Page 40 of Mexico Can Choke On It
I give a lazy shrug. “It’s notthatbad around here.”
Bryce glances behind him toward the street—and right on cue, some dude is spray-painting a glorious pink penis across the wall of the laundromat.
“Ohhh, so when rich snobs do it, it’sperformance art.But when it’s poor people, suddenly it’sgraffiti? That guy’s the next Banksy. You should buy that wall before it appreciates.”
For a second, I think he might chuckle, but he stays glued to his usual stoic expression.
“This is nice and all, B, but—”
“Hold on. I’m still attempting to bribe you.”
He turns and reaches once more, carefully lifting something bulky wrapped in bubble wrap. With reverent hands, he unwraps it to reveal…
My record player.
Not a new one.Myrecord player.
I whip my head around to check, and sure enough, the spot where it usually sits is empty.
“I had it repaired. Apparently broken belt drives are common in these models.”
“You stole my record player?”
“Borrowed. Can I come in and return it to its rightful place?”
“Be my guest. How did you get it fixed so fast?” I watch him kneel on my stained carpet and set the player carefully back on the milk crate. “That model is ancient. Parts are impossible to find.”
He shoots me a look over his shoulder, and God help me, the sight of Bryce Sterling on his knees in my apartment does dangerous things to my self-control.
“Billionaire, remember?”
Is this some misplaced big brother syndrome?Like he’s channeling Gavin’s overprotective energy because my actual brother is too busy being engaged to the princess of darkness? It’s clear that seeing where I live has triggered his white knight complex. Now he feels sorry for poor little Pip.
“Why go to all this trouble? What’s in this for you?”
My question catches him off guard. As he stands, his finger starts tapping against his thigh—tap, tap, tap.
What is he not telling me?
“I had another conversation with Gavin this morning. This abrupt change in plans is causing him a great deal of stress.”
He pauses, his eyes dropping to the floor for a split second before meeting mine again. “And unfortunately, Amanda is unable to attend. I’d… prefer not to go alone. Engaging in small talk with strangers at these events is something I find quite dreadful.”
Something flutters in my chest like a trapped butterfly. Bryce wants me there. Not for Gavin. For him.
“Whoa, whoa. You don’t want to go either? New plan: We both ditch the shindig.”
A dangerous thought creeps into my head.What if I did go with him?Eight days of Bryce all to myself. One last time to be near him. Living the fantasy that he’s mine, if only for a while.
Yeah, that’s pure crackhead logic, Petra. Let’s not veer into “accidental trophy wife” territory.
“Suppose, hypothetically, I said yes. Am I required to participate in all the luxury torture? As in… snail mucus facials with Fiona and 24-karat gold colonics?”
“If I have to, you have to,” Bryce says without blinking.
“So we’re a package deal of mutual misery?”
“Yes.”
