of his mind. Then, piece by piece, I started to string it together.
“Which is why you got into the fountain...a place where the cops wouldn’t follow.”
He winked. “Genius, right?” Sure enough, a trio of baffled-looking police were hovering just outside the splash zone. This did nothing to dissuade Nick, of course, who was looking rather proud of himself. “See Abby, I do listen when you tell me to stay out of trouble.”
I shook my head, eyes darting around as I tried to come up with a plan. “Seventeen nannies, you had. How is it that not one of them took the time to strangle you as a child?”
He shrugged carelessly, noticing the breast on the angel for the first time.
“I tend to live...”
The title of his future memoir.
Alright—time’s up, Wilder. What’cha got?
“What’s that?” I leaned back with a look of theatric surprise and raised my voice to be heard by the crowd. “You were raising awareness for environmental groups protesting inhumane practices inherent in the commercialization of shellfish?”
Not my greatest story, but he hadn’t left me many options.
The manager shook a fist towards the heavens, but Nick flashed me a secret grin and nodded sagely—discreetly angling his ‘good side’ towards the cameras.
“As many of you know, the passionate advocacy for mollusks and other forms of sea life is a cause very near and dear to my heart.”
“Don’t over-sell it,” I muttered, clenching my teeth together in a perfect smile.
“At any rate, I think tonight has taught us all a valuable lesson.” He levelled the long-suffering manager in his gaze, holding him hilariously accountable. “Isn’t that right, Marcel?”