40. Jenny
JENNY
I wondered how Cole had managed to buy the Windsor’s condo and get the mean sisters out of the building so quickly. I couldn’t comprehend that he’d also had it painted and refurnished over the course of one weekend. But like he’d said, money couldn’t buy happiness, but it could buy a lot of other shit.
Amari brought me to the unit, showed me the key code, and brought my luggage inside. The space was stunning, of course. Fifty Liberty was the most exclusive address in Boston, and it was for a reason.
“Thanks, Amari.” I handed him a ten-dollar bill, the only cash I had.
He waved it off. “Mr. Bryson takes care of me—you never need to tip.”
I nodded. “Thank you.” I wanted to ask him how Cole had been since I’d left, but I didn’t dare.
“It’s my pleasure. It’s nice to have you back, Ms. Jenny.” Amari smiled warmly and left me alone.
I paced the gorgeous apartment, which had a pristine view of the harbor like Cole’s. The floor-to-ceiling windows bathed the open-concept space in bright sunlight. The new furniture was terrific: all-white couches, colorful pillows, and richly textured, bright modern art on the walls. I loved it. The vibe was fresh, immaculate, and rich AF.
But I couldn’t think about the beautiful apartment. All I could think about was Cole.
He’d been so cold on the ride to Fifty Liberty. Not that I blamed him—I’d barely said a word during the fifteen-minute drive. I wanted to set the tone for the next round of our arrangement. I was in love with him, but it wasn’t safe for either of us. So I needed him to know that the woman he’d known before, the one with the honking laugh and the easy, sunny smile—she was gone. All that was left was me. His escort. His fake date. His hired plaything.
Speaking of playthings…
Cole had been clear with Elena: he didn’t want me back in his bed. The Madam had given it to me straight. She said that after I countered with my request to have my own space, his lawyers came back with final terms. We had a strictly business arrangement. Cole Bryson had no interest in utilizing the full range of my services. The arrangement was just for show, solely for the benefit of James and Audrey’s wedding. There was no “us” anymore.
But I thought about what Cole had said in the lobby.
“You aren’t coming?” I asked.
“I will be later,” he snapped.
Did that mean he’d be coming coming later? Like, in a sexual way? A little thrill zipped through me, followed by a deep, ugly pain. Sex with Cole was the best sex ever. At least, it had been when we’d been close. But the idea of being physical with him now, when we were estranged, seriously confused me.
On the one hand, I longed to be close to him, to feel his bare skin against mine. I yearned to put my head on his chest and be held by him; I longed for our connection. It was beyond sex. It was this wild, mind/body/spirit sort of thing, like maybe we were two halves of the same whole. Being with him had made me feel complete.
But now, if we had sex now …? It might break me. To be clear, I still wanted him—badly. But to be close to him physically, without feeling close to him emotionally, might do me in.
My phone rang. I lunged for it, hoping it was Cole.
Instead, it was Shirley. “Jenny, thank goodness! I just got back from the cruise—thank you for the flowers—they were beautiful. I was so happy when Mr. Bryson called me and said you were coming back. Phew!”
“Yeah,” I said lamely. “Phew.”
“Is everything okay?” Shirley sounded worried.
“Everything’s fine,” I lied. “We just had a little mix-up, is all.” More lies. I hoped God wasn’t counting.
“Well, you’ll be better after tonight,” she said, sounding upbeat. “Mr. Bryson just had me make reservations atViva Luxe. It’s the fancy restaurant at the top of the Prudential Center. He wants me to buy you a new dress—something super sexy!”
Hope swelled in my chest. “He’s taking me to dinner?”
“Not just any dinner. It’s the most romantic restaurant in Boston. I’ll drop the dress off with Amari later,” Shirley promised. “Take pictures, will you? Mr. Bryson’s keeping me busy with this deal he’s been working on, but I want to see the final product!”
“Will do, Shirley.” I blinked back tears. “It’s really nice of you to look out for me.”
“It’s my pleasure,” she said warmly, and I knew she meant it. “You make Mr. Bryson’s life easy, which makes my life easy. I’m the one that owes you.”
She hung up before I could correct her. I don’t make Bryce’s life easy, I thought. I make it miserable.
Still, I GoogledViva Luxeand saw that it was, in fact, lavish, sumptuously decorated, and had a great view of the city. It had been voted the number one most romantic restaurant in Boston for the past three years. My heart skipped a beat, and a tiny spark of hope ignited in my chest.
Don’t, I warned myself. Don’t do it to yourself.
But it might’ve already been too late.
The dress Shirley picked out was todiefor. It was strapless, white, and hugged my curves like a freakin’ five-star scuba suit. I looked at the price tag—nine thousand, six hundred dollars . Holy shit! It was easy to look like a million bucks when you spent a million bucks!
She’d gotten me some sexy lingerie to go underneath the dress—a white, lacy, strapless bra and a matching scrap of lace passing for a thong. The shoes she’d chosen were also todiefor. Metallic heels that laced over my ankles, sexy and edgy, and oh my God, they cost two thousand dollars.
Shirley said the reservations were for eight p.m. By seven, I’d already finished my makeup and hair. I hadn’t heard from Cole all afternoon, which made me crazy. I checked my reflection, satisfied with what I saw. I lookeddamngood in a nine-thousand-dollar dress and two-thousand-dollar shoes. I fluffed my curls until they were big and sexy, just as Cole liked them.
Even if he hated me, he’d have to admit I looked good.
There was a knock on the door, and I almost tripped as I hastened to open it.
It was Cole. I just stood there for a moment, staring. Being so close to him but not being able to touch him was the strangest sensation in the world.
“Hey, Jenny.” Cole looked devastatingly handsome in a dark suit with a white shirt beneath, open at the throat. His powerful muscles strained under the fabric of his jacket. He wore an enormous platinum watch and matching platinum cufflinks. Why was a man in a well-fitted suit sexy as hell? I had no idea, but it didn’t stop me from ogling Cole.
OMG, I missed him so much.
I longed to throw myself into his big arms; for us to be reunited. It took every ounce of willpower I had to stay where I was. “Hi, Cole. You look nice.”
He nodded but didn’t return the compliment. Instead, he asked stiffly, “Are you ready to go?”
“Uh, sure. Let me get my bag.” I couldn’t help feeling crestfallen that he hadn’t said anything about how I looked. But then again, I had run out on him. Maybe he hated me so much that he didn’t think I was pretty anymore.
Another awkward silence enshrouded us as we rode the elevator to the lobby. From the first moment we’d met, Cole and I had been physical. Leaning on each other, holding hands, kissing—affection had always been easy. It had flowed freely. So it was torture to be beside him but not touch him. His Cole-ness surrounded me in the close proximity of the elevator. I inhaled his familiar scent, which made unwelcome tears spring to my eyes.
He didn’t look at me. He stared straight ahead. He kept his hands in his pockets.
I felt like I might die.
When the elevator doors opened, I turned to him. “Cole.”
He eyed me warily, the muscle in his jaw bulging. “Yes?”
“Why do you want to go to dinner, huh?” My voice was husky—I was already on the verge of tears.
His gaze skipped over me but didn’t linger. “Because I’m hungry,” he said as he strode out of the elevator.
I stood there, reeling, as if he’d slapped me. Instead of feeling sexy and hot, I was sad and cold in my little white dress. I shivered. My two-thousand-dollar shoes sparkled for no reason, mocking me. I felt like maybe I was invisible.
Or that I was already dead, and this was hell.
But I was his hired girlfriend, and Cole had paid dearly for me.
So I followed him, feelings be damned.