Page 120 of Strictly Business

You’re killing me.

Please buy that.

Buy ten more.

Warmth spreads through me as I read his words, my heart racing. I bite back a grin, change back into my clothes, and step out of the fitting room.

“Well?” Jade asks, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. “Is it a winner?”

“It’s a winner,” I say, holding up the black lace.

“Hell yeah. I knew it would be.” Jade nudges Sophie. “And you?”

Sophie exhales, defeated. “Fine. You were right. It’s hot.”

Jade beams as we head to the register. “I’m a genius. You both owe me for the best sex of your lives tonight.”

I let out a laugh, swiping the card Nicholas gave me, to pay for the lingerie.

“God, I’m starving,” Jade groans as we leave the store. “Do you guys want sushi or tacos?”

“Tacos,” Sophie counters. “I’m not in the mood for raw fish.”

“I’m cool with tacos,” I agree, but my attention shifts as my phone buzzes in my bag. Expecting another message from Nicholas, I pull it out, only to see an unknown number on the screen.

“Who is it?” Sophie asks, noticing my pause.

“Uh… no one,” I reply, unlocking the phone.

Jade smirks. “Let me guess. It’s Nicholas. The lingerie killed him, didn’t it?”

I let out a laugh, but my stomach twists as I open the message. It’s an audio file. No name, no explanation—just the file. My gut tightens as I press play and hold the phone to my ear.

“And what about Amara?” I furrow my brows, recognizing Alexander’s voice.

“You think I give a fuck about her?” Nicholas spits, venom dripping from each word. My brows raise as I hear the fury in his voice. “She was just a distraction. Doesn’t mean shit to me. None of it was ever real. Just a dumb fucking arrangement I had to make the best of.”

The recording ends, but the words echo in my mind. My hand trembles as I lower the phone, staring at the screen like it might somehow explain what I just heard.

“Amara?” Sophie’s voice pulls me back to reality. “What was it?”

I shove the phone into my bag, forcing a smile that feels too stiff. “Wrong number,” I lie.

She seems to buy it, her attention shifting as we head to lunch, but my mind stays stuck on the recording. Nicholas’s voice, so cold and detached, echoes in my head, replaying endlessly.

By the time I’m home, I’m drained—physically and emotionally—and teetering on the edge of tears. I sit on the edge of the bed—his bed—staring blankly at the lingerie bag in my hand.

I thought Nicholas was different. I thought I could trust him. But his words keep running through my mind, over and over, until they’re all I can hear.

I mean nothing to him. None of it was ever real.

And I realize, too late, that I was naïve enough to believe otherwise.

Hours pass before Nicholas finally arrives. The elevator doors open, and he steps into the apartment, sending a chill down my spine.

It feels like I’m a stranger in this place, like it’s my first time stepping into this penthouse all over again. It doesn’t feel like home anymore.

“Fucking finally,” Nicholas mutters with a grin, already tugging at his tie. His eyes find mine, and that familiar spark flares to life. My heart stumbles, traitor that it is, his gaze glimmering as he walks toward me.

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