Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 65939 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 330(@200wpm)___ 264(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65939 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 330(@200wpm)___ 264(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
“And you found a replacement?” he demands.
I don’t bother reminding him that today is Saturday, which means I’m supposed to only be available to him for emergencies. “I found replacements, plural. A new dry-cleaning place, friendlier landscapers, and an aesthetician who says she can wax anything you want and at any time of day.” Except Sunday mornings, but that’s okay because that’s the time Tierre usually sleeps in.
“Keep it up,” Mr. Boss says and hangs up.
Whew. I was afraid Tierre would get wind of the fact that I’m about to have brunch at a restaurant that even he can’t get into willy-nilly.
I still can’t believe I’m going to have brunch here, among all the models and celebs. And billionaires, like Emma’s new boyfriend, Marcus Carelli.
Yeah, that’s a new development, and an unexpected one. I mean, the dude is a Wall Street whizz who’s graced the cover of Forbes more than once—and my cat lady friend is dating him. Not that Emma isn’t gorgeous. Underneath her frumpy clothes, she’s totally hot, with her wild red hair and J. Lo. booty, but she’s barely dated anyone in the past couple of years. And then to score a billionaire?
I’m genuinely impressed, and more than a little jealous.
“Do you have a reservation?” the hostess—who totally did a few photoshoots for us a few months back—demands as I step in.
“Yes. It’s under Carelli.”
Her eyes widen. “Oh. I see. Right this way.” She leads me to a table in the back, and as I walk through the restaurant, I spot two female reality TV stars, a lead from the latest Marvel movie, and the male model who has a restraining order against Tierre.
I’m so excited I might pee my pants.
Almost as soon as I take a seat, Emma walks in with her billionaire.
My jaw falls open.
Firstly, Marcus is infinitely more handsome and intimidating in person. I can see why he’s swept Emma off her feet even though she claims he’s not her type. With his dark, boldly masculine features, powerful build, and piercing blue eyes, I’m pretty sure he’s everyone’s type. And would be even if he weren’t a freaking billionaire.
Secondly, and more importantly, Emma has had a makeover! Her worn-out, cat-hair-covered clothes and Walmart shoes are nowhere in sight. Instead, she’s wearing a hipster-cool dress-and-booties combo, and her long, bouncy red curls frame her face in a stylish new manner.
“Ems!” I yell as they approach the table. “Wow, look at your dress! And your hair! What did you do and when?”
And why was I not involved? I’m the friend who’s in fashion, after all, so if—
“Got a haircut at a new place yesterday and did a little shopping,” she says, beaming at me. “You like?”
“I love it!” And I do. I love the new look, and I love the way she looks next to her very rich, very male accessory.
I give my bestie a hug, then turn to Marcus. “Doesn’t she look absolutely stunning?”
His gaze travels hungrily over Emma. “Yes. Always.”
Oh, wow. I barely resist the urge to fan myself. The two of them in real life is what porn would look like if it were made by Hallmark. The chemistry is palpable. His eyes say that he’d gladly fuck her right here and now, and it would be a no-holds-barred fuck.
Do I sound pervy? I think I do. It must be my viciously long dry spell talking.
Clearing my throat, I thrust out my hand at Emma’s boyfriend. “Kendall Bryce. I don’t think we’ve ever formally introduced ourselves.”
“Marcus Carelli,” he replies. “It’s nice to formally meet you, Kendall.”
“Marcus’s friend, Ashton, is joining us for lunch,” Emma tells me as we sit down and the waiter brings a pitcher of water for the table. “I told Marcus you wouldn’t mind.”
A friend? Another billionaire, hopefully. “Of course not. The more, the merrier.” I wait until Marcus looks down at the menu, then catch Emma’s gaze and pantomime swooning.
Emma’s lips twitch like she’s about to laugh, but then she looks at her boyfriend and I suddenly feel like a third wheel.
“So, Marcus,” I say when he raises his eyes from the menu. “Emma told me the two of you are doing a trial run of living together. How is that going so far? Are you surviving the feline invasion?”
He grins. “For the most part. I did wake up the other morning with a furry butt on my face, but Emma assured me that the cats clean themselves thoroughly—and that Mr. Puffs didn’t sneak into the bedroom and try to smother me on purpose.”
“Oh, no,” I say with a laugh. “I’d be careful if I were you. The things I’ve heard about that cat…”
“All true,” Marcus says. “He may indeed be of demonic origin. Luckily, his siblings are quite harmless, and I largely get along with them.”
“He’s being modest,” Emma says, laying a hand on his sleeve. “Cottonball has fallen head over heels in love with him. He follows Marcus around like a puppy.”