Page 9 of Brazen
Waking up in that bed at his penthouse had sent a thrill through me, if I was honest with myself. His entire place was gorgeous, with the foyer, grand room, a separate living room, separate dining room, office, a guest bedroom, master bedroom, and state-of-the-art kitchen that led to the butler’s quarters.
Now that I'd taken a shower in my own bathroom and washed my hair thoroughly, I was able to breathe. I walked around my house. My office had once been my bedroom. If I took a roommate, I would lose the peace of mind, but I would gain some financial cushion until I could afford my own place.
Grandpa had once told me other people came with problems, though, and it was best if we kept to ourselves as much as possible.
He would hate if I brought anyone home. My bedroom had been single most of my life, though I’d entirely redecorated last year so it would feel modern and more like it was completely my place.
I hoped I would find a job fast. I spent hours fixing my resume and calling around to people I knew. The third firm told me I was unemployable, and I cringed.
Charlie’s hands on my body burned through me as a pleasant memory. I ached for more, but I had to go into a war in my mind to stop thinking about him. We made no sense. I was destined for disaster. He was destined for success. Right now, the goal was to survive my current mess.
It might be nice to have his ring on my hand, though. Now that would be a fantasy.
I let out a sigh and decided to go check my mail on the first floor. Answering texts from friends wanting to come over by saying no was getting old. I wasn’t in the mood to replay everything over and over again. I grabbed my cell phone and sneakers and headed downstairs in my sweatpants and T-shirt. I called my best friend. “Britney, how could you leave me there?”
She said, “You’d obviously been sleeping with him. And I hope if I ever fall in bed with a trillionaire who wants to marry me, you put me back in there.”
Heat rose to my face. Britney was the one who talked the big talk, but she was honestly more reserved than she admitted. However, I rolled my eyes as I made it to the bottom level. “You make three times what I made.”
I unlocked my mailbox and slipped out the letters, separating the junk I never read. “I’d cash out if someone like Charlie showed up. We’ve talked about finding guys like him.”
One was from the building. I stopped and looked around. No one was here, so I ripped junk advertising to release my tensions. “I never really… We were just mostly joking.” I stopped and decided this wasn’t the place to answer Britney.
“I wasn’t," Britney said. "Did it end bad? Is that why you’re back at your place instead of that gorgeous bright modern condo of his?”
“No.” I walked back to the second level and unlocked my door. “He made an offer I almost couldn’t refuse.” Then I kicked off my sneakers and read the letter. My heart pounded as I tensed. “Oh no.”
“What’s going on?”
I closed my eyes. Now was not the time. The emergency fund had never been replaced once Grandpa needed all that help at the end.
Unshed tears formed in my eyes. I was about to lose the one thing I had. I let out a sigh. “A special assessment. I’m so fucked right now.”
“What?”
One hundred thousand dollars. No one was going to give me a mortgage right now to afford the infrastructure update and the three months of living somewhere else. I crumpled to the floor. “The building sent a notice. This place is all I have that’s really mine.”
“Okay. So you can go work on your resume or marry a sexy, hot trillionaire who's clearly into you.”
All roads led to the handsome man whose kisses were seared in my brain. I let my head rest on the wall next to the door. “Britney, you met him for sixty seconds. You can’t know what’s in his heart.”
“We all hated Brad.”
Patterson. I cringed. He’d cheated on me, laughed when I caught him, and broken what little faith I had left in men. I froze. “Never say his name.”
“We also hated Ryan, but I thought you had something with Charlie. For once, my cringe reflexes didn't go off after meeting a guy of yours.”
Windell. At my grandfather's funeral, he’d called me a side piece who'd grown too needy. I had no idea why my friends continued to call exes by their first names when discussing the past, but I refused.
Night was high in the sky, and I closed my blinds. “You like his bank account.”
“Brad had a decent bank account, but he was a bad guy. I kept hoping you’d see that before he hurt you.”
This was too much. I deserved the ice cream. I hugged myself. “I love you, Britney. Right now, I have to get off the phone.”
We hung up a few minutes later, but I dragged myself to bed instead of doing anything else. If I had some sleep, maybe I would come up with an answer that didn’t include selling myself and fully becoming what Patterson, Windell, and countless others believed I already was… only good in the bed and nowhere else.
If I sold myself to Charlie, then I ruined every memory of Paris, forever. I rested my eyes as it was dark, but I flipped on the mattress over and over again.
