Page 46 of My Ex's Best Friend

“Yes.”

"Sure, why not?” Maybe this means that she is at least willing to spend time with me.

The breakfast spread is grand—marmalade, toast with avocado and strawberry jam. And there’s a jug with the most splendid coffee I’ve ever had.

“Food in France tastes different,” Kiera says, nibbling on a pear. “Especially the fruits.”

I watch her through the rim of my cup. I can never get enough of her.

The sun is shining above us, but it’s not harsh. Kiera’s hair has been transformed into a pale halo. She looks just like an angel in the yellow sun dress she’s wearing, her cheeks tinged a subtle pink.

Fuck! I have to remind myself that she’s my employee, and I can’t be having such thoughts about her.

I clear my throat. “So, does the city live up to your expectations?”

She nods. “I’ve already found the most amazing theater to see.”

“Which play? I’m just curious. I wasn’t inviting myself.”

“It’s an adaption of Taming of the Shrewd, played at a theater Shakespeare himself has been said to perform at. Isn’t that wonderful?”

“Hmmm.”

“I can get you a ticket if you want.”

“If my schedule allows, sure, but I can’t guarantee anything right now.”

“Right.” She almost sounds disappointed.

I don’t understand her. Is she extending the olive branch? But why now?

Do you still hate me, Kiera?

She can’t. If she did, she would have never accepted the job offer. And I console myself with the thought.

It takes us an hour to find our way to the client’s house. It’s sprawling, with the kind of opulence that gives you no option but to look at it. Honestly, it’s a little too much for me. But the owner is the CEO of an international shipping and export company, so I’m not surprised.

But he’s also incredibly picky.

“So, has he seen the catalogue already?” Kiera asks. “Does he like anything?”

“I’m not here to make a sale, just to make preliminary acquaintance.”

“Really? Where’s the wine?” she asks.

“There’s no good wine I can offer this man that he doesn’t already have,” I say. “It’ll just come off as condescending.”

“I guess,” Kiera says.

We’re ushered into the foyer by the staff and asked to wait there. The foyer is filled with paintings.

I walk over to one and examine it. I don’t know the artist

“This place is heaven,” Kiera says. She looks like she’s about to start vibrating.

“Slow down, kid.”

“This place is like a museum,” she says. “Are you sure we’re not in an actual museum right now?”

---