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An icy silence descended as the driver put the luggage in the trunk and climbed back behind the wheel. Jenny didn’t say another word. If she wasn’t going to make small talk, fuck it. I wouldn’t utter a goddamned syllable.
It was the car ride from hell. Her coconut-y scent wafted over me while she completely ignored my ass, misery radiating off of her.Fuck. I’d made a terrible mistake hiring her back.
When we arrived at Fifty Liberty, Amari hustled outside to meet us. “Mr. Bryson, Ms. Jenny.” He smiled as he got Jenny’s luggage. We awkwardly followed him inside. My movements felt stiff, like I was a robot. Jenny was careful to keep her distance from me.
By the time we got into the lobby, I felt fucking awful. It physically pained me to be so close to Jenny and not be able to touch her.
“Is everything ready?” I asked Amari.
Amari was my favorite employee at Fifty Liberty, and I was always friendly with him. So was Jenny. But at the moment, there was nothing but a sharp, awkward silence stretching out between the three of us. He looked at me; he looked at her, and he took in the situationrealquick.
“Absolutely, Mr. Bryson,” Amari said, not missing a beat. “Ms. Jenny, please follow me. I’ll take you to your residence.”
She still had her sunglasses on, but she was visibly startled. “Huh? My residence?”
“Yes, so we could meet yourstipulations,” I hissed. “My lawyers were supposed to tell you that I bought out the Windsor’s unit for cash. I had it deep-cleaned and refurbished over the weekend. You should have everything you need.”
“You did all that this weekend?” Jenny asked.
I wished she’d take off her sunglasses, but they remained intact, hiding her beautiful eyes and any readable expression.
I shrugged. “Money can’t buy happiness, but it can buy a lot of other shit.”
“I guess.” Her voice was so gravelly it sounded like maybe she’d been crying over the weekend. But I didn’t want to flatter myself that it had anything to do with me.
“Right this way, Ms. Jenny. I’ll bring your bags up and show you the key code.” Amari headed toward the elevator.
Jenny hesitated. “You aren’t coming?” she asked me.
“I will be later,” I snapped. “But for the moment, you can get settled. Goodbye, Jenny.”
She didn’t say anything, but she wobbled a little in her heels as she walked away, as if I had knocked her off balance.
Damn.I watched Jenny go, feeling worse than awful. This wasn’t exactly the reunion I’d been hoping for.
It was, however, the one I’d paid for.
It would be wise for me to remember that.
JENNY
I wonderedhow Cole had managed to buy the Windsor’s condo and get the mean sisters out of the building so quickly. I couldn’t comprehend that he’d also had it painted and refurnished over the course of one weekend. But like he’d said, money couldn’t buy happiness, but it could buy a lot of other shit.
Amari brought me to the unit, showed me the key code, and brought my luggage inside. The space was stunning, of course. Fifty Liberty was the most exclusive address in Boston, and it was for a reason.
“Thanks, Amari.” I handed him a ten-dollar bill, the only cash I had.
He waved it off. “Mr. Bryson takes care of me—you never need to tip.”
I nodded. “Thank you.” I wanted to ask him how Cole had been since I’d left, but I didn’t dare.
“It’s my pleasure. It’s nice to have you back, Ms. Jenny.” Amari smiled warmly and left me alone.
I paced the gorgeous apartment, which had a pristine view of the harbor like Cole’s. The floor-to-ceiling windows bathed the open-concept space in bright sunlight. The new furniture was terrific: all-white couches, colorful pillows, and richly textured,bright modern art on the walls. I loved it. The vibe was fresh, immaculate, and rich AF.
But I couldn’t think about the beautiful apartment. All I could think about was Cole.
He’d been so cold on the ride to Fifty Liberty. Not that I blamed him—I’d barely said a word during the fifteen-minute drive. I wanted to set the tone for the next round of our arrangement. I was in love with him, but it wasn’t safe for either of us. So I needed him to know that the woman he’d known before, the one with the honking laugh and the easy, sunny smile—she was gone. All that was left was me. His escort. His fake date. His hired plaything.