Page 43 of Flirting with My Billionaire Enemy

“Did you call the doctor?” Mom asks.

“He’s on his way right now.”

“Why don’t you wait until he shows up and then you can ask him what to do?”

“He said I can take some Benadryl when we called him,” Ariana says.

“He did?” I ask.

“Yes, didn’t you hear him?”

I run a hand through my hair. “I guess I was so worried I missed that part.”

Mom gives me a knowing smile, and I can tell she’s up to no good. “It’s sweet that you care so much about yourcoworker.”

I don’t like the way she’s emphasizing that word. But it’s true, isn’t it? I care a lot about Ariana, and it’s taken her having an allergic reaction to that stinker of a kitten for me to realize how deeply I feel about her. I can’t lose her.

We get some Benadryl in Ariana, and I’m hovering over her like a helicopter parent.

“Kaison, I promise I’m fine.”

Dr. Bradley shows up a few minutes later and checks out her hand. He’s an older doctor with a bald head and a belly that hangs over his belt, probably from eating too many of his wife’s frosted sugar cookies. She always sends some over during the holidays. “Have you washed this with soap and water?”

“Yes, I did right before I took the medicine.”

“For future reference, it would have been better if you’d done it right after the incident occurred, but you should be fine.”

“Can she get the allergy shot now so she doesn’t have this happen again?” I ask.

“Unfortunately, no. The shot has a tiny amount of the allergen, so you wouldn’t want to introduce more of it. That’s more of a long-term thing. Your best bet is to steer clear of the cats and take Benadryl as needed. Are you planning to stay here for much longer?” he asks.

She looks over at me.

“A few days longer,” I say.

“You should be fine. Just take precautions and don’t allow the cats near your bedding.”

“Could this have been fatal?” I ask.

“It could be if she has a history of asthma, but most cat allergies aren’t the same as a peanut allergy or something.”

“I don’t have asthma,” she says, shaking her head.

Dr. Bradley finishes up with us and just as he’s leaving, a familiar car pulls up, something I haven’t seen in years. It’s a red Mercedes Cabriolet with a license plate that says2CUTE4U.

The driver’s side car door opens, and a blonde head appears, the nearly white hair pulled back into a high, sleek ponytail that drapes down her shoulder and hangs to her waist. She pulls off a pair of designer sunglasses that likely cost as much as an economy car and parts her lips. They look different from the last time I’ve seen her. More plump or something, like she’s gotten lip injections. And her eyelashes look like one of those filters you see on social media. Ridiculously long and thick. Nothing like the natural lashes she had back when we were in college.

“Kaison, it’s good to see you again, babe.”

Ariana clamps her mouth shut and keeps her face in an emotionless mask. But beneath that mask, I can sense a fury bottled up that’s beginning to simmer.

Blair saunters up to the front door. “Well, aren’t you going to invite me in?” She holds her keys out for Ariana to take, like she’s one of the household staff members or a personal assistant and she wants her to go valet park her car.

Ariana doesn’t take her keys. She crosses her arms instead. “Sorry, sweetheart. Not in my job description.”

“Oh, my mistake.” But she doesn’t look sorry at all, and I suspect that she’s perfectly aware that Ariana’s relationship to me is a bit more than that of a household staff member. Otherwise, Ariana wouldn’t have asked me who she was, and Blair was close enough to have heard the exchange.

Ariana keeps her tone cool. “Don’t worry about it.”

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