Page 58

The box exudes luxury—that much is certain.
“Not sure,” she replies, picking up the mess. “It was just dropped off.”
The sign I hung across my window last week is still in place.
Lauren glances at it, then meets my eyes. “This fight is a waste of time.”
“That’s your opinion,” I reply.
I don’t want to think about Billie today. That woman has been on my mind since I stupidly slid my lips across hers on Saturday night. Every waking hour has been pure torture, a living nightmare I can’t escape.
I’d expected to feelnothing, but somehow, I felt it all. Suddenly, I was a twelve-year-old boy again, kissing my first crush. And I’m fuckingpissedabout it. Billie Calloway and I cannever happen.
“Did someone burn both sides of your toast this morning?” She blinks at me, her eyes wide with curiosity.
“I didn’t sleep well last night,” I explain, recalling how I tossed and turned for hours.
“Okay. I hope you can get some rest tonight. You need it.” She leaves me to myself.
I scoot the box closer to the edge, opening it, only to reveal tissue paper wrapped around something inside. On top is an ivory envelope withBankswritten in elegant cursive.
Still thinking about that beautiful suit I ruined and how it was a crime against fashion. Please accept my apology—yes, I mean it—and this replacement.
—B
“Ice Queen,” I whisper as I peel back the tissue paper to reveal a charcoal-gray suit with a light-blue liner—exactly the shade of her eyes.
I pull the coat from the box, holding it up. It’s Dolce & Gabbana, and considering her obsession with fashion, I know she went all out to find the best replacement.
I slide it on over my dress shirt, and it fits like it was tailored just for me. Considering who she is, I wouldn’t be surprised if she texted my stylist for measurements.
I place the coat back into the box, along with the letter, carefully putting on the lid and tapping it closed. After a deep breath, I turn toward the window facing her office, where she’s watching me. She lifts her hand to wave, and I walk over to the trash bin and drop the box inside.
The horror on her face almost makes me smile, but I maintain my burning glare. She shakes her head and returns to her desk.
I leave my office, not wanting her kindness.
This is a part of her game. We’re all just pawns.
That’s why Prince Louis was glued to her side on Saturday. He only shows up when he needs to shift the narrative about himself. I see through her PR stunts as if I directed them.
I waltz into Nick’s office, and he holds up a finger, continuing his phone conversation.
“Yes,Mom. Ash won’t do that. I get that the Alexanders are furious and worried about Harper’s fashion company. Trust me, I know my brother better thananyone.” Nick glares at me, clearly annoyed. “No, Mom. I don’t think he cares about that.”
Her high-pitched voice drones on.
“I know, I know. Anyway, I’ve gotta go. A client just walked in. Love you too,” Nick says, ending the call. “My mom islivid. Harper’s dad is pissed. Your vendetta against Billie and Harper was the topic of discussion at the country club on Sunday.”
“Oh, I hope you told them I don’t have any issues with Harper,” I say, feeling pleased with my decision to be a bastard.
“They’re business partners, and they have been best friends since they were five. They’re a packaged deal. You hate one, you hate both.”
I shrug. “That’s unfortunate, I guess. Anyway, I need your help hanging another sign, please.”
“Does this have anything to do with the articles about Louis and Billie dating?” Nick picks uphislucky baseball from the corner of his desk and tosses it in the air.
“Somewhat.” I flash him a shit-eating grin. “Billie sent me a new suit and an apology for clumsily tripping and pushing me into Weston’s pool on Saturday.”