Chapter 16
SAVANNAH
The aroma of linseed oil mixed with an earthy undertone fills my nose, just like it has been for the last few hours.
Blake texted me this morning and asked me to be her body double for the day. When she’s under a time crunch and needs to finish a project, I hang out with her in her studio located in SoHo while she works. I usually lie on the chaise lounge and read, situated next to the ceiling-high windows.
Setting my book on my chest, I rise up on my elbows and ask, “What are you working on again?”
Blake answers in a flat tone as she focuses on the canvas in front of her. “This is a commission for some rich dude who likes horses.” She pauses, tilting her head to the side and casting her eyes upward. “He lives somewhere out west, I think. I don’t know. The requests go through my agent.”
I flop back down on the chaise lounge and attempt for the millionth time to get lost in the words of Lo Gold, but there’s too much on my mind to concentrate on the story. Sighing, I give up and close the book, placing it in my purse.
“I smell guy troubles,” Blake says to me without breaking her eye contact with the equine figure she’s creating.
As I fake glare in her direction, I huff. “I’ll try not to take offense to that.”
“Am I wrong?”
“No,” I grumble as I cross my arms over my face.
I hear Blake move around, then walk over to me as I wallow. She grabs my hands, uncovering my face, and pulls me up to a sitting position. Moving my legs, I make room for her, and she takes my offered seat.
She reaches and grabs something from the floor. Sitting up, she hands me a personal-sized plastic bottle of chocolate milk.
“It would be better if I had tea, but I don’t, so this will have to do.” Blake opens her drink, then touches her bottle to mine. “Tell me everything.”
Starting from sex at Onyx and ending with my post-coital mental breakdown, I lay it all out for Blake, avoiding direct eye contact. If I look at her face for too long, I’ll assume I know what she’s thinking.
Which is unrealistic and ridiculous, but I can’t help myself.
But I can’t help myself. So, no eye contact is the way to go, especially since I want to give her the whole story so she can form a fully informed opinion.
When I’m finally done, I take a gulp of my chocolate milk and fiddle with the cap.
“So…” I trail off. “That’s it, I guess.” My eyes wander to Blake and find her gaping at me.
“Hold the phone for one fucking minute, ma’am!”
“What?”
“You can’t just drop all that and expect me not to be shocked. When you left with Rory last night, I figured I knew what y’all were doing, but for it to be confirmed…Ah!” Blake grabs my bottle and sets mine and hers on the floor. Then she wraps her arms around me.
“This isn’t what I was expecting.”
“Was I supposed to throw some holy water on you and pray for your virgin-less soul?”
“Well…”
“There’s nothing to be ashamed of here, honey. Sex is one of the most natural acts on earth. You chose it and you enjoyed it. Of course, I’m happy for you!” Blake jumps to her feet. “This calls for ice cream!” She scurries over to her mini fridge and freezer, where she keeps all the goodies.
My shoulders relax as Blake digs around for a couple of spoons in a cabinet.
I don’t know why I thought she’d scream and call for a priest. This is Blake, my number one supporter. She knows how hard I’ve worked to undo a lot of the hateful beliefs my father instilled in me.
Blake returns with a pint of Chunky Monkey ice cream, handing me a spoon. “Let me be perfectly clear. We aren’t celebrating the fact that you’re not a virgin anymore. We’re celebrating what it represents. Healing.”
Tears well up in my eyes, but I blink them away. “You’re the best.” Now I’m the one who initiates the hug, and Blake embraces me back.
“You’re struggling with something else,” Blake concludes.
My head tilts at an angle. “How do you always know?”
Blake gives me a smug smile. “It’s a gift. I just sense these things.”
Massaging one temple with my free hand, I confess, “I don’t know how to choose between them. There are three of them and one of me.”
“So?” Blake’s lips pull to one side.
Scratching at my head, I half-tease, “I know you hate math, but this math isn’t that hard.”
Blake rolls her eyes. “What I mean is maybe you don’t have to choose.”
I rear my head back. “Are you suggesting I cheat? They’re friends. That secret wouldn’t last one second.”
“No,” Blake shakes her head. “I’m talking about a group thing.”
“How would that work?”
“That’s something you’ll have to talk about with them.”
“And what if they aren’t open to that?”
“Then you choose one of them or none.”
“I don’t know.” A heavy exhale escapes my lungs.
“Think it over with my two main men—Ben and Jerry.” Blake holds up the ice cream, and we dig in. Around a mouthful, Blake says, “As a refresher, what’s our motto?”
I squint, recalling the various tenets we live by. “Food you don’t have to make yourself always tastes better.”
Blake rolls her eyes. “The other motto.”
I scoff. “Trust but verify with a Google search and a background check.”
Blake gives me a single nod. “Good. Now, have you done the research?”
“Umm…” I give her a half smile.
“Oh my God! Have I taught you nothing?” She sets down the ice cream in her lap and waves her hands around erratically. “Always, always do your research.”
“I’m not a super sleuth.” My hands lift in a helpless shrug.
“Phone,” she demands with her hand palm up.
Fishing my phone from my purse, I cough it up.
“Alright. Names,” Blake requests as she taps away at the screen.
“Rory, Luke, and Hunter.”
Blake looks at me unamused. “First and last names.”
“I only know Hunter’s last name is Reed,” I confess.
Blake freezes as her hands drop into her lap. “As in Nate Reed?”
“Possibly.” My lips pinch.
“You’ve been holding out on me. You’re dating your ex’s dad and his friends? Fucking get it, girl!” Blake lovingly shoves my shoulder. “Okay, back to sleuthing.”
Rattling off the details I’ve picked up on, I fidget with my hands in my lap. “I know that they have money. Rory owns Onyx, but they have a different business that they all own together.”
Blake gasps. “Holy shit.”
“What?” I bob my head forward.
“Triple shit.” Blake curses again.
“What is it?” I try to lean forward and to the side to get a look at the phone screen, but Blake brings it closer to her face.
“They’re hot!” She exclaims, then looks at me with a smirk. “I didn’t know you were into older men. I saw Rory last night, but I didn’t know the other two were silver foxes as well.”
“Didn’t exactly know that about myself either,” I mumble.
“There’s an article. ‘Rory Bishop, Hunter Reed, and Luke Ellis make an appearance at the annual Rose and Gold Gala.’ It looks like a black-tie event put on by some old-money family to raise money for pediatric cancer research.”
“They support charity. Green flag.” I pretend to wave a little flag in my hand.
She cocks her head to the side. “It says here that they’re the founders of RHL Solutions, which we already know.”
“Yes.”
She taps at the screen again. “It’s a security company specializing in physical, cyber and information, and technology.” Blake lowers the screen to ask, “Did we know all of that?”
“We didn’t know the physical security part,” I state.
Blake resumes reading, then sucks in a sharp breath. “Fuck a duck. Oh my God.”
“What is it now?” I groan.
She blinks at the screen with arched brows. “They’re not just rich. They’re richer than rich.”
My brows scrunch together. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
“Each one of them is worth billions. Billions.” She raises her voice, emphasizing the last word heavily.
A wave of inadequacy makes my stomach twist in knots. I knew they had money, but I didn’t realize it was that much.
My phone vibrates, and Blake hands it over to me. “Oh. You got a text from Mocha Lisa.”
I read the message and groan. “Someone can’t make it in, and the owner is asking me to cover the shift.” Gathering my things in my arms, I slide my jacket on and stand. “I have to go.”
We give each other a hug, and I head for the subway.
The pinch in my chest grows until it forms into a full-on ache, making it hard to breathe. I’m being ridiculous. It’s clear Hunter, Rory, and Luke don’t care about appearances. They know I’m not sitting on a pile of cash. I’m a barista, for God’s sake.
But I’m having a hard time ignoring the little voice telling me that I’m not enough.