Page 20 of How to Blow It with a Billionaire

“It’s wonderful. You’re wonderful.”

He made a snuffly noise, which I thought might have been embarrassment. And was adorable. Then cleared his throat. “Remember our pact.”

“I’m going to make these changes and I’ll send it. Promise promise promise.”

“Then I should probably say good night.”

“I guess you probably should.”

Except…neither of us did. We just hung around in the silence like teenagers.

Until Caspian cleared his throat again. “I’ll see you on Friday.”

“I’m crossing my fingers for the future of the dollar, the euro, and the yen.”

“As am I. Good night, Arden.”

And then he was gone.

As laid down by the terms of our pact—OMG, Caspian could be the cutest sometimes—I gave my article one last edit and then fired it off to Milieu.

I really hoped they wanted it. Abandoned hospital rave seemed so them. It was quirky and unusual and—honestly—the whole affair had reeked of privilege. Of exclusivity and payoffs and self-conscious slumming. An ultimately upper-class hobby. I also hoped the fact I’d sent it at 2 a.m. made me look like a wild party animal. Rather than just, say, horrendously unemployed.

Regardless, I felt shiny and accomplished as I put my laptop away and gingerly rolled myself up in the duvet. I did wonder how well I’d sleep, given the requirement to lie on my stomach. But I didn’t wonder long.

Because in minutes I was gone. Blissfully, totally gone.

Chapter 6

I only woke up because I could smell smoke. Not house-burning-down type smoke. The lightly-toasted skunk-flavored smoke that meant someone had weed nearby.

I rolled over with a muffled moan, which was followed by an entirely unmuffled yell. Ellery was sitting right there, back against the footrest, spliff in her hand.

She took a nonchalant toke. “So you’re here.”

“Um, you’re in my bedroom.”

“What is this—a be-more-obvious contest?”

“No, it’s a…” I was way too nonconsensually naked for banter. “What are you doing here?”

She shrugged and kept on smoking. For all her half-closed eyes and general stoner air, you didn’t have to be Jean Grey to notice she didn’t seem entirely happy. She was wearing New Rocks, suspender tights, and a barely there T-shirt dress with the Rolling Stones Sticky Fingers tongue on it. From the smudged glitter on her eyelids, she’d probably been out all night. I guess I was lucky she hadn’t a brought a bunch of friends with her this time.

“Do you want to crash?” I tried. “Take a shower or something?”

Another shrug. Another drag.

I resisted the urge to flap the smoke away with my hand. “Are you really just going to sit there? Getting high? On my bed?”

Shrug. I was sensing a theme.

“Okay, fine. But I think I might go back to sleep if it’s all the same to you.”

Since no answer forthcame, I wriggled onto my stomach, tucked myself into the duvet, and stuffed my head under the pillow. I didn’t actually believe I would prance off to slumberland with my…uh…okay I was still drawing a blank on what to call whatever I was doing with Caspian…with Caspian’s sister sitting right there, but it was better than effortfully extracting whatever the fuck was up Ellery’s arse.

“Are you coming to my birthday or what?” she asked, the moment I was settled. “Caspian was supposed to give you an invitation. But probably he didn’t bother.”

I refused to exit the pillow. “I got it. And I’m definitely coming.”