Page 4 of The Tycoon's Pet

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The next night, I’ve received a call from one of my old business school friends—and world renowned supermodel, Christy Smith, asking to meet for dinner so she can share some news with me.

Christy has a way of making everyone feel seen and appreciated, and her warm, engaging smile can disarm even the most skeptical of souls. Her charm is exactly why we became good friends back in business school. I always kept to myself back then because I couldn't be bothered to socialize but one day, Christy and I were paired for a project. I acted cold and aloof to her, but she never let that phase her. She countered my prickliness with genuine kindness and soon I found myself warming up to her infectious enthusiasm. It's been five years since I last saw her in person, but she hasn't changed a bit.

“Oh, I am so glad you could make it!” she says, greeting me with a hug at the upscale sushi restaurant.

“It's great to see you, Christy,” I reply, genuinely pleased. “What brings you to Seattle?”

She holds out her left hand, waving her perfectly manicured fingers in my face with an expectant smile. It took a while, but I finally noticed the elegant diamond band on her ring finger.

“I'm getting married!” She exclaims, her eyes sparkling with excitement. My jaw drops in surprise, and I can't help but grin widely. She deserves this.

She fills me in on the details of her soon-to-be husband, a Parisian fashion photographer. She seems truly in love, and I am beyond happy for her. No one deserves this love more than Christy.

I must have a wistful expression on my face because Christy halts her story and asks, “Who do you have on your mind? I can see it in your eyes. Spill, Paul.”

I raise my wine glass to my mouth, feeling a bit exposed. "I don't know what you're talking about," I say, smiling at her. "I'm single as a pole. One gossip blog described me as Seattle's most eligible bachelor."

“But there's someone on your mind, isn't there?” Christy insists, her eyes boring relentlessly into mine.

“Maybe you're right. I'm not sure why, though…” I murmur with a self-deprecatory smile.

“Sometimes, Paul, it takes someone else to point out what's right in front of you. If you can't stop thinking about her, there’s a reason. Maybe it's time you figured out what that reason is.”

I sigh, running a hand through my hair. "It's complicated. She's my housekeeper and a longtime friend. She's… special to me and I don't want to ruin what we have. I'd rather keep her in my life as a friend than risk losing her altogether."

Christy remains quiet for a while, looking at me with an indescribable expression. “I have a feeling she won't wait around forever, Paul.”

Her words hit me harder than I expected. The thought of Kayla moving on, of someone else making her laugh and being there for her, sends a pang of anxiety through my chest.

Pushing away the feeling, I lean back in my seat, taking a sip from my wine glass before looking at Christy with a breezy smile. We settle back in to our normal banter, and I am so lost in the great conversation with one of my closest friends that I don’t even notice the photographers stooping outside the window.

Chapter Two

Kayla

“Secret Dating Saga?: Billionaire CEO of Carlton Group rumored to be dating supermodel, Christy Smith.”

I read the headline over and over again until the words swim before my eyes, and then I glance at the picture plastered on the front page of the Daily Spark website—it’s Paul with the extraordinarily beautiful supermodel Christy Smith laughing over dinner. The picture is warm, intimate, and oozing with fame and fortune.

I suddenly feel a pang of something I can’t quite identify—is it jealousy? Sadness? I can't tell. All I know is that seeing Paul with Christy like that makes my heart ache in a way I'm not prepared for.

I close the tab, shoving my phone in my handbag with more force than necessary. Leaning back in my seat, I rub my temples, trying to ward off the headache that’s beginning to form.

"Get a grip, Kayla," I mutter to myself. "Paul is your boss, and he's entitled to his own life. This isn't your concern."

But no matter how many times I repeat that to myself, it doesn’t make the hollow feeling in my chest go away. I close my eyes but even then, the image of Paul and Christy lingers, their faces etched into my memory. I let myself relive the memory of the night before, when Paul had driven me home, the warmth in his eyes, the gentle tone in his voice. He'd always been kind, but last night, there had been something— a fleeting, confusing moment— when it felt like there could be more to what we are. It was probably just my imagination, projecting my own feelings onto him. I'm sure of that now.

This article about him and Christy is just one of the many wake-up calls that I've gotten over the years; Paul and I are worlds apart; it doesn't matter that I've known him for years or that he considers me a friend… At the end of the day, I'm just a housekeeper and he's my boss.

I glance up as the bus pulls up to my stop. I grab my jacket and handbag from the seat beside me, hurrying off the bus. I begin my trek to Paul’s house, grateful for the walk to have the chance to clear my head.

Fifteen minutes later, I’m letting myself into the house and am immediately filled with relief to find that Paul has already left for the day. The familiar silence of his townhouse greets me, and I take a deep breath, trying to center myself and focus on my work for the day.

I hang my jacket in the entryway closet and toss my purse on the granite kitchen island. I immediately get to work sweeping the rooms, dusting shelves, doing the laundry, cooking, and wiping the kitchen counters. Even the cleaning regiment isn’t enough to vanquish the thoughts of Paul with Christy. The way they fit together in a way that made perfect sense—both beautiful, successful, and living in a world I could never truly be a part of.

While changing the sheets in Paul's bedroom, I catch my reflection in the mirror and I pause to look, really look. In my reflection, I see a woman who's gotten so comfortable with watching life pass her by from the sidelines. Bonnie was right after all; I've put my life on hold for so long with the hopes that one day, Paul will see me.

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