The Billionaire's Desire (A Billionaire BWWM Steamy Romance) (9 page)

Chapter Twenty-One

Sanniyah

"Why
are the table cloths yellow?!" The bride is shrieking louder than her
uncle's bad band.

 
Inwardly I am dying of shame, but
outwardly I smile, poised and reassuring. "I'll take care of it right
away," I tell her, mentally chastising myself for allowing the venue to
put out the ecru table settings instead of the white ones. I am distracted, my
mind still insisting on going back to Carter's house, Carter's eyes, Carter's
bed. Carter's face as he watches me walk to the helicopter. It seemed like I
was walking for miles.

Shaking
my head, at myself, I head back to the kitchen to raise hell with the waiters.

Once
the table cloth emergency is fixed, I fade to the background. I have to force
myself to drag my mind back to where I am every three or four minutes. The
disappointment and coldness in Carter's eyes has done something strange to me.
I feel the need to talk about it bubble to my lips.

"Can
I get you anything?" The bartender is a pretty, punky looking white girl
who doesn't look old enough to be serving drinks. Her neon pink hair is caught
back in a neat, professional bun, and she is dressed in the black suit and tie
of the country club staff, but I can tell at a glance that her preferred
uniform is tattered fishnets and eyeliner.
 

"Something
weak enough that I can pretend I'm not drinking, but strong enough to feel
it?" I say, feeling sheepish.

She
nods briskly. "I make this for myself," she confides, pouring deftly.
Then her eyes go wide. "Oh shit, please don't say anything to my
boss."

I have
to laugh. "Please don't say anything to my bride," I answer, raising
the glass she hands me. "Cheers."

"What
are we toasting?" she smiles.

I think
for a moment. "Being an idiot?"

"Ha!
Yeah I will definitely drink to that." She gulps a hurried beer, then
moves over to another sloshed uncle of the bride who is taking full advantage
of the open bar.
 
I lean on a stool
and contemplate what I have just said.

Why did
I say that? I made the decision to leave Carter's because I thought it was the
smartest thing to do. Sleeping with my bride's brother was never part of the
plan, and sleeping with a man like Carter Easton was a distraction I didn't
need right now. I was poised to break into the big time. I didn't have time for
a relationship.

Fuck,
where did that come from?
A relationship?

"You
okay over here?" The punky bartender is eyeing me with some concern and I
realize I must be mumbling to myself.

Hastily,
I straighten up. "You know what, I'm not really sure what I am."

"You
want to talk about it?" She shoots me a smile. "I'm a bartender, I
listen to people's problems and then they tip me well. It's sorta how this
whole thing works."

I laugh
and extend my hand. "Sanniyah."

She takes
it like a queen receiving a commoner, then laughs at herself. "Kat,"
she replies with a huff and roll of her black-rimmed eyes.

"Kat,
well, I don't know what to say except," I think for a second, then it
comes to me.
 
"I don't know why
I called myself an idiot just now. I think I made the right decision, no,
scratch that, I know I did. But if I did, why does it feel so hard and
hollow?"

"What
did you decide?"

I
grimace. "Not to have the sexiest man I have ever laid eyes on make me
breakfast."

"Oof,"
she says sympathetically. "That's a tough one. Why didn't he?"

"Because
I left as soon as I woke up."

"Why
did you leave?"

"Because
he's the brother of a client and sleeping with him was probably the worst thing
I could have ever done."

Kat
widens her eyes even further. "Are you like, married something?"

"What?
No!

"Oh."
She looks confused.

"Why
did you ask?"

She
shrugs dramatically. "I dunno, the way you're talking, I thought you were
like, married with kids and this was some fling you had. If you're single and
so is he, what's the problem?"

I huff.
"The problem is that it's unprofessional!"

"You
like him?"

"Yeah."
Saying it out loud fills me with a desperate little thrill.

"And
I'm going to go out on a limb here and say he likes you too, right?" She
wiggles her eyebrows. "Men are usually pretty fucked up, in my opinion.
But he'd have to be blind not to like you, you're absolutely gorgeous."

"Thank
you," I smile at her.

"Did
he tell you you're gorgeous?"

I think
back, flushing down in my core. "Multiple times."

"Well
then," Kat slaps her hands together like this is a done deal. "I
honestly can't figure out why you think you have a problem, so I am using my
power as a bartender to say that you don't. I have that power, you know. It's
in the handbook or something."

"Oh
yeah?" I might be getting a little
more drunk
than I intended, because she's making me giggle. "Is it a secret
handbook?"

"Well
of course it is. You can't see it, they'd take away my powers and I'd be a mere
mortal again. But, I can at least do this." She lifts her hands in a
dramatic gesture of blessing. "By the power invested in me by the state of
alcoholism, I hereby absolve you of your guilt. Go forth and have breakfast
with the sexy guy.

 
I burst out laughing. "Thank you!"
I lean sloppily against the bar. "I wish it was that easy, but it's not. It's
not actually that easy."

"Sure
it is."

 
Kat claps her hands together again, but
the humor of the moment drains quickly away the more I think about it. My smile
fades as I realize, "No, it actually isn't." I'm shaking my head back
and forth like a metronome. "I didn't exactly leave him on the best
terms."

Kat
huffs dramatically, clearly annoyed with my drunken hemming and hawing. "So
call him and say you're sorry!" she explodes.
 
Gesturing to my drink, she wiggles her
eyebrows. "I could make you a few more of those, if you need some liquid
courage. "

I waver
and glance down at my now empty glass. My heart is racing.
Just call him, huh? All I have to do is swallow my pride and call
Carter. No big deal, right? Just apologize for losing my shit and hope that
he's not as angry as he looked on the helipad. Then I just have to somehow
manage to keep business and pleasure from mixing too much and also hope that
Camilla isn't thoroughly disgusted by my actions while at the same time keeping
my brand and business moving forward on the track I had been planning out for
years while also being a good daughter to my dying stepfather who I haven't visited
yet....

Shit

Oh god.

"You
know what, yeah. I'm definitely going to need a few more."

Chapter Twenty-Two

Sanniyah

When I
finally stumble home, I am more than slightly drunk. I need to sleep, but I am
way too keyed up to do anything other than text Tricia. "You up?"

In
reply, I hear a dull thud. She's banging on the wall to let me know that she is
still up. The faint sounds of music accompany her invitation.

Just as
I raising my hand to knock, Tricia flings open the door, shotglass in hand.
"Bottom's up, bitch! Rita got a new job!"

Rita is
behind her, rolling her eyes so hard they might fall out of her head. I raise
my glass to her. "Congratulations!" I shout, a little too loudly. The
bourbon blazes a trail down my throat and I can feel my tattered emotions
rising even closer to the surface. "What are you going to be doing?"

She
squares her shoulders, then collapses, giggling and shaking her head. Tricia
eyes her with drunken pride. "You're looking at the new Senior Fellow for
Journalism Ethics at Haywood University."

"That's
incredible! I'm honored to be in your illustrious presence."

Rita
rolls her eyes again. "It sounds lot more prestigious on paper. Honestly,
I'm not even sure why they chose me."

Tricia
fixes her with a glare. "Because you're incredible. And you're damn good
at your job. The paper hasn't been using you the way they should be. Not at
all. You're finally going to get to shine, baby!" She breaks out into a
spontaneous jig that has us both laughing.

"Haywood
University, that's one I haven't heard of."

Rita
shakes her head. "You probably wouldn't, unless you were looking for
journalism schools in New England."

I feel
my heart sink. "So...you have to like, live there and stuff, right?"

Tricia
stops her spastic dancing. "Oh, um, yeah Yahya." She darts a quick
look at Rita who shakes her head imperceptibly. "We're going to have to
move."

All of
a sudden, all of the drinking hits me at once. My head is spinning as I sag
into the couch. Tricia moving? My best friend? Sure, since she and Rita got
married, I've been the third wheel, but I somehow thought we'd always live in
close proximity to each other. I couldn't bring myself to picture it otherwise.

Tricia
moves to sling her arm around Rita, nudging her into dancing. "You do
understand that I can't dance to the music that's only in your head,
right?" Rita laughs, squirming away. I smile, but it dies on my lips and
Rita notices immediately.

"Yahya,
you okay?"

"I'm
great," I lie. "I'm totally thrilled for you. I just think...no wait,
I know I drank way too much tonight."

Tricia
cocks her head. "You went out without me? Bitch, you told me you were
working."

"I
know," I moan, leaning forward and cradling my head in my hands. "I
was working. I broke my rule about not drinking on the job." I laugh
ruefully. "I'm breaking a lot of my own rules lately."

"You
don't break rules." Tricia shakes her head. "Sorry, that doesn't
compute."

I
laugh, then cringe as it makes the throbbing in my head worse. "Yeah,
apparently I do."

"Bullshit.
I bet you like, forgot to pay a meter or something."

I look
up at her through my fingers. "Try, 'I slept with my client's
brother.'"

Tricia's
mouth is a perfect 'O' of shock. "The white guy? The rich guy? Romeo and
freaking Juliet guy?"

"Yes,"
I moan softly.

"This
is huge." She plops herself right next to me, pressing in close.
"Babe go get me more bourbon, I need it." Rita grabs the bottle and
mutely pours us two more shots. I watch her warily, expecting her to start
hollering at me any moment. In fact, I would relish it. Then I would know I deserved
to feel as shitty as I do. Tricia leans back on the couch, pursing her lips,
her eyes unreadable as she stares off into the distance.

I wait.

Then I
wait some more.

"Tricia,
if you don't say something, I'm going to self-combust."

She
turns to me, slowly. "Okay then. I have one question for you."

I
swallow hard. "What?"

"How
was he?"

"What?!"

"In
bed? Was he any good?"

“Why do
you care?” I said, laughing.

“I’m
just curious!”

I slump
back, suddenly boneless at the memory. "Best I've ever had," I half
moan, half sigh. "And then in the morning he offered to make me poached
eggs...right before I had a mental breakdown and ran out of there."

Tricia
is speechless for possibly the first time in her life. But I suddenly can't
stop the words from coming.

"Tricia,
oh my god. I like him. I do. He's got this weird duality to him, where one
moment he's all formal and holding open doors for me and the next moment he's
tearing off my clothes." I ignore Tricia's shocked sound and plow on, the
words coming in a stream of conscious ramble that I couldn't contain if I
tried. "But it's just...bad fucking timing. Like, literally the worst.
Nothing is going according to my plan, not the business stuff, not the family
shit, none of it, and when I got the Camilla Easton wedding I thought,
holy shit this is it, I finally have made my
break!
I wanted everything to go flawlessly from start to finish so that I
could use this as a launching point, get Felicia to fucking call me back and
then I'd be able to focus on fixing my personal life afterwards. I don't have
time for a man to complicate my life! I mean, I planned on taking some time off
once the licensing process was over, maybe I can wait until that...."

Tricia
speechlessness is finally broken when she practically explodes off the couch. "Yahya,
this isn't the kind of shit you can
plan,
girl! You know what your problem is? I'll tell you, because I see you doing it
to yourself over and over again. You want the world to follow your rules when
the world is just doing its own thing with you in it. You're not in control,
and that's a fucking beautiful thing, don't you see? You gotta roll with it and
when gorgeous guys who make your parts tingle tell you they want to make you
breakfast, you fucking stay for breakfast. I'm a fucking lesbian and if he's
half as sexy as you make him sound I would have eaten his eggs from here until
next week.

Rita chucks
a throw pillow at her. Tricia puts up a soothing hand and grins lasciviously.
"Baby
don't
be jealous, you know I only eat your
eggs."

"Gross,"
Rita laughs and I am filled with another flood of sadness. I love these two
more than is sensible, how am I going to be able to handle it when they move?
The sadness spreads through me, a level of grief that doesn't make sense with
my happy surroundings. I don't understand where it is coming from...until the
text message alert goes off on my phone. I look down, already knowing what I am
going to see.

"Yahya?"
Tricia sees me staring at my phone in mute sorrow.

"It's
my mom," I explain. "Otis is in the hospital."