CHAPTER SIX
LEXI
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I need a sign, one that says, Get Lost Frog!
Prince, my ass, Mason Kingsley is nothing more than a controlling bullfrog. A toad.
Fine, he’s prettier than a toad, but that’s not the point.
I wasn’t going to leave with Craig, but when Mason started gossiping, everyone began racing around trying to save me from myself.
Those were his words, not mine.
If I didn’t need the job so much, I’d tell him to take a flying leap off the Empire State Building.
Monday is going to suck.
Yes, he’s hot as sin. Yes, I enjoyed the way he pushed me against the wall and fucked me like I was a whore on Friday. Yes, I wish we could do it again.
And again, and again...
Then he ruined it by opening his mouth. Those words can’t be unsaid. Emily found herself a billionaire, don’t go thinking you will too.
Nice.
Really nice, Mason.
What sort of douchebag says that then sabotages the guy you are flirting with, proving you have moved on?
Mason Kingsley, that’s who.
He wasn’t saving me from myself.
I might need saving, but not from horny rich men at a party. I’m quite capable of choosing who I sleep with or saying no thanks.
At what point of him sticking his nice penis inside me did Mason think I became a wallflower?
I need my best friend.
I need to tell her so many things, but when I arrived in NYC, she was heartbroken, then Sebastian proposed, and tonight, Emily announced she’s pregnant.
My problems seem a little pathetic. I mean, losing your job isn’t.
But sleeping with your boss when the universe decides to throw you a bone...that’s dumb.
I never should have done it.
Damn alcohol.
My priorities were clear when my head was. Well, apart from all that flirting. I might have been playing with fire.
Narrator: She absolutely was playing with fire, and she still wanted to.
Sigh.
I need to smooth things out with Mason, stay employed and then once I’ve been there long enough, he will be a great reference.
Then what happened to me in London can stay in the past. Never to be thought about again.
The bastards.
Also, Em is getting married! She’s having a baby. I have to stay in America.
I’m sure if I try hard enough, I can get over this annoying attraction I have for my boss. Going on dates and meeting other men will most definitely help.
And what fun would it be if one or two of them we disgustingly rich so I can flaunt it in front of my frog’s handsome face?
I undress and climb into bed, wondering why Mason felt the need to intervene and stop me leaving with Craig.
An assumption, but irrelevant.
He can’t be jealous.
His dick was still dripping when he told me to not get any ideas. Dripping with both our juices.
Ugh, the memory of his hard, muscular body is still so fresh. How can I be so angry and aroused by the same single memory?
Goddamn him.
Mason Kingsley is no frog, and he knows it.
Still, it was very rude of him to imply I was here to find myself a billionaire husband. In fact, I’m not looking for a husband at all.
I’m happy for Emily. I truly am. But marrying a billionaire is not for the fainthearted. She has personal security and now lives in a penthouse the size of the White House.
That’s probably not true—I’ve never seen the White House—but Sebastian’s home is big and, yes, impressive, but it’s not very warm and inviting.
In my opinion.
The media recently reported their engagement, and people are saying all kinds of things about Emily. She seems to be taking it on the chin. When she gets upset, she’ll call me, and Sebastian’s being supportive.
And protective—as he is all the time when it comes to his soon-to-be wife.
Her life has changed, and while she seems to be going with the flow and maybe even enjoying it, I’m not sure it would be my cup of tea.
She’s had to get a stylist to help with her wardrobe because, and I quote, “New York fashion is important, and you should look the part when attending events with Mr. Remington.”
Gag.
That from his PR manager.
Emily lived in Marks & Spencer clothing for most of her life, with the odd splurge on Zara and Kate Spade, and now has a personal shopper.
“Dude, what the hell?” I said when she told me.
“It’s fine. It’s just clothing. If it’s important to Sebastian, I’m happy to wear the beautiful fancy clothes.”
He was walking through the house. “I prefer you naked. I don’t care.”
She rolled her eyes while I grinned.
“See.”
“Sebastian understands how these things work,” Emily replied.
I glanced up at Sebastian, who was biting into an apple. He shrugged. “Yeah, it’s a thing, but, babe, it’s only for key events.”
“At home I can wear what I like, but the moment I walk out the door or into the Obsidian Nexus Technologies office, the media snapping a photo of me wearing Gap denim cut-off shorts and a band T-shirt is going to create way more trouble than it’s worth.”
I would.
Just to be a rebel.
“Do it and see what happens when you get upstairs to my office.” Sebastian winked at her, then bit into his apple again.
Holy hell.
The chemistry between those two was swoon worthy given they also loved one another. I was envious of that, but not his bank balance. She would have loved him if he was poor too.
I roll over and tuck my hands under my pillow and let out a huff.
What bugs me the most about Mason’s pleasant warning to me is that I’ve done nothing to indicate I’m a gold digger.
My former employer might disagree. Mr. Harrow thinks I’m a thief. I was forced to resign because proving my innocence is as impossible now as it was then.
Fortunately, Mason will never find out about any of that.