Her eyes sparkle. “Really?” Then she stares at my non-teased mane. “But how come you don’t wear it like that anymore?”
“It isn’t really right for where I work. But I can show you.”
She considers, then nods. “Okay. Thank you.”
Chapter Twelve
Wyatt
Dipping my fingers in water and sticking them into an electrical socket would be less painful than this.
The woman—Bethany—across the table radiates a polished sexual energy. Her red hair glints, her brown eyes glint and her red nails glint. Every time she throws her head back and laughs, her teeth glint.
All that glinting reminds me of metal robotic claws…long, shiny ones, reaching for my bank account. The worst thing is that I’m certain she’d wrap them around my dick too if she thought that was what she needed to do get to my recent wealth.
I can feel it shrink in horror. You better not! She isn’t even that hot.
Technically she is sort of pretty, in a luscious, overtly sexual way. I can see why David thought she’d be a good rebound date to take to Geneva’s wedding. She might’ve been, too, if I were single and looking for a meaningless roll in the hay to pass the time.
Elbows propped on the table, Bethany is leaning forward intently. Her breasts look like they’re about to explode out of her dress, and I wonder if she plans to continue leaning until her nipples pop over the low neckline.
Oddly, it reminds me of Kim. And the way her breasts felt against me yesterday morning—soft and firm at the same time. Why was that so arousing, especially since she acted like I was covered in raw sewage?
“So tell me everything,” Bethany says breathlessly. “I’ve always been interested in those big tech deals.”
Except she isn’t really interested in the deal. What she’s interested in is exactly how much I made off Sweet Darlings Inc.
I’m going to kill David for setting this up. “It was mostly just selling a few patents.”
“But the articles said you made billions.” Her teeth flash.
Billions… She can’t even read right. The articles covering the deal have never said billions. Would she leave in crushed disappointment if I told her it was really just a little over one billion, plus a position at Sweet Darlings?
In my head, Kim’s cool expression and immediate departure from Éternité play in a weird overlapping montage with this woman’s excitement. I wonder what Kim would say if I explained my success to her. Would she be as admiring as Bethany? Or would she still turn away?
Whichever, at least it would be an honest reaction.
Yeah, just like how she called our time together a “mistake.”
The reminder stings, even after all these years.
It’s already after eight. I’m finished with my entrée—mainly because I gobbled it down in a hurry to get the hell out of the restaurant. Bethany’s slower, but she only eats half, and in small, nibbling bites, like she’s some kind of dieting rodent. She gestures for the dessert menu.
Oh hell no. Not doing this.
Dad raised me to be nice to women, but I know if I make him proud, I’m going to end up stuck here for hours because Bethany won’t end it with just dessert. She’ll want coffee…and cheese…and cognac…
Time to end this charade. Which means I need to start acting like the most direct and straightforward of my friends.
“I’m full,” I say baldly, channeling Dane. “I need to get going.”
“So soon?” Bethany says, fluttering her eyelashes. The fake lashes’ movement reminds me of centipede legs. I suppress a shudder.
Our waiter comes over as though he’s sensed I need him. I hand him my credit card. The man’s going to be tipped well.
“Maybe coffee? At my place?” Bethany asks, her voice so breathless that I’m afraid she’s about to hyperventilate. If she does, I’ll ask the waiter to call 911, but I’m not going with her to the ER.
“I have a kid waiting for me at home,” I say, hoping she gets the hint.