Style (Dressing a Billionaire Book 2): A Romantic Comedy (5 page)

Somehow this statement reminded me of Stella.

“You’ve hired the right girl.”

He looked me up and down, and I felt my body grow warm. “Yes, I think I did.”

“Do you want to shop for fall and winter clothing, too?”

He spread the photos out. “Look at this, all of this makes me exhausted. And I’m an athlete. Let’s stick to summer, and if you don’t kill me with this shopping shit, I’ll bring you back for more.” His lips quivered a bit. “That is if you can take more of me after a whole day.”

I nearly choked, since I’d been sipping my coffee when he said it. “Uh, um, you’re funny.”

“Let’s get this show on the road.” He stood. “And if you’re a good girl, I’ll take you to lunch.”

Thinking he had a great sense of humor and knowing I wanted him as a client, I said, “You’ll be amazed at how good I am.”

“I’m sure.” He looked down at the mess of papers on the table. “Do we need to bring all of this?”

I gathered everything up and put it back in my messenger bag. “I think I’ve got what I need in my head now.”

He grabbed my hand and said, “Let’s do this.”

“I thought you said you’re on a budget. This car fits into your budget?” I’d asked when we walked into his garage.

“A man has to have two things, and two things only. Other than a good woman. That’s a fucking rad car and a bullshit big TV.” He revved the engine as the garage door opened.

Derek maneuvered his Maserati through traffic like a pro and parked on the far end of the lot at the mall.

The thing I hadn’t thought of: photogs.

“Are you used to being hounded? Because these assholes will be gettin’ in your face and asking questions.” He looked at me before opening his car door.

“I’ve been snapped a few times lately. No questions, though.”

He put his hand on my thigh, and before I could say anything, the paps moved in closer. “Stay in the car. I’ll come around to get your door. You can look at them and smile, but don’t answer any questions.” He looked out the window. “Because whatever you say will be taken out of context and come back to haunt me.”

I nodded. “I might be a bit scared.”

“Don’t be. I’m here. And I’m used to it.” He got out of the car and walked around to get me.

As we walked, he had his arm around my shoulders, and the cameras surrounded us.

“Derek, your new girlfriend?” “Mr. Gattis, are you in love?” “Yo, number twenty-seven, I thought you’d sworn off women.” The questions, repetitive and moronic, came at us fast and furious. “Hey, pretty lady, what’s your name?” “Come on, just your name?”

They stopped their bombarding of us just outside the door of the store.

I stood on my toes and whispered in Derek’s ear as he leaned down. “Are they going to follow us into the store?”

“They don’t usually. It’s private property, and they can be removed. But someone will sneak in and try to get a cellphone photo or two. Are you okay with this?”

Was he kidding? My heart pounded in my chest. “I’m terrified, but you’ll keep me safe, right?”

He nodded and once we entered the store, silence.

Derek pulled his phone from his pocket and sent a text. “My manager is calling the store to talk to the mall or store security. We should be left alone for the most part.”

And we were. I got a good idea of the sizes for him, then sent him into the dressing room. While he tried on clothes, I shopped and brought him more to try on. Usually the salesperson at Neiman would do this, but I insisted I do it. The salesman stood by just in case we had questions and warned off anyone coming near the dressing rooms. Derek made sure only he and I were allowed in.

“Girl, stop. You’re killing me,” he protested when I brought him another armload of selections.

“You’re the fussiest man I’ve ever met.” He’d rejected ninety percent of what I brought him. Refusing to try on most items.

He did like the sunglasses, though.

We’d been shopping for about two hours when I got a text from Stella.

Moving on, I see.
It had a photo of me and Derek with his arm wrapped protectively around me.

Out of context, the photo looked cozy.

I texted back. You referred him. And I thank you for that. XOXO

She shot back a smiley face.
Sorry I jumped to conclusions about you and Hugo. I think you’re good for him. He seems less stressed today.

I didn’t respond.

Derek yelled from the dressing room. “Come in here!”When I walked in, Derek stood posing. “Well?”

He’d tried on the chocolate-colored gabardine suit I’d picked out.

“Holy smokes. You look amazing.” I pulled at the fabric at his waist. “Needs to be fitted, but wow.”

“Getting down with my bad self.” He changed poses.

“You know you looked freaking hot in everything you tried on, right?”

He unbuttoned his suit jacket and started on the zipper of his pants. “I know. But I was havin’ a bit of fun with you.” He unbuttoned and pulled down his trousers. “You’re a genius, just like you said.”

Yes, yes, I am. Another zillionaire. Touchdown!

“My work here is done.” I beamed.

D
erek spent almost
ten-thousand dollars before we left the store. And he smiled even when he didn’t like my choices. But the best part had been lunch. We splurged and ate at McDonalds. Drive-thru. I collected my retainer and drove Hugo’s car back home, calculating the total invoice for Derek’s shopping spree. I might be able to get my own place sooner rather than later at this rate.

When I got home, around three in the afternoon, I pulled the car in the garage and walked into the kitchen, smiling to myself. The day had been fun and productive, and I hadn’t thought of Hugo or Miles at all. Except for the small bit from Stella. And that didn’t count.

I didn’t need Hugo’s business anymore. Derek said he’d tell his buddies about me. “Especially the wives. They’re always trying to one up each other. Those WAGS be bitches.”

“WAGS?”

“Wives and girlfriends.”

“Ah, I see. Is it true you’ve sworn off women?” I’d asked.

“I don’t have time for the drama. I have a career to worry about. Besides, they don’t give two shits about me. They like the ‘Number 27’ me.” The look on his face made me sad.

When I entered the kitchen, all thoughts of Derek and his funny ways vanished.

On the dining room table, flowers. So many roses, in so many colors, I couldn’t see the top of the table.

From behind me, in the kitchen, my dad said, “Arrived about an hour ago.”

“From who?” I asked as I walked up to the table and sniffed at the white roses.

“Not my place to read the card,” he said.

“Did Mom read it?” I knew she did.

“She hasn’t seen them yet. She’s going to flip out. ‘Where will we serve dinner tonight?’”

“If you didn’t look at the card, how do you know who they’re from or for?” I pulled the card.

Dad said, “The delivery guy said, ‘Hugo wanted me to tell Maisy hello.’”

I opened the card. It read:
I miss you!

I dropped into the closest chair.

I continued reading.
Hope you had fun shopping today. Can’t wait to see you again.

“What the…” Stella had shown him the photo of me and Derek. I spoke to the card, like Hugo could hear me. “What, you want your stylist all to yourself? Well, I’m not your beck-and-call girl.” I slammed the note on the table.

Another part of me screamed,
He misses me. He’s jealous. He misses me. He likes me.

“What are we going to do with them?” I asked my dad.

“There’s got to be a couple hundred of them. We could put them in every room and keep them fresh as long as possible.” He walked up and stood next to me. “Honey, I think that boy likes you.”

I beamed. “You think?”

“Maybe,” he said, putting his hand on my shoulder.

“But we barely know each other,” I protested.

“Or maybe he’s just being nice. And he likes your stylist service. He packs a hearty thank you, doesn’t he?” He ruffled my hair and walked out of the room.

I picked up my phone and started to send Hugo a text. I hesitated. Then I did it anyway.
Thanks for the lovely flowers! Had the best day ever. Shopping was a blast. We should do it together sometime.

I’d barely hit send when I got a text back.

You’re everywhere.
Another photo of me and Derek attached. This text came from Gwen.

I texted back.
Damn, those photos hit the press in a big old hurry.

Thought you might like to see how cute you look with Derek. Replacing Hugo so soon?

There was never a Hugo to replace. We’re done…I think. I’m not sure
.

I snapped a pic of the kitchen table and sent it to Gwen.
From Hugo
.

That doesn’t look like over to me.

I sent back a smiley face.
We need to chat. Want to go to dinner?

Can’t. I’m headed out. Flying to Germany. Ian is waiting for me. He sent me a ticket.

That text warmed my heart. She and her boyfriend rarely saw each other because of his military obligations.

XOXO safe travels
.

She didn’t text back.

I picked up the pink roses and took them into the living room. Then I grabbed the yellow ones and went outside to Bruce’s cottage.

I knocked with one hand while balancing the vase on my hip with the others. Roses with water are heavier than I realized.

No answer. I tried the knob. Open. I almost pushed the door open, then thought better of it. But when I saw the blinds move, I did it anyway. At least one person wasn’t in bed.

I hauled the door wide open. “Anyone home?”

No answer.

Orlean put her game controller down and said, “Oh, hey.”

“Am I interrupting?” I didn’t even care.

“Go away,” Bruce said.

“Who’s winning?”

“Go away,” he said again.

“Video games, Orlean, really?” I asked.

We had a hard and fast rule about gamers. No gamers! And here she was, playing Halo 5 with my brother.

Orlean tossed the controller on the coffee table. “No, it’s not what you think.”

“Hey, that’s a hundred and twenty bucks, be nice to it,” Bruce protested. To me he said, “Who invited you in?”

“If you don’t want your afternoon delight interrupted, you should lock the door.” I shoved the flowers at him. “I thought this would help the smell in here.”

It didn’t really smell, but I wanted him to squirm.

“Thanks, now, go away.” He took the roses.

“Pretty flowers, right?” I said as I sat down beside Orlean on the couch.

“They are. Did you really buy them for Bruce?”

“Nope. There’s a few hundred more in my parent’s kitchen. From Hugo.”

Orlean jumped up and then sat back down. “Oh my goodness, that’s wonderful.” She glared at Bruce. “So romantic. I’m jealous.”

I rolled my eyes. “Don’t be. There’s nothing to be jealous of. He’s a client. And they were just to say thank you.”

Bruce stood. “I’m going to grab a beer.”

“Don’t you have to work tonight?” Orlean asked.

“Yup,” he said without turning around.

“He hates that we’re friends,” Orlean said. “He’s afraid I’ll tell you all about the incredible sex, and he won’t be able to look at you the same.”

I rolled to my side and curled into the fetal position on the couch. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

Orlean slapped me on the shoulder. “You’re too silly.”

She rested her elbow on my hip. “So tell me about Hugo.”

I wasn’t ready to share yet. “Nothing to tell. I dressed him. We spent the night together. In the morning he was gone.”

Orlean flipped around to face me. “You slept with him?” She pushed me. “And you didn’t tell me immediately?”

“I sent you a text this morning, but you never responded.”

“I never got a text from you.”

“I asked if you wanted to go to coffee.”

She frowned. “Doesn’t matter. You’re here now. How was he? Did the hair get in the way?”

“You goofball. He’s all manscaped. And I do mean manscaped down to his privates. Only we didn’t have sex.”

“But you said you slept with him?” Confusion filled her eyes.

“I did sleep with him.
Sleep
being the key word.” I smiled at the memory.

“But you said his dick was slick. How would you know that if you didn’t have S.E.X.?”

“I didn’t say his dick was slick, I said he’d manscaped. And I know that because I accidentally walked in on him in the shower.” I blushed at the thought.

“And…”

“And what?”

“Is he hung?” Her whole body shivered. “I mean I could see his package in that suit. Looks like he dressed left the night of the gala.”

By dressing left, she meant he pushed his package to the left when wearing briefs and a suit.

“I don’t know. I didn’t look long enough.” Lie, lie, lie.

“But you wanted him, didn’t you? He makes you forget Miles.” She shivered some more, getting excited at the prospect.

“He does make me forget Miles.” And I had to share. “He kissed me in front of Miles.”

She cocked her head. “How is that even possible? I mean, I’d think he wouldn’t do that with Kelsey there.”

Kelsey, his ex? Did Orlean know her?

I sat back up, pushing Orlean over a bit. “I didn’t know if she was there or not, we weren’t in the ballroom. Marla and Miles attended the gala, too. Craziness, I tell you. I met Hugo in the lobby of the hotel, and suddenly I heard Marla’s voice, then I saw Miles with her. I asked Hugo to kiss me, and he did!”

She wrapped her arms around me and said, “This is the best news ever. Suck it, Miles.” Then she pushed away. “So, you didn’t know Hugo’s ex was there? Or sort of ex, I guess.”

I nodded. “Hugo told me later. I was there because he called me to rescue him.”

“Rescue him from what?”

“Kelsey, I guess.”

"I heard they’re getting back together.”

She kept talking, but I didn’t hear a word. How could I not have known this?

“I didn’t hear anything like that. In fact, Hugo was quite upset about seeing her.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that. And here I thought you had a chance with him. But this is too much to overcome.”

I glared at her. “What do you mean by that?”

Orlean patted my knee. “Don’t take this the wrong way or anything, but Kelsey’s Princess Kate, whereas you’re more like Taylor Swift.”

“What’s wrong with Taylor Swift? And what’s that supposed to mean?” I turned my whole body as I looked at my friend.

Bruce chimed in, “She means, that chick’s refined and classy, like royalty. You’re new money, like Taylor, only without the actual money.”

I wanted to tell both of them to fuck off, but instead I stood and said, “I’ve got to go.”

“Are you okay?” Orlean asked.

I didn’t even look back to respond.

“I wish you would’ve had sex with him. If you did, maybe he and Kelsey wouldn’t be getting back together. He’d be yours, darlin’.”

“Wouldn’t that make me more like Miley, then?” I snapped.

“What the hell do you mean by that?” Orlean now stood. “I’m just telling you, Hugo and Kelsey are from the same universe. You may as well be from Jupiter and speak an alien language.”

“Oh, yeah, we’d never be together. Two different worlds. I just don’t have the class to compete.” Sarcasm bled into my words.

The sarcasm lost on Orlean, she said, “But hopefully, you’ll gain another client. I mean Kelsey’s a stunner. Stella should recommend you to her.”

It took everything in me not to bitch-slap Orlean.

As I walked out of the cottage, Bruce flipped me the bird with the hand that held his Blue Moon beer.

“Love you too, bro,” I returned.

And then my heart cracked. A tiny fracture. I knew Hugo and I would never be more than stylist and client. I should never have kissed him. Just like Julia Roberts said in
Pretty Woman
,“No kissing, it’s too personal.”

I closed my eyes and saw him playing air guitar in the shower, and it healed the fracture a smidgen. I liked looking at him. I wondered if Kelsey would allow me to continue to work for him if she knew I’d been his rescuer the night of the gala.

What did it matter? I had a career to mend. And Hugo had a product launch. Had Kelsey ever helped or been a part of his work?

By the end of the day, I had meetings with four more prospective clients, and by the time I fell asleep, I hadn’t gotten a response from Hugo on my text. Maybe the flowers had been sincere. No way could he be jealous of Derek and me if he and Kelsey had decided to reconcile.

I awoke Tuesday morning with swollen eyes and a hangover. A thought hangover.

I shuffled into the kitchen to start a pot of coffee and noticed the roses were gone. All of them. Not even a vase in the living room. What the hell? Those were
my
flowers.

My mom stood in the kitchen pouring herself a fresh cup of java.

“Where are all of my flowers?” I whined.

“The cleaning lady comes today. She can’t clean around all of that. Besides, do you really need all of them? A bit gaudy, don’t you think?”

“Mom?” Something had changed in her since I returned home. “What’s the matter with you?”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” she snapped.

“You’ve been so bitchy since I’ve been back home.” There, I said it.

She collapsed against the kitchen counter and put her coffee cup down. “Does it show?”

“Does what show? That you’ve been bitchy?”

She crossed her arms against her chest. “I’m sorry.”

“I’ve made it clear I won’t be leaching off you and Dad, but at least I thought you’d like having me around.”

“Yes, honey, I do. It’s just stress. I don’t mean to take it out on you.”

“Want to talk?” I grabbed a mug from the cabinet and poured my own coffee.

She walked to the now spotless and flowerless table and sat down.

“Where’s Dad?” I asked.

“Work. Where else would he be?” she said sarcastically.

“Mom, there you go again.” I sat across from her.

“If I tell you, you have to promise not to tell him.” She leaned in, daring me.

“Fine.” Which is non-committal.

“My sales have slumped big time. I might have to go back to work.” She moved her cup around on the table.

“Why wouldn’t you tell Dad?” I asked.

“I don’t want to hear, ‘I told you so’ from him.” She looked out the sliding glass door to the backyard.

“You know he wouldn’t say that.”

She shook her head. “Oh, yes, he would. He told me this Etsy thing would wane, and my voodoo dolls would be a flash in the pan.” I thought I saw a tear.

“Maybe you need to do some marketing. You know, social media marketing.” Trying to be helpful.

She finally looked at me. “I Twitter, and Facebook, and I pin. It’s over.”

“Have you thought about going wholesale? Like selling to stores?”

“I can’t make them that fast,” she said. “They’re time-consuming.”

“What if you made them in an assembly line way? I’ve seen it done at fashion houses in the garment district.” I stood. “Come on, walk me through the process, and we can try to figure out how we can make them quicker and more efficient.”

She didn’t stand. “Then they wouldn’t be personal anymore.”