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The Player + The Pact = I Do (New York City Billionaires #2) Chapter 14 47%
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Chapter 14

FOURTEEN

Leo

There are certain points in a development that feel like victories—points I celebrate and allow myself to get excited over. New River just had first-fix electrics and plumbing installed, and the lobby and show apartment are nearly ready. I can finally see how incredible the finished project is going to be.

“Can you open the roof?” I ask my driver. I’ve already wound down the windows, but I need to feel as New York as it’s possible to feel right now. I can’t get enough of this awesome city and I want to experience it all. I wanna put my head out of the window, like a dog, and take in the scent of hot dog stands and overspilling garbage and the late September sun that I can see only if I look up to the sky. I want to hear beeping car horns and the shrieks of an unhappy restaurant owner yelling at someone in the street, or the construction workers calling to one another, taking up the road .

I owe everything I have to this city and my parents for bringing me here. There’s nothing I don’t love about it.

We pull up outside my building and I can’t wait to get inside. The phenomenal views from my apartment are calling me; I want to look out onto the skyline and give thanks.

I burst into the apartment and immediately hear Bach’s cello suites. I smile. Jules. Who knew that I’d actually look forward to coming home to a roommate?

The door slams behind me and I toe off my shoes before heading into the living space. The music turns off. Jules has heard I’m back.

“Hey,” I call.

She pokes her head out of her bedroom. She’s chewing. She swallows. “Hey.” She comes out and leans against the doorjamb. “How are you? You look mighty happy.”

She’s holding a half-eaten apple in her hand. I grab her wrist and hold it up, then take a bite of her apple.

“Help yourself,” she says, smiling at me as I chew.

This time it’s my turn to swallow. “Jules, today is a good day!”

She follows me as I head to the windows of the apartment.

“New York Fucking City,” I exclaim. “So great they named it twice.” The low sun has turned the skyline dusky orange. It’s fucking beautiful. “New York is the love of my fucking life.”

She stands beside me, looking out over the city. “You win the lottery or something?” she asks.

“Sure did. Look at my life!”

She laughs. “Yeah, well, when you put it like that. But what happened today? You’re not always so… chipper.”

I chuckle and my eyes slide to hers. Her hair is on top of her head in a messy bun with strands poking out all over. “Oh, I didn’t even ask—how was your first day?”

She sighs. “I thought it was good, and then you arrive punching the air and doing your little New-York’s-so-great dance.”

“There’s no dance.”

“If I wasn’t here, I bet there’d be a dance.” She looks at me, beaming, and all I can think about is how I’d like to dance with her right this second.

But I’m not dancing with women. I’m having sex with women. That’s as far as it goes. I’m not getting embroiled again. Not after making such a terrible mistake with Nadia.

“I just had my first walk around New River and it’s great. The views are great. The space is great. It’s… lovely.”

“That’s amazing, Leo. New River is going to be spectacular. I’d love to see it.”

“Well, good, because you will see it. I’m having a cocktail party there in a week or so. We’re launching the sales center. Did you get the email from Aesha?”

“I did. How’s she working out for you?”

“She smiles more than you did when you were my assistant.”

Jules laughs and it’s like my joy cup is being topped up. She’s dazzling when she smiles. “That wouldn’t be difficult. But is she a good assistant?”

“She seems fine. You trained her well.”

“Of course I did. I don’t want to have to go back to that job. Anyway, she’s a quick learner.”

“Was it really so bad?” As soon as I’ve asked, I wish I hadn’t. There’s something in me that doesn’t want to hear how bad working for me is. Not from her.

“No, of course it wasn’t, but being back in the hotel today… it’s where I belong.” She turns and takes a seat on one end of the sectional.

I grin at her. She’s so relaxed, so comfortable. It’s nice. I’m pleased she’s here.

“Thanks for the flowers, by the way.”

“My pleasure. How did it go?”

“It was interesting,” she says. I pause, wanting her to expand a little bit. I go and get a glass of water from the kitchen. “It sounds kinda douche-y,” she calls over to me. “But I see things differently now. I always knew there were areas to improve and things I’d do differently, but today, I saw some things I wasn’t expecting to see. It was… disappointing.”

“You want to elaborate?”

She laughs. “You don’t give two shits about The Mayfair.”

“I give half a shit about The Mayfair, but I definitely give two shits about your day, which happens to have taken place at The Mayfair.”

She looks at me for a second, then two, then says, “Goddammit, Leo. Stay on-brand for all our sakes, will you?”

“If only I knew what that entailed.”

“I’m going to hold fire before I tell you what happened today,” she continues. “I want to do some more digging, figure more stuff out. Then I’ll either find solutions or come up with a plan to solve the problems that may or may not require your input.”

“How very cryptic,” I reply.

“Not cryptic. But you’re Just Leo here, right? Not my boss.”

She has a point. “Fair enough.” I join her on the sofa. “So tell me about when we met before. Was it a work context? ”

She shakes her head. Maybe I’m imagining it, but all of a sudden she doesn’t seem to be able to look me in the eye. Is she worried I’ll be able to place her? Surely not. If I was going to figure out we’d met before, I’d have done it by now. She’s been working for me for months.

“Give me a clue.”

A grin twitches at the corners of her mouth. “My hair was a different color.”

I squint. “What color?” She shrugs. Why is she being so reticent about this? Did I embarrass myself? Did she? I really hope we haven’t slept together. “Why won’t you tell me?”

“You want the whole list of reasons, or just my top three?”

“Absolutely. If there’s a list, give me a list.”

She stares out over Manhattan for a few seconds. “I think I can sum it up by saying I’m embarrassed.”

What on earth could she be embarrassed about?

“Did we meet in Manhattan?”

She nods.

“If not in work, then at a bar?”

She nods again.

That doesn’t really narrow it down. Manhattan has over ten thousand bars. And I’m pretty sure I’ve been to most of them over the last couple of years. “You’re a tease,” I say.

“Honestly, I’m not.” Her expression is all worry. Despite the fact I want to know where we met, I don’t want her to stress about it.

She stands. “I should go. I’m meeting Sophia for a cocktail. I need to change.”

I can’t help but stare at her as she walks past me on the sofa. Have I seen her before? And just then, as she turns her head back to look at me, I see something. There’s a glimmer of recognition.

“Hey,” I say.

She stops and turns to face me. I stand so we’re just a couple of feet apart. And then I see it—can’t possibly unsee it. And I realize why I haven’t recognized her before now. “You’re Mystique.”

She rolls her eyes and goes to leave, but I grab her arm.

“Hey, wait a minute.”

She stills, and I drop my hand.

“You never called me.”

She lets out a cynical laugh. “Nope. But I’m sure one of the other girls you gave your number to that night did.”

“What?”

“I have to go.”

“Just wait a minute. What are you talking about?”

She puts her hands on her hips. “Yeah, I went to the no-costume party in a costume.”

“It was a great costume.” She’d looked absolutely phenomenal. I remember being mesmerized by her beautiful eyes and trying my best to keep my eyes above her neck. She was fire. And I loved the fact she’d followed the comic book version of the character and not just done the obvious route with the movie version. But it was more than just her costume that had me interested that night. I felt a connection to her that I hadn’t felt in a long time. She seemed so… down-to-earth. Despite the fact she was blue, she wasn’t trying too hard. She was being one hundred percent herself. As much as I love New York, that’s rare.

Her smile that night is still etched in my brain. I’ve thought about that woman more than once since that night.

And now here she is, right in front of me .

She nods her head in agreement. “Yeah. And I had to go.”

“Yeah, you were playing wingman to your friend. But I gave you my number because you wouldn’t give me yours. But you never called because…”

“Because I could see you were a…”

I lift my eyebrows, waiting for her to finish her sentence.

“So that’s our history,” she says. “No big secret.”

“But why are you embarrassed?”

“You mean other than the fact that I was dressed as a bright blue mutant at a very non-costume party? Oh, and that you gave your number to another girl minutes after you thought I’d left?”

Had I given my number out to someone else? I remember being gutted Mystique never reappeared. I thought I’d left right after. “I didn’t give my number to anyone else,” I say, searching my brain. The night had lost all its shine after she left. I remember leaving a little deflated, disappointed that Mystique had left but excited about having met her. I know I didn’t leave with anyone that night. I remember my head being full of… a bright blue mutant.

She rolls her eyes at me. “I went to the restroom and came out and watched you hand your phone to a woman who typed in—her number presumably. Then she handed it back to?—”

“Oh my god!” I interrupt, finally putting the pieces of the puzzle together. “You mean Jean!”

“Her name was Jean? As in Grey?” She rolls her eyes. “Don’t tell me, your baby sister, right?” she says sarcastically, anticipating a lie from me. She really has some trust issues.

“No, not my baby sister. My hair stylist. She’d moved from the salon where she’d been cutting my hair for years to set up on her own. She wanted me to switch.”

“Of course she did.”

I shrug. “I can’t make you believe me.” What could I do to convince her? I don’t know if I have any actual evidence. I know I shouldn’t have to prove that I’m telling the truth, and Jules’ distrust doesn’t make me bristle; instead, it just helps me see that something’s broken inside her.

I pull out my phone. “She messaged me that Monday. What date was the party?” I glance up at her.

“Twelfth of April, two years ago.”

I go to search and then look back to Jules. How did she have that date so close to mind?

“What?” she asks. “I remember dates.”

I find Jean’s thread of messages and scroll back to the fourteenth of April. “Here,” I say, offering her my phone.

“Riiight,” she says sarcastically. But she takes my phone and scrolls through, skimming the messages, then hands it back to me. Some of the edge has gone out of her voice when she says, “Maybe you’re right.”

“I’m serious. I remember wondering how long it would take you to message me, and then you never did.”

She looks at me for a beat, then finally says, “Just think, if I’d have called you, we’d probably be married right now.”

I can’t help but smile at her. I can see clearly she wears a veneer of I don’t care , but now that I know her a bit more, I can tell how fragile that veneer is.

“I was disappointed you didn’t call,” I say. “And we’re not married yet, but we’re heading in the right direction, judging by your left ring finger.”

She lets out a laugh, and I can feel pride push against my chest. “Thank god I misunderstood. I might have called and you’d be a fake fiancée down.” Our eyes catch. She looks away first. “But I didn’t and here we are. And yes, I got the list from Aesha. I’ll make sure I’m fiancée material on Friday night.”

Part of me wants to steer the conversation back to that night at the party. I want her to know that I really liked her and was hoping she’d call. But what good would it do? We’re trying to be friends. Anything more would lead to mess and complications.

“Good. I’m glad Aesha’s on it. If you need anything to wear, I have an account at Bergdorf’s.”

“What does that mean?”

“What do you think it means? It means if you need anything, go to Bergdorf’s and put it on my account.” She starts to laugh, and I turn to watch. I can’t not. “What?” I ask.

“I should just go and buy whatever I want?”

I shrug. “If you need something. If you were actually my fiancée, that’s what I’d say, isn’t it?”

“I have no idea. I’ve never been a billionaire’s fiancée before. Or anyone’s for that matter. The idea of someone paying for my clothes—or anything—it’s… a lot. Unusual to say the least.”

“You don’t have to go.”

She starts to laugh again. “I promise only to buy the bare minimum of what a fiancée of yours might need.”

I get a flash of her in a changing room, undressing in front of a mirror. I turn back to the view of the city.

Messy and complicated, I remind myself. And I’m not up for either.

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