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Fifty thousand dollars. I was going to haveto buy a fucking car to avoid my punishment.
* * * *
It wasn’t as if I’d never been in a high-enddepartment store before. My parents made plenty of money, and myprom dresses in high school had been fantastic. But I wasnotprepared for Bergdorf Goodman.
Entering was like stepping into Versailles.And even though on the West Coast, you could tell how rich someonewas based on how sloppy they looked in public, here, everyoneseemed to be wearing designer everything.
I was in jeans and T-shirt with a purse fromTarget over my arm.
A sales associate spotted me, and I startedtheir way. They turned and hoofed it.
Fuck.
Matt was rich enough to shop here. Iwasn’t.
I spent some time exploring. There wereboutique areas for names I’d heard of but never dreamed of wearingand I certainly wasn’t brave enough to touch anything. I wonderedif I would be punished if I just bought an expensive necklace orsomething and handed him the receipt.
“Excuse me.”
I spun at the sound of the voice, certain Iwould see a store associate ready to ask me if I needed to knowwhere the exit was. Instead, a gorgeous brunette in a strange,baggy aqua dress that looked like a men’s shirt on top and balloonanimal legs for a skirt stood there with a dazzling, if perplexed,smile.
And she did look familiar.
“I think we know each other.” She adjustedthe enormous tortoiseshell-frame sunglasses perched atop her headas they attempted to slide off.
“I’m brand new to the city, so I’m sorry, Idon’t think so.” But shedidlook like someone I had seenbefore. I couldn’t put my finger on where. “Do you ever get out toLos Angeles?”
“Not often. I do own a hotel out there, butit’s not like, a ritzy one.” She laughed and waved a hand, like itwas a silly thing anyone could say. “Long story.”
But the more I looked at her, the more I wassure I knew who she was. “This is going to drive me bonkers. Iswear we’ve met.”
“London?” she suggested doubtfully.
I shook my head.
“The Hamptons?” And then she shook her head,adding, “No, I know literally nobody out there.”
“I’m pretty sure we don’t run in the samecircles,” I said apologetically. “Did you happen to attend awedding a few months ago where someone was mauled by a bear?”
Then, her eyes went wide.
And I immediately knew who she was.
“Um…” Her cheeks flushed bright red. “I’mnot supposed to say where I remember you from.”
“Me either.” Because I remembered her frombeing tied down to the chair at the roulette wheel at AscendRed.
While her husband with the huge dick fuckedme.
“This is…awkward.” I jerked my thumb over myshoulder. “I think I’ll—”
“You don’t have to,” she said quickly. “Imean, it’s not like we’re breaking the rules if we both happened torecognize each other.”
“Yeah, but…” I lowered my voice and glancedaround us. “Your husband…fucked me.”
“Both of them did,” she corrected me, fullycasual about having two of them. “We just got back into the wholeswinging thing. El-Mudad—he’s one of my husbands—had somereservations about it for a while. That’s probably why we never metdown there, before.”
“It was my first time there,” I explained,feeling a little dizzy. How many New York elite had I fucked? Andwould I run into all of them and have to have this kind ofconversation?