Page 42 of Mexico Can Choke On It
“No one’s asking you to.”
“Oh, yeah? Don’t think I don’t see thePretty Womanrebrand happening.”
He winces, then opens his mouth to speak, but I’m on a roll. “This is how it starts. First you stuff me into a blazer dress, and next thing I know, I’m married to some real estate developer named Doug, saying crap like ‘We simply adore summering in Saint-Tropez.’”
He wants me to look the part.Translation: He’s embarrassed by the real me. Themewith tattoos and opinions.
“Pip, I’m asking for less friction. A few pieces. Things that’ll make the week easier. Do it for Gavin.”
“You rich boys are all alike. Why you want to marry the same blonde cheerleader is beyond me.” The words tumble out before common sense kicks in. “It’s okay to go against the grain sometimes, ya know. Try the rebel, not the debutante. The dark side’s got cookies and orgasms that don’t require access to your bank account.”
Bryce’s eyebrows shoot up so fast, I’m surprised they don’t fly off his forehead.
Shit.The words hang there, sharp and stupid.Nice one, Petra. Great start to the trip. You lasted a whole twenty minutes before hitting on the hot engaged billionaire.
I clear my throat, shifting gears. “What aboutyourclothes? When’s the last time you went on an actual vacation?”
“I travel constantly.”
“Business trips don’t count. I’m talking tequila with your morning coffee, sand stuck between your toes, and swimwear that’s a little too revealing.” I lean forward, narrowing my eyes. “I bet you’ve never even worn flip-flops.”
“I own appropriate footwear for every occasion.”
“Here’s my counteroffer. I’ll go in there, let the fashion critics pick apart my second-hand wardrobe and resting bitch face. I’ll even ooh and ahh, pretending I know which overpriced designer made the clothes. But only if webothget vacation wear.”
His expression suggests I just proposed he do a striptease while riding a unicycle on the beach.
“I’m talking sunglasses, butt-ugly Hawaiian shirts, and at least one pair of shorts. If I have to pretend to be someone else for a week, thenyouhave to take a vacation from being a buttoned-up CEO.“ I cock an eyebrow. “You said it. IfIhave to,youhave to.”
“You’re going to make me regret this trip, aren’t you?” he asks, but there’s a strange light in his eyes—a flicker of anticipation, maybe?
“Oh, hell yes, Moneybags. Now, let’s go see those pretty ankles.”
The moment we step through the threshold, I’m assaulted by sheer… emptiness. This place isn’t a store; it’s a temple of minimalism. The marble floors are polished to perfection, reflecting all my shortcomings. And those velvet chairs? Art pieces, not meant for actual human asses.
Most disturbing? There areno clothes.None. Not a single rack or hanger.
“What the hell is this place?”
As if summoned, a man materializes before us like Dracula’s fashion-forward twin rising from a velvet coffin. Tall, rail-thin, dressedin funeral-black from neck to toe, tiny round glasses perched on his beaked nose. In one hand, he holds an iPad. In the other, a microscopic espresso.
When his eyes lock on me, he physically recoils.Ah yes. The Beverly Hills Welcome.
“Absolutely. Not,” he says, voice dripping in condescension. “We do not accept foot traffic, walk-ins, and certainly not—” his glare performs a scathing inventory of my entire existence “—whateverthisis.”
“Take a breath, Mugatu,” I fire back. “I’m not here voluntarily. I’m being forced to dress like a society-lady robot so I don’t embarrass the billionaire elite.” I hook a thumb toward Bryce.
The man’s entire demeanor transforms. “Mr. Sterling! It’s been too long! Too tragic!” He swoops closer, air-kissing in Bryce’s general direction.
“Sebastian.” Bryce nods with that infuriating rich-person calm. “Good to see you again. We need a complete vacation wardrobe. For my… um… for Miss Brinkman.
“Mistress,” I supply helpfully. “He meant mistress.”
“Ah. That explains the confidence,” Sebastian says.
“Petra.” Bryce’s voice has that scolding edge that makes me go all gooey.
“What? It’s classier than ‘hooker,’ which is clearly what Fashion Frankenstein thought.”
