A Bossy Roommate (Next Door to a Billionaire #2)

16. Eden

16

EDEN

SATURDAY MORNING

I don’t get much sleep.

Not because of the call with my sister.

All I can think about is that my boss had subtle fucked me into oblivion.

Lying here alone in my guest bed, I know that from this day on, I will never be able to enjoy cupcakes the same way again, especially vanilla ones with strawberries on top.

I’ve also lost count of how many times I’ve replayed our just-the-tip sex. Disclaimer: In my mind, the just-the-tip sex hadn’t stayed just-the-tip sex. Oh, no. In my mind, after the lawyer had left, I’d opened my door to Carter and invited him into my bed. All damn night, we were all over that bed and all over each other, entangled, glued together, deeply inside of each other.

In my dream, after our hot tip-including-all-the-cock sex, we fell asleep together in my guest bed—my head on his chest, cuddled up against him, feeling him still inside me.

The just-the-tip sex has made me desperate to have real sex with him.

It was a horrible mistake that cannot happen again.

When the alarm goes off at half past six, I pop my head up and push my crazy hair out of my face to find that I had fallen asleep facing the end of the bed.

Carter is nowhere in sight. Not in my bed. Not in my room.

Once I get up, I noticed his is empty too.

Though my dream was excruciatingly vivid, it’s hard not to have a sense of déjà vu, but I quell any lingering anxiety. First off, we didn’t have real sex last night. He didn’t even sleep in my bed. Second, it’s his place, so there’s really no sense in running off if he wants to ditch me. And third, I can smell coffee coming from the kitchen.

The fresh coffee brew is like a magnet.

Humming, I follow the alluring smell down the hallway. Carter is shirtless in only a pair of white workout shorts. By the way his hawk glistens, it isn’t hard to tell that he’s just finished his workout. He sits at the kitchen table, sipping black coffee as he studies his phone. There’s a second steaming mug left out for me, next to a plate of food: French toast with bananas and orange juice.

“Morning,” he greets me as soon as I come closer, without looking up. “Made you something quick. You might want to hurry; we have to head out in a few.”

“What time do we leave to pick her up?” I start to shovel the toast into my mouth. “Mmm. Foooyummy !”

“In about forty minutes.” Carter downs the rest of his coffee and gets up. “I’m going to jump in the shower.”

“I should probably do the same. I imagine I look like hell.”

Carter pats my wild hair, a smile dancing on his lips. “You look thoroughly debauched ,” he grumbles, his voice dropping low as he leans down. I thinks he’s going to give me a kiss, but he nips at my throat instead. Not hard but enough to tease a moan out of me before he walks away like nothing happened. It’s cute, and sexy.

I’d be lying if I said there wasn’t an extra pep in my step.

One shower later, in our separate bathrooms, of course (and me singing my all-time favorite, “Empire State of Mind” by Jay-Z and Alicia Keys, followed by “Fly Me to the Moon” by Frank Sinatra), we move my things into his bedroom, say hi to the over-punctual maid, tell her to start with the guest suite first, and head out the door.

“All right, I’m getting a little nervous,” I admit as Carter pulls into traffic.

“Don’t be. She’s very frail right now,” he explains. “It might take her a little while to get around so just be patient.”

“Of course. Did she tell you what she has?”

“No, not specifically. I don’t think it’s one thing, I think it’s a combination. Which is not surprising since she’s sixty-six.”

“Actually, it is a little surprising, isn’t it? Sixty-six isn’t that old.”

“That’s what I keep telling myself.”

“I think it’s very sweet that she wanted to come for a visit,” I say. “The fact that she’s still so active and willing to travel is a good sign. It also shows how much she loves you.”

“She’s my special lady.”

I’ve never heard Carter sound so soft and sincere. It makes my heart melt that this tough-as-nails, no-nonsense man has a soft side for his elderly aunt. I can’t wait to meet her. Between what he’s told me about her and the fact that she’s good friends with Hattie, she has to be an amazing lady.

We pull up outside the airport with a few minutes to spare. “Wait here.” Carter puts the car in park. “I’m going to go in and meet her.”

“Okay. But wouldn’t it be better if I came with you?”

“No, let’s not overwhelm her.”

Just as he steps out of the car, the airport doors open, and a tiny old woman steps out. I instantly know she’s his aunt because she’s the epitome of class and glamour. I’ve never seen someone so glam and eye-catching in my life.

Eleanor Toussaint doesn’t just catch my eye, she catches everyone’s eye. She wears a tailored pantsuit that’s a deep purple and accented by the elegant fluffy coat with fur draped around her shoulders. Carter had given me a heads up that she might don fur, but he’d quickly assured me that her love for pets was too strong for her to ever give in to wearing the real thing. He’d also enlightened me that she remarried in her late fifties, tying the knot for the second time with a gentleman named Henri Toussaint, a French industrialist, who had left her a substantial fortune. Her body is adorned with various jewels, from rings on almost every finger to a delicate string of pearls around her neck and pearls dangling from each ear. Her long gray hair is slicked up into an elegant twist, and her eyes are covered by big round sunglasses, which she whips off when she sees Carter. She reminds me of an older Audrey Hepburn, capturing that same timeless elegance.

“Cartie! Mon cheri !” she coos under her flawless makeup, not pancaked on but rather lightly used to highlight her facial features. Just enough that I can tell she’s wearing some but not so much that it’s comical—except for the eyelids and eyebrows which are “slightly” overdone. “Come here, Cartie, and give your auntie a big hug!”

Cartie? Oh, my God, I love her already. I dare not look over at him for fear I’ll spoil everything by laughing, but I’d give almost anything to see the expression on his face.

Carter does as he’s told. “Hello, Auntie.” He gathers her into his broad arms. “You look younger each time I see you.”

“Oh, Carter Donovan, did I not teach you not to lie to your aunt? But thank you, you are not wrong.” Chuckling, she pats his arm before her face turns toward the car and she catches sight of me. “Is that Eden? What are you doing sitting in that fancy car? Come on out here and give your aunt a big hug!”

She doesn’t need to tell me twice. Swept up in her warmth and pageantry, I jump out of the BMW and let her pull me into a hug. Her wiry frame is stronger than she looks, and she hugs me so tight it almost cuts off my breathing.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Toussaint,” I say, hugging her back.

She scoffs. “ Nonono . What is with the formality? We are family, dear, are we not? You will call me ‘Auntie.’ Yes, I insist you do!”

“Okay, Auntie.”

She draws back from the hug and takes my face between her boney hands. She leans back in and lightly kisses each of my cheeks, starting with my left one. Carter has already explained that it’s a social custom in France that has been around for centuries and is deeply ingrained in French culture. In the same breath, he’d also cautioned me about his aunt’s “French,” the delightful outcome of her “Franglais” escapades, to the extent that even the Eiffel Tower might arch an eyebrow. According to Carter, she believes that adding a French word to everything she says makes it très chic (which, honestly, I find so endearing!).

“Oh, mon Dieu ! So beautiful! Carter, you lucky man.”

I grin over at him. “You hear that, babe , you lucky man?” It’s both odd and awesome to call him babe. He plays along perfectly, doesn’t even bat an eye, as if he’s used to me calling him that.

“So lucky.” He pulls his aunt into another hug. “Why don’t you get into the car, and I’ll go get your bags.”

“Oh, I already had some help from a handsome young man. Où est-il ? Ah! There he is! Jack!” A security guard steps out of the airport with a cart full of luggage. Aunt Eleanor steps up to him and pats his arm. “ Merci . Such a helpful young man. Handsome, too. Here, this is for you.”

I watch her take a roll of cash out of her fluffy coat and slip it into the small pocket on the front of his uniform shirt. His cheeks turn red. “Oh, no thank you, ma’am. I can’t accept this.”

“ Absurdité ! I know they do not pay you nearly enough for all you do. Hush now. Accept the tip and buy yourself something nice.” She motions for Carter to take the cart before turning back to me. “Do an old lady a favor and help her into the back seat.”

“Oh, you can have the front,” I offer immediately, motioning to the open door. “I insist.”

“Such a sweet girl.”

I help Eleanor into the front seat while Carter loads her six bags into the trunk. We catch each other’s eye, and I don’t need words to know we’re wondering the same thing. If she’s only staying for the weekend, why does she have so much luggage? That has to be a typical French thing. Aren’t French women famous for always looking immaculate? I know she’s American by birth, but living in France has clearly rubbed off on her.

Once she’s settled, I close the passenger-side door and climb into the back seat. Carter finishes loading her bags and gives the luggage cart back to Jack. He accepts it with a nod and waves goodbye to Eleanor, who gives him a warm smile and a wave back.

“You must be exhausted,” Carter says as soon as he starts the car. “We’ll get you home and you can take a long nap.”

Eleanor waves a dismissive hand. “I slept enough on the plane. Besides, I am not going to miss a moment getting to know my nephew’s beautiful new bride.”

Carter doesn’t get a chance to pull out of his parking space. His phone starts to ring. He gives us an apologetic look as he answers it. “Bradley, you know I’m not available today. This better be an emergency.”

I can’t hear what Bradley says, but by the look on Carter’s face, I can tell it’s not good. He glances over at his aunt, who’s staring at him with her intense blue eyes. “Uh-huh. Yeah, all right. Thanks.”

He hangs up, but before he can say anything, his aunt says, “Well, that did not last long.”

“I’m so sorry, I really am.” Carter puts the phone in the cup holder. “There’s an emergency at the office. They need me.”

“Can’t someone else handle it, babe?” I ask, emphasizing the word so he knows exactly how I feel about him trying to bail.

“Save your breath, ma chère .” Eleanor interjects with a wave of her jeweled hand. “Carter and his work are joined at the hip.”

“I can’t apologize enough.” Carter pulls out of the parking lot. “I swear I’ll only be gone for an hour, tops.”

“Yes, yes, I have heard it before.” Eleanor smiles and reaches into her handbag to pull out her hand mirror and check on her eyebrows. “Do not worry, Cartie. We will be fine. In fact, it will give me and Eden a little one-on-one time.”

Now, I’m a pretty positive person and know I can handle myself. But the thought of being alone with Carter’s elderly aunt when she’s in poor health and believes we’re married and that her nephew is deeply in love has me more than a little nervous.

Carter gives me “You got this, right?” eyes.

I offer a subtle nod.

You can handle this , I tell myself and smile back at her beaming face. It’s just an hour alone with an elderly lady. What could go wrong?

We make it back to the apartment, and Carter takes the time to bring up all of Eleanor’s bags. After he takes them to the guest suite, he gives his aunt a quick peck on the cheek. I look around. The maid is gone, and everything is perfect.

“One hour,” he repeats. “At the most.”

“We’ll be fine.” I offer him a smile, playing the loving wife to the T. “And you can make it up to us later.”

To my surprise, he leans in and gives me a kiss on my lips. The impact is so strong, it leaves me breathless. Even though it’s only a brief press of our lips, it still has my knees wobbling like the night before. In the heat of the moment, I forget I need to stay in character. When he pulls away, my head is spinning, and then I remember his aunt and that the kiss was all for show.

Right. It was all pretend. Don’t get too invested , I warn myself.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can, love,” he says.

Sweet heavens. He called me “love.” During our just-the-tip sex he’d called me “baby.” Now, he’d called me “love.”

Don’t get emotionally attached , I warn myself.

Carter leaves, and I’m alone with his aunt. I can feel her intense eyes watching me as I turn away from the door.

“Young love! My heart!” she coos when I finally regain my senses and turn to face her.

Apparently, the happy face I’m wearing due to him calling me “love” is an Oscar-worthy performance.

“I know .” I beam. “How about we get you settled in the guest suite?” I suggest, ready to help her unpack.

“Oh, nonono , we do not have to do that right now.” She shakes her head, making her way to the couch. She takes off the animal-friendly coat, and it makes her look even smaller. Without it, I can see that Eleanor is more fragile than her charisma suggests.

She lets herself sink onto the couch.

I follow, taking her coat and hanging it on the rack by the door. “Can I get you something?” I ask when I return to her. “A snack or some tea, maybe?”

“Tea would be grandiose.” She makes herself comfortable with a pillow. “How about Earl Grey? As long as you make a cup for yourself and join me.”

“I’d be happy to.”

“ Ma chère , I have a ton of questions.”