Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
Avril
My eyes fluttered open, and I stared up at the twelve-foot-high ceiling that had a light fixture that looked like a small chandelier. And my sheets were butter soft. I half refused to ever leave the bed. I hugged the pillows and heard my phone alarm.
Damn. I wished this was a real vacation with no schedule, but I turned it off.
I had a month to get my life together, and lounging would make me go nowhere fast. I cleaned myself up in the bathroom, and my stomach growled, so I put on the sleep pants and T-shirt Kir had lent me and scrounged around for the coffee maker.
The walls were textured white, and the art had a lot of stars.
I found the kind of master chef kitchen I’d only ever seen in movies.
I smiled as my eyes landed on a machine that looked like it produced frothy cappuccinos.
I gazed at the metal and realized fast I had no idea how it worked.
This wasn’t a pour-water-in-and-let-the-coffee-dribble-out kind of coffee maker.
Then a man in a chef’s hat stepped into the room and directed me to leave.
I ran out and found Kir sitting at the dining table with a coffee. I took the seat beside him. “Good morning.”
“Morning.” He grabbed an iPad that was charging in the wall next to the buffet.
He opened it and retook the seat as I asked, “What’s going on?”
“You don’t want to know.”
“Don’t sugarcoat anything with me. I hate being softened up. It always feels like a lie.”
He sighed and slipped the tablet into my hands. “The blog that published a piece about Charlie and Warren wrote one about you.”
“Me?”
I read the story, which was about a trillionaire falling into the clutches of a bad girl. My teenage years looked bad. I’d forgotten about getting videotaped throwing up. Now I was a meme. Adrenaline rushed through me as I read my story. It sounded like someone else.
I finished and said, “Oh, goodness.” The chef brought me a cappuccino, and I sighed.
Kir folded his hands on the table. “Do you have a tattoo on your ass?”
I grabbed a plate and served myself a fried egg. “Let’s discuss how to handle this.”
He stood beside me and served himself too. “Are you avoiding the question?”
I glanced back at the tablet and then smiled at him. “It’s really a blurry photo of me on the beach from years ago.”
We both took some hash browns. “We’re supposed to be dating.”
I returned to my seat. This was more than I usually ate. I stared at my plate. “Well, if your mother believes I’m here for your money, as this says, then no one’s going to believe us.”
The chef brought him a second coffee. I gulped mine and pointed at my cup. He nodded. I needed to get his name if I was staying there.
Once we were alone, Kir said, “Speaking of Maman, she wants to meet you for lunch. I told her you had work.”
“I do.” I had meetings all day and wasn’t sure I’d even get time for a sandwich. “Can you tell her we’ll have lunch tomorrow?”
We picked up our forks, and he said, “I’ll try. But finish breakfast, and I’ll drive you to work.”
This was the real thing. People at work were going to know I was dating a trillionaire. I nodded and ate.
The chef brought the second coffee. I couldn’t ask his name, as my mouth was full. Once we finished, I gazed out at the morning view of the park, which was like a green jewel between the buildings. “Your view is amazing.”
“I think so.”
I gazed to my side and saw that Kir was staring at me. “You’re not looking.”
He shrugged. “I’m still wondering about the tattoo.”
I settled beside him again. “Fine. It’s two feathers to represent my parents, and it’s not on my ass.”
His gaze literally had a twinkle in it as he asked, “Where is it, then?”
“Lower back.” I stood and lifted my T-shirt. At work, I wore button-downs so no one could see my tattoo. My face heated. I dropped my shirt and sat down.
He smiled like we shared a huge secret. “Why feathers?”
I shrugged and sipped my coffee. I’d never explained this before. I whispered, “I like to think they’re my angels and watching my back. I didn’t want it where people might see if I wore a low-cut top.”
He stirred his coffee. “That’s sweet, and you’re right that you’re edgier than me.”
I was much closer to work, and since the commute was shorter, I had time. And I liked sitting with Kir. I settled into my seat. “What was that thing with your brothers about ‘challenge to live your life’?”
He shrugged. “Everyone thinks I’m… either all about work or risking my neck to feel alive.”
I raised an eyebrow. That wasn’t my impression at all. “Did you ever do anything more low-key to relax?”
“I walked on the beach with you. That was… nice.”
I nodded. Kir was a sweetheart. “Did you ever want to slow down?”
“Not really. Do you ever want to do anything that gets your heart thumping?”
I thought he was strong, smart, and capable and shouldn’t need adrenaline rushes. “Jet skiing and water tubing are on my dream list, but that’s probably as far as I go with sports adventures.”
His lips curved higher. “Well, if sports are reckless, then I’m the edgiest guy you’ll ever meet.”
Good—he was happier. I finished my coffee. “There you go. We’ll keep our sports mild.” I imagined him mentioning the bed. I shook my head and rushed to add a mundane question. “Do you have any sports injuries?”
He showed me his arm slash. “This is from hockey.”
“That must have hurt.”
He then showed me his calf and two scars. “This is from running with the bulls in Spain.”
Horns. Damn. I brushed his leg. “How close were you?”
He lowered his leg, and I sat back up. Then he took off his shirt and showed me his rib cage. “Near the front. And this is from a shark bite I told you about in South Africa.”
And his mother probably wanted to kill him. My heart sped up. “Oh my God. You lied to me.”
He lowered his shirt. “What do you mean?”
I met his gaze. “You said you weren’t hurt at all and were perfectly safe in that dive tank.”
“You seemed worried enough without seeing this.”
I stood. “Try not to kill yourself while I change into yesterday’s clothes.”
At work, it was going to be clear I hadn’t gone home. I returned to my room and opened the closet where I’d hung my clothes. While we were eating, more suits had arrived, and they were Valentino and Prada. I sighed and slipped on a black Valentino power suit that was softer than my no-name brands.
In boxes at the bottom, I found new Jimmy Choos. These gifts were unexpected and awesome. As I came out, I felt like a million dollars. I strutted down the hall like I belonged there. Kir was dressed in navy blue pants that hugged his sexy backside.
I shook my head, trying not to look. “Are you ready?” I touched my soft black skirt. “Did you spring for a new outfit?”
He winked at me. “My girlfriend will only be couture.”
He offered his arm, and I patted his muscle under the white shirt. “Thank your ex for me.”
He held the door for me and asked, “Why?”
I smiled. “She clearly let go of one of the best.”
Neither of us said anything as we left his condo building. The staff stood at attention when we passed. The limo driver said hello, and we did the same. As we slipped into the car, my phone beeped.
Kir asked, “Did your sister just call?”
I read the message. “Texted. She can’t talk. She has her first treatment today.” I wrote, Good luck .
Kir said, “Tell her I’m rooting for her,” so I added that.
She sent a heart emoji.
I tucked my phone back in my new Bvlgari handbag. “She knows. I’m ready now.”
The driver took off, and Kir placed his hand on mine. “So, you’re okay with the blog?”
The lies about me destroying Kir’s life were so over the top that they seemed like they were about someone else entirely.
I shrugged. “Why would it bother me? Hope told me about how some blogger was against your family. I just didn’t expect my high school binge drinking to ever be publicized. That’s not me anymore.”
We stopped, and the driver opened the door. Kir slid out, and I followed. Then he kissed my cheek. “Good. Have a good day inside.”
“You’re sweet.” I cupped his face. Then I kissed his cheek as well. His warm skin sent a zip through me, and my hairs stood on end. I wanted to know what he would taste like.
My mind floated as I went up the elevator and to my office. As I started the computer, Lauglin knocked on the door and asked, “Was that Kir Norouzi with you?”
My heart fluttered. “Yeah. He dropped me to work today.”
He nodded. “Ziff wants you in his office, now.”
I stood and met his gaze. “I’ll be right there.”
I kept my head high and headed to the corner office. Ziff waved for me to sit and then folded his hands across the desk. I froze and wondered if this had to do with my promotion.
Then he said, “Management is having a cocktail hour this evening.”
I blinked. I wasn’t management, but I smiled and said, “Sounds fun.”
“Bring your boyfriend as a plus-one.”
I tilted my head. “Is that part of the interview?”
“They do need to see you’ll fit in socially.”
His eyes weren’t even moving. My blood went cold. “I’ll text Kir and see the schedule. But I can’t make promises on this short notice.”
“Make this happen, kid.”
At twenty-six, I was far from being a kid. However, I never argued. I stood up because it was clear the meeting was over. “I understand. I’ll do my best.”
I sidestepped my way out the door. Something felt like it was happening, but I wasn’t sure what. Either way, Kir and I were fake dating for this job, and I hoped it was fine.