Marrying My Billionaire Hookup
Sleep and sex, indeed. And me enjoying the full benefit of at least one, if not both.
I’m pretty sure I know which one I’ll be enjoying to the fullest. I’ve already experienced his stamina and skill.
Besides, the level of his technique made me wonder about his past relationships. He must’ve had a lot of women. Were they sophisticated and well educated? Cultured? Did they fit in with his social status?
Although he didn’t say anything about it, I wonder if he’ll expect me to move to Louisiana eventually. It’s probably not possible for him to relocate his company’s headquarters here. The logistics alone… And I don’t want to be the one responsible for workers losing their jobs.
If I tell him I’m not moving, is he going to give up? The possibility bugs me like poorly coordinated jewelry.
It isn’t like me to waffle like this, though. I should meet with Edgar and hash it all out.
My phone rings. It’s a number I don’t recognize, but at least it won’t be Aaron. He quit getting new burner phones after his successful blackmail at Starbucks.
“Hello, this is Josephine Martinez,” I answer in a calm, professional voice.
“Hi, this is David Darling. You came recommended as a fashion consultant, and I’m hoping to hire you to dress a young woman.”
Hmm. The name sounds familiar, but I can’t quite place it.
As though he senses my confusion, he adds, “I was at the party. The one with those pies from Japan.”
“I don’t remember meeting you.” I didn’t meet anyone once I was introduced to Edgar.
“We didn’t, but I met Hilary Pryce and Yuna Hae, and they both said you’re the best when it comes to fashion. So I’m calling. Are you available today?”
It’s either this or think about Edgar forever. And luckily for David, I don’t have anything today, which is sort of unusual. “As it happens, I am free today. I can tell you my rates if—”
“Money isn’t a problem. Her looking good is, though.”
“Okay. Who is she and how does she need to look?”
“My assistant. Erin. Nice girl. Really great, but she needs to look a bit, um, sleeker, if you know what I mean. But she also needs to look like a homebody.”
A homebody? This man has no clue what he’s saying.
“Actually, that’s not quite the right word…” he adds after a moment.
“You need a look that implies sophisticated wholesomeness.” He isn’t the first person to mangle what he needs, and I’ve become very good at cutting through superfluous words to the actual meat.
“Yes!” he says, brighter and excited. “Exactly! Wow, you are good.”
I resist an urge to blow on my nails. “It’s nothing. Just my job.”
“She needs to look like the kind of girl that makes you think of home and hearth. Mother Earth. Just, you know, in designer clothes.”
I raise an eyebrow. Nobody slaves over a st
ove in a Chanel dress, no matter what his female experience has shown him. If anybody tried to sell that to him, it was totally fake.
“What time and where? I’ll need to see Erin in person before I can decide how I’m going to transform her.” Every outfit and accessory is fully customized based on the person’s body type, height and coloring. And this woman might need some help with makeup and hair, too. “Also, what’s your budget?”
“I told you, there’s no budget. How about noon at the Sweet Darlings’ new office? I’ll text you the address. Ask for Erin Clare when you get here. She’ll be at her desk.”
“Got it. I’ll see her then.”
I hang up then start to get ready. Since I’m pregnant, I drink a bottle of sparkling water rather than my usual coffee. Then I munch on a handful of baked bagel chips and guacamole. Can’t skip breakfast anymore. I should probably buy something healthier than the bagel chips, but guacamole is super good for you, so I figure it’s a wash.
Since I know nothing about Erin, I decide to go for friendly but firm authority. Some clients can be very set in their ways, and refuse to accept that in order for them to look better, they need to listen to my advice.