Style (Dressing a Billionaire Book 2): A Romantic Comedy (2 page)

And never fighting meant a false relationship in my book. No fighting meant, no real communication. When people communicate, they sometimes fight. You can’t be in a relationship and have everything be perfect, or it isn’t real. Call me a skeptic, but a strong relationship requires passionate discourse and a good fight here and there. I’m not talking knock down, drag out, just a “fuck you” here and there and lots of door slamming. Right?

“Secrets?” I asked.

“Not that I knew of. She hadn’t been too fond of my upbringing, being adopted, and not a true Popovits. Actually, her parents had the problem with my history, she didn’t.” Or maybe she did. He looked at me. “True southerners, you know? Wanted the same for her. I’d been adopted by my parents at the age of four, from a Yankee family.” He laughed.

“What’s so funny?”

“It’s the twenty-first century. Who even uses those words in this day and age, other than a born and bred southern family? Well, that’s the Rawlings clan, born and bred.” He said with sarcasm in his voice.

“We are in Texas.” As backward as the words seemed, they also hit a nerve, I could tell.

“Kelsey said it was ancient history, and that she loved me. Like I said, we’d been in love and together since high school. The time being right for us to settle down and make it official came just as I’d prepared to receive my doctoral degree.”

He rocked in the chair and didn’t speak for several minutes. I said nothing, afraid to break the spell.

“I bought an emerald cut sapphire, because I knew she didn’t want a diamond. The stone had diamond baguettes for each year we’d been together.”

I looked down and saw the cufflinks, my heart raced with anticipation for the rest of the story.

“Kelsey hated the world we lived in, the opulence, the decadence, and oversized everything of Texas. She’d said she wanted a house she could call home, not a mansion. So I built her this house.” I guess for rich people six-thousand square feet is nothing. And building it lickety-split, because your girlfriend doesn’t want anything too lavish, is no big deal either.

I knew that much already, I wanted to know about the proposal. But I waited.

“I had her meet me at her favorite diner. Not a white tablecloth restaurant, but a hometown diner. I got on one knee and asked her to marry me, opening the ring box, and telling her she’d been the love of my life since I met her in sixth grade.”

He stopped talking again. He’d been staring off into the boxwoods at nothing. Again, I waited.

“She didn’t say yes or no, just stood and walked out of the diner. She got in her car and drove away. I got off my knee and stood there, watching her disappear into the sunset in the car I bought her.”

Dumped in public, that had to hurt. Maybe the diner had been too pedestrian for his proposal. Even if it had been her favorite restaurant. Was Kelsey that shallow?

“Did you call her?” I had to know.

“Yes, and texted, and even went to her house.”

“And?” My patience worn through.

“She didn’t go home. She didn’t answer the phone. But she did text me once. It read, ‘Don’t contact me again. Don’t look for me. I can’t be your wife, and I can’t see you again. Goodbye.’ Then she changed her phone number. She blocked me from Facebook and all other social media.”

“But you’re rich, and a computer genius, didn’t you hack her?” The sheer stupidity of this guy ignoring his God-given talent astounded me.

“Why would I do that? Why would I waste my time and effort on someone who didn’t want anything to do with me? The woman who stole all those years of my life by pretending we’d be together forever? It’d be like beating a dead horse. I already felt dead inside, so why make it worse?” He spat the words. True, but then why keep this six-thousand-square-foot monument for her?

“Because maybe you could have made it work? Maybe she’d lost her mind momentarily, and she’d wanted you to find her and beg her to marry you?” I wanted true love to win, even though his story broke my heart.

“Really? Would you want to spend the rest of your life with someone you had to chase down? Someone you’d always question? Would you want to beg that person to love you?”

I shook my head. He had a very good point.

“Besides, I didn’t change anything. I still have the same phone number, live in the same place, drive the same cars. Okay, the cars are new, but otherwise.” His voice lightened a bit.

“I agree. But I don’t understand why you didn’t sell this house. Maybe you hoped she’d come back?”

He didn’t answer.

I looked off into the night, almost not wanting him to answer. I thought my heart hurt when I saw Miles, but I felt the same ache for Hugo.

“I put so much love into this house. Not just for her, but for me, for the chance to live like normal people. I always thought someday I’d find someone to love me, and they’d love this house as much as I do. I’ve spent the last four years hiding behind a beard and long hair, and my company, not giving myself the chance to find someone, because I didn’t want to hurt like that again.”

I knew the hurt he spoke of. I felt it as raw as if I’d seen Miles and Marla yesterday. Oh, wait, I’d seen them only an hour or so earlier. And Miles hadn’t even been the love of my life. In fact, as I listened to Hugo, I realized I hadn’t yet met the love of my life. At least not the way he had. The girl who made him whole. I’d never found a man who made me whole.

“But you shaved,” I said, wanting to reach out and run the back of my hand along his cheek.

He smiled. “I did.”

I smiled. I had no idea what to say, but I smiled with him and prayed his heart would heal.

“I’m ready to stop living like a hermit. I want to live for real again. I want to feel, to be felt, and I want to find the girl of my dreams. Who knows, I may already have met her, but I didn’t know it, because I wasn’t even looking or giving myself a chance.”

A surge leapt through my body. I wanted that girl to be me, sort of. I wanted to get to know Hugo better, and I liked kissing him. But his world and mine didn’t collide like that. I worked for his kind, I didn’t date them.

“Does this mean you’re ready to burn the shorts and tees?” I could only hope.

“Do you have a passport?”

I frowned. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“I want to take you to Europe to go shopping.” He sat up. “What do you say?”

From gloom to Europe in sixty seconds. I had a huge learning curve when it came to these ultra-rich folks.

E
urope
? How did we go from talking about his ex, to planning a trip to Europe? And no way was I going out of the country with a man I barely knew. You’ve seen the movie
Hostile
, right? When I spoke again, I almost lied.

“It’s expired.”

“Then what about New York City or San Francisco?” He stood up. “Los Angeles?”

“Excuse me? Los Angeles?”

He laughed. “Too soon?”

I leaned toward him and squeezed his forearm. “Let’s compromise. How about Las Vegas?”

He took me by the hand. “Vegas it is. I’ll have Timmy file a flight plan and we can leave in the morning.”

I just made plans to go to Vegas with a multi-millionaire. In his own plane! I performed a silent jig.

We walked into the house, and I thought we were headed back to the car. Instead, Hugo turned down the hall, and we walked into the master bedroom. Just like that, Vegas slid to the back of my mind.

“Whoa.” I should have been stunned that he led me to a bedroom, but the room overwhelmed me.

Unlike the stark master bedroom in his other house, this room had been fully decorated and furnished. A wagon wheel chandelier of silver and glass hung from the ceiling, over a huge bed of cream and gray linens. The bed screamed, “Take down my duvet and climb inside!”

At the foot of the bed sat a sofa with a burlap look, but linen texture, and three pillows placed across the surface read:
You. Me. Us.
And on the wall, a breathtaking original Degas painting that would be a reprint in any other home. Okay, I’m assuming it was an original. Not that I’d be able to tell the difference, plus I didn’t get that close.

“Am I getting the full tour tonight?” I asked.

Hugo removed his cufflinks and placed them on the nightstand. Then he removed his jacket. “Do you like old movies?”

I did. I shrugged.

He unbuttoned and unzipped his pants.

Oh no.

Next he unbuttoned his shirt.

“What’s going on here?” I wanted to help him undress, but I didn’t dare touch him for fear I’d do more. Like undress myself.

Not to mention, I hadn’t trimmed my muff scruff in weeks. Nor had I shaved my legs or toe hair. This couldn’t happen, even if I wanted it to. Had I shaved my pits? I think I had. Oh crap, how to check? I’d have to make sure I didn’t raise my arms until I knew. I could barely hear him talking as I assessed my body maintenance.

“It’s still early, and I’m not ready to face the real world again just yet. Let’s climb in bed and watch old movies.” He pulled his suit pants off, then removed his shirt, placing both on the sofa at the end of the bed.

“We can’t watch movies in the living room?” I headed away from the bedroom.

“No TV in the living room, sorry. We’d have to watch from our phones in there.” He pulled back the covers and slid into the bed.

And damn if he didn’t have just the right amount of chest hair to keep a girl warm, but not feel like she’s snuggling with a grizzly bear.

“What about going out for tacos, or chicken, a pizza even?” I asked, still contemplating ways to get out of this.

He grabbed the remote from the table and turned on the TV, and just like that the painting on the far wall transformed into a television. Okay, so it wasn’t an original piece of art, but an original something else. The television moonlighted as wall art.

I lost my train of thought for a second and said, “Very cool.”

Hugo laughed and patted the bed beside him. “I promise, I don’t bite.”

Honey, you can bite me anytime, anywhere.

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” I teased. “It’s, well, we’ve kissed, and now I feel weird climbing into bed with you.”

Hugo waved me off. “We’ve kissed twice, but it didn’t mean anything.”

Ouch. “Right. But I’m not exactly dressed for this.”

I’d made way too much out of the kisses, and I now knew it. Reality is almost always suckier that the world in my head.

“I don’t care if you wear your dress on my bed, or if you strip down to your undies, I’m still safe, I promise. I’m not going to jump your bones.” He patted the bed again.

I may as well have been wearing a burlap sack and a bag over my head, for all of the attraction he felt for me and all the times he’d just said he wasn’t going to do anything. I wished he still looked like the caveman who rescued me. That way, I wouldn’t be lusting after him like a cat in heat.

And with all that unmanaged fur down there, I may as well be a cat in heat howling in a dark alley.

“How about I drive back into town and grab us something to eat. I’m betting there isn’t any food in this house, and I haven’t eaten. And you’ve had a lot to drink, so you should have something to eat.”

Hugo got out of bed, went to his clothes on the sofa. Yes, we were leaving!

Or not. He pulled his phone from the pocket of his pants.

He typed for a minute or two while I stood frozen in place, staring at the ripples and curves of his body.

“There, done. Food will be here within the hour. Any other objections?” He put his phone on the nightstand and climbed back into bed. This time instead of patting the bed, he pulled back the covers on the other side. “What do you want to watch?”

I want to watch you strip out of that underwear and roll over toward me, then watch as you pull me down on top of you.
For starters, anyway. I shook my head. Calm down, horny cat.

“I don’t care what we watch.”

He flipped through a selection of classic films.

Was this really happening? “Were you serious about going shopping?” I asked, walking up to his side of the bed.

“Yes, Timmy will fly us there in the morning.”

“Then I need to go home and get some clothes and make sure I’m dressed comfortably for the trip and for a day of shopping.” And wax everything from my toes to my upper lip. Maybe my brows. “Can Timmy pick me up in the morning?”

Before I knew it, Hugo grabbed my hand and pulled me onto the bed. I lay face down on top of him, my nose in his armpit. I’m not embarrassed to say, he smelled good. I am embarrassed to say I almost licked his skin.

“Oops, oh my god, I’m so sorry.” I tried to scramble off.

He held me. “I don’t beg, Maisy, but I’ll beg if I have to. Please jump in bed and watch movies with me. I just want to disappear for a few hours into a world of fiction. And I’d love it if you joined me.”

It took every ounce of willpower not to rearrange my body over his and kiss him on the mouth. Not to strip myself naked and trail kisses down his nearly nude body. Then I closed my eyes and remembered, my body looked like his face when we first met. Tarzan, meet Hairy Jane. Fantasy over!

He rolled me off of him and onto the other side of the bed. “I love Marilyn Monroe. Have you seen
Gentleman Prefer Blondes
?”

Before I could answer, the intro music to the movie started, and Hugo slid down on the bed, then tucked an extra pillow under his head. I liked old movies, but I wasn’t a huge Marilyn fan, more of an Audrey fan, or Vivien Leigh.

I contemplated jumping off the bed and running to the car. I’d drive home, then call him. We’d meet in the morning and fly to Vegas. But if I left, would there still be a trip? After all, he was filthy rich, and even though he seemed like a nice guy, he was used to giving orders and having them obeyed. Was this a business trip, or pleasure? Or maybe a little of both, if I got lucky. I liked Hugo for some crazy reason. I liked lying next to him on the bed and snuggling in delectable sheets. Why on earth would I contemplate leaving? Why? Because I couldn’t afford to like this. To like this lifestyle that I couldn’t afford. I wasn’t a billionaire; I was an employee to a billionaire. I had to keep reminding myself, it’s a job, I’m not family or friends. Hugo said it already, he wanted someone who wasn’t family, friend, or employee.

“I’m going to grab my phone, if that’s okay.” I sat up in bed. “I left the house in a hurry and didn’t tell my parents where I was going.” I swiveled and put my feet on the floor.

Hugo paused the movie. “Okay, I’ll wait until you get back to start the movie.”

I straightened out my dress and walked across the room, keenly aware of Hugo’s eyes on me. I tried not to be self-conscious. I couldn’t look at him, and I rushed out of the room.

Outside, the night still held the heat of the day, but a breeze had crept in. I stood on the porch, imagining the garden in the daylight. I breathed in the scent of the greenery and walked along the path to the car.

I opened the door to see my phone lit up. A text message from Orlean. I swiped and read the message.

Have you seen TMZ? Are you out of your mind?

I texted back.
What are you talking about?

Girl, you’re on the front page of TMZ’s website, KISSING Hugo!!! Then there’s another photo of you and Hugo running and HOLDING HANDS!!! What is going on?

I tapped the Safari icon and pulled up the TMZ website. And there it was. Wow, in the photo they published, that kiss looked passionate. I closed my eyes and felt Hugo’s lips on mine again. Whoa, this was bad. Very bad.

I looked for my name, “Sources say the woman is a native Texan, Maisy Tucker. Yes, the same Maisy Tucker seen with Hugo’s sister Stella Popovits. Guess she’s keeping it in the family.”

My face burned with embarrassment.

“Are you okay?” Hugo stood in the doorway, looking out at me.

I looked up. The silhouette of his body a shadow against the light behind him.

“I’m good,” I yelled out the window. “I’ll be right back.”

Girl, your phone will be blowing up with business!

I responded,
I’ve gotta go. Still with Hugo.

SWEET!!!

Whatever!
I texted back.

We’ll have coffee in the morning.

Can’t. I’m flying to Vegas in the morning.

WHAT!?!?!

I left her hanging as I scrolled through my other messages. Apparently everyone I knew stalked the TMZ website. What the hell? Then I smiled. Marla probably watched their pages, too. The more her clients were photographed, the better she looked. Too bad I hadn’t been ready for the paparazzi when I picked Hugo up. I could have dazzled in a better outfit. That would teach me not to be around Hugo or Stella without a sick outfit. I had to learn to be a better socialite tag-along.

Seventeen missed calls. I didn’t even bother with the messages.

I dialed my mom’s cell phone.

“Hello, dear. Thanks for dinner,” she answered with a bit of sass.

“Sorry, Mom, I was called away on business.”

“Yes, so I’ve seen. My friends sent me the link to the sleazy photo of you and Hugo. What’s going on Maisy Lynn Tucker?”

She used my full name. Shit. “It’s not what you think. The kiss wasn’t anything. It was a stunt for the cameras.” More specifically, a stunt for Marla and Miles, where cameras just happened to be. “And I’m at Hugo’s house now. He needed a ride and his driver had the night off.”

“There’s still some pizza if you get home soon,” her tone nicer. “I told my friends you’d never stoop so low as to kiss Hugo for publicity, but I guess I was wrong.”

I shook my head. “Mom, I was kidding, we didn’t even know there were photographers around. It’s stupid. And I’m not coming home. I’m staying the night at Hugo’s place. I wanted to give you the courtesy of a phone call.”

“Darling, you aren’t sixteen anymore. And come to think of it, you didn’t give us that courtesy back then.” She got me there. I heard a smile in her voice.

“Well, I’m all grown up now, and I’m calling.” I figured it was never too late to respect your parents more. “I’ll be home in the morning to pack a bag. I’m headed to Vegas.” I waited for the response.

“One: don’t grow up, it’s highly overrated. Two: if you’re going to Vegas, I’m packing a bag, too. I’ve never been.”

Not the response I expected. “As much as I’d love to explore Vegas with you, Mom, it’s a business trip. We’ll go later this year when I have some money.”

“I have money. Bruce’s payment jar adds up,” she offered.

I laughed. “Next time.”

We finished our call as I walked back into the house. I had a smile on my face when I entered the bedroom, but Hugo didn’t return my smile, nor did he have the same relaxed demeanor he’d had when I left.

He had his phone to his ear. “No, Stella, I’m not happy. And I’m not going back. I made my appearance and gave the money, now I’m out. And by the way, who invited the media?”

I waved and walked over to the bed.

“I’m splattered all over the Internet! You promised this wouldn’t happen.” He slammed his head back onto his pillows. “Did you see the headline about me running away from Kelsey? Dammit, Stella, this is why I don’t attend this shit, and you know it. It’s going to stir up rumors, and I’ll have one more thing on my plate to fix.”

I could hear Stella yelling into the phone, “Don’t be an ass! It’ll be fantastic publicity for the release. Come Monday, all your hard work will have paid off. For now, enjoy the limelight and treat yourself to some downtime this weekend.”

“I’m hanging up now. I’ve got to go.” He slammed his phone on the nightstand.

I sat on top of the covers, and we watched the movie on the huge screen. Hugo didn’t speak, but I could hear his breathing, a stressed sound, raspy even. Like a fire breathing dragon kindling the eventual flames.

I’d been on the receiving end of Miles’ stress rants, so I sat quietly and stared at the screen without really watching the movie.

After half an hour of silence, I heard a knock at the door. “I’ll get it.”

I practically ran out of the bedroom.

I opened the door to find a delivery man from Tom Thumb. He held out the bags. “Order for Mr. Hugo Popovits.”

“You guys deliver?” I wished I’d known this before.

He smiled gracefully. “For Mr. Popovits, we do.” Of course you do.

I took the bags. “Thanks.” Then I leaned in close to him, “Do I need to tip you?”

The thick gentleman of about fifty smiled and held up his chubby hands in a “don’t shoot” style. “It’s already taken care of, thank you.”

He turned to leave, and I sniffed at the food in the bags.