Page 60 of Billionaire Romance

7

Sally

Well, that went well.

Even my brain is sarcastic about it. There’s no way that could be considered ‘going well’ in any universe. Even having Iris put in a good word for me didn’t save me there. I just…completely bombed. It’s not like being a personal shopper was my dream job or anything, but I need a job. I can’t exactly survive without one, and the money that Mr. Ferguson reluctantly paid me is barely enough to cover my bills for the month.

I kind of want to buy a pint of ice cream, go home and sit in my bed and watch re-runs of bad sitcoms for a while. But I can’t because I’m meeting Eric at Aurelia’s. Aurelia’s. I think my jaw dropped when he sent me that, and after that, I was straight blushing because he said I might look good out of the clothes.

Some people might think that’s a bit forward for flirting, but I can see the way he would say it if he were standing in front of me, that little sexy smirk and a wink. Besides, he’s already touched me and made me come. Basically indicated that he wanted to take my virginity. Given that, it’s okay that he’s a little forward.

But that doesn’t stop the flames that heat my cheeks when I read that text or the way my body heats, remembering the pleasure he gave me. When I woke up this morning it all felt like a dream. There’s no way that that actually happened, right? But it did.

I waited for the other shoe to drop, for him to tell me that he didn’t need a date to the party anyway or just ghost me without ever hearing from him again. But when his text came through this morning, I almost fell over. I knew that I was going to be swimming in new waters going on a date with a millionaire, possibly billionaire, but I’m completely out at sea. What do I do here?

And more importantly, what do I tell Iris? Because she’s standing in front of the café waving at me and she’s going to want every little detail. Shit. But then again, Iris might have some good advice for a virgin like me. And I know she’ll pester me until I tell her.

“How’d it go?” she asks as I walk up.

I make a face. “Not well. She didn’t seem to like any of the answers I gave her about personal style or fashion, and it only got worse once she started asking me what designers I like to have in my own wardrobe. I just got tongue-tied and sounded like an idiot. I was only in there for fifteen minutes when she thanked me for coming in.”

Iris grimaces as she loops her arm in mine and walks me into the café. “Sorry. That doesn’t sound great. But you’ll find something soon. You’re talented and brilliant and—”

“And qualified for nothing,” I remind her.

“Don’t be silly. You’ve got a degree. You’re qualified. You just haven’t found what you love to do yet.”

We sit at a table near the window and I close my eyes, letting the spring sun fall on my face. “Yeah. Who knows.” When I open my eyes she’s staring at me. “What?”

“Are you really going to make me ask how it went last night?”

I bite my lip. “No. I mean, I assumed you were going to ask, I just thought we might get the food first so that we’re not interrupted.”

“Okay,” she gives me a look. “We can do that. But if you don’t want to be interrupted, that means something happened."

“Not necessarily,” I say, lowering my voice. “Maybe I just don’t want anyone having the chance to eavesdrop about the fact that I went on a date with a very rich, very famous, very fucking attractive person last night.”

“Let’s be honest,” Iris says, looking at her menu. “Fucking attractive doesn’t even cover it. I think what you’re referring to is ‘One look could shred the panties off a hundred women’ hot.”

I’m still laughing when the waitress takes our order. I only get a salad. After this, I’m going to have to try on ball gowns, and there’s no chance in hell I want a food baby when I’m trying on what are going to be very expensive dresses. Iris doesn’t even know about that yet.

“Okay,” she says, “we’ve ordered. For the love of God just tell me what happened.”

I blush, because I don’t know how I’m actually going to say this out loud. But I do. I narrate from getting followed into the club to talking and to dancing and kissing and…everything after that, and Iris is looking at me like I’m an alien with three heads.

“Holy shit, Sally!”

“Shhhh,” I say, looking around, concerned that someone might have heard me. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Um, excuse me, this is a huge deal. How long have you been waiting for something like this and now it happens with Eric fucking Marshall?” She whispers his name. “This is huge. And good for you girl, it’s about time you got some.”

I laugh, and then clam up as the waitress puts my salad in front of me. “And he’s taking to me Aurelia’s to shop for the party.”

Iris puts down her fork. “What?” I tried to throw it out there like it wasn’t a big deal, but in Iris’s world, this is like being invited to the Oscars. “Really?”

“At noon. Hence the salad.”

“This is absolutely insane.”

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