The Boyfriend (The Boss 7)

“How are you going to know if it sucks if nobody else sees it?” Deja asked, reaching for the salt.

“Okay, obviously I’ll let someone read it. Maybe. Probably under a pseudonym online where I don’t know anyone and can remain a stranger.”

“I think you should do it,” Holli said, uncharacteristically serious. “You need something, Sophie. You’re going to get bored really fast just sitting on your ass out in the Hamptons.”

“Hey. I’m not just sitting on my ass. Sometimes I’m getting spanked on it.” I made eyebrows at her and tucked back into my meal. “But listen...I’ll write something if you promise you’ll do a feature for the magazine.”

“I think I’m the one who has the final say on that,” Deja reminded me wryly.

“I love and respect you, and if you don’t flex some nepotism to put my best friend in your magazine, I’m going to call you mean names behind your back,” I warned her.

Deja stuck her tongue out at me.

“So, Sophie is writing a book, you’re writing about me, and I’m gonna do what?” Holli asked her wife, batting her eyes at her in adoration.

“You’re gonna be a pain in my ass,” Deja said, flicking her in the ear.

I mean...she probably wasn’t wrong.

It was late in the afternoon when the helicopter landed at our house. A member of the security staff waited for me with the golf cart.

“Ms. Scaife,” he said, taking my hand to help me down the steps. I always ducked. I didn’t know why; the rotors were placed high enough that there wasn’t any danger of decapitation. Still, I always imagined it, graphically, every time I got out.

“Thanks, Don.” I followed him to the cart and hopped on. In the winter, they used a gas powered one with larger tires than the electric summer models. It helped them reach unpaved areas if there was ever any suspicious activity.

If there had been, I never knew about it. I preferred it that way. Neil had said that over the years there had been threats against him, against Emma, against Elizabeth. It was something to be expected, he would say breezily as if a constant danger of kidnapping was a normal part of everyone’s life. I was glad we had so many guards, but I never wanted to know if anyone ever sent some scary letter about me.

We pulled up in front of the house just as the high, finely-tuned sound of an engine approached from behind us. Neil pulled up in one of his ridiculous cars; some kind of Lamborghini, I assumed from the weird doors. I still had no clue what symbols went with which automobile, but I’d found that the more a car looked like a Hot Wheel, the more likely it was a Lambo.

He turned off the ignition, and one of the doors slid up. He exited and gave a wave.

“Afternoon, Mr. Elwood,” Don said. I thanked him for the ride and stepped out, and he whizzed away.

Neil walked toward me as the car door lowered automatically.

“Hey, baby,” I said as he crossed behind me to stand on my left side. “How was the track?”

He slid his arm around my waist as we walked to the door. “Challenging. I don’t like the way the Huracán handles on the heated track. I think it’s going to be a summer-only vehicle.”

“That’s great to hear, considering how much you spent on it.” Not that he would have been driving it to the grocery store or anything. Most of his cars were practically museum pieces, only driven when he had the chance to take them out to the track. In their off-time, they sat shiny and well-lit in their garage.

Yet, he thought I was ridiculous for having too many bath bombs I hadn’t gotten around to using.

“I suppose this means you need to buy a new winter car, then?” I joked.

To my surprise, he gave me a serious answer. “No. I never thought I would say this but...I think I have too many now.”

That jolted me. “Are you okay? Are you feeling well?”

“Please stop. You’re simply too clever, and I’ll die of a hernia from laughing,” he deadpanned. “I’ve simply been thinking about the space we have. It’s already starting to run out, and El-Mudad mentioned he might bring some of his cars here from France.”

“So, it’s a practical thing, but not a ‘don’t spend millions on new toys every year’ practicality?” I punched in the code for the front door, and Neil pushed it open.

“Exactly. I truly don’t want to go to the expense of building another garage, having the landscaping repaired once it’s been driven all over, and we have other things we need to think of fitting into the compound.” He took off his coat as he stepped into the foyer.

I went to the closet to hang mine up, then reached back for his. “Really? What are we building now?”