Marrying My Billionaire Hookup - Page 73

Part of me says to tell him. But I don’t. And I don’t call my brother

s or cousins or friends, either. I take Edgar’s bag up to my unit and sit at my dining table with a deep sigh.

It’s about time I was honest with myself. Despite my angry bravado at Starbucks when Aaron showed me the sex video, there’s a deeply seated kernel of shame inside me. I wish there weren’t, but…

The thing is that I can’t believe I trusted Aaron enough to have sex with him. It feels like such a stupid thing to do in retrospect. Just date him and sleep with him because he was a great dancer and seemed like a fun guy? What was I thinking?

In my own defense, I couldn’t have known how my relationship with him was going to turn out. But Rafael seemed to. He didn’t care for Aaron and made it abundantly clear what he thought.

And Rafael doesn’t have any crazy exes making sex tapes and trying to blackmail him.

I need to face the fact that I haven’t had any luck picking decent guys. Need the perfect outfit, shoes and accessories? Sure. Piece of cake. But I can’t do the same with men. The dudes always become duds, culminating with this Aaron mess. What’s wrong with me that I have such a broken radar?

The horrified pity I normally feel for the fashion-challenged wells inside me…but this time it’s directed at myself.

I fold my arms on the table and rest my forehead on them. I’m a victim of Aaron’s illegal filming. So yes, technically I shouldn’t blame myself. But thinking that doesn’t make me immune to a horrible sense of humiliation and embarrassment. And it’s made even worse because I can’t figure out how to get out of the situation I’m in.

And maybe that’s why I can’t seem to pick up the phone for the rest of the day.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Edgar

I head to the steakhouse Tony recommended. He said the food was great, but the live music could be iffy, depending on who’s playing their piano. Ivy confirmed as much with a small grimace.

As long as the food is decent, I’m fine with subpar music. I have a special lunch planned, but it doesn’t require a pianist of Ivy’s caliber. When I bring Jo, I’ll make sure the pianist is competent.

When Linda finally sent me the info on Aaron Korvid, I understood exactly how I needed to approach the problem. I also realized why his name sounded so familiar. My father and I are good friends with his grandfather, Charles Korvid. Actually, I’d say he feels as though he owes us. Without the Blackwoods’ investment, he would’ve never made his fortune and joined the ranks of the nouveau riche in the last decade. He knows it too, and acts accordingly. Unlike his grandson, he’s a respectable man who doesn’t forget his debts.

I’m going to use that leverage to crush Aaron and make sure he’s never seen around Jo again.

The maître d’ takes me to my table. Charles is already here. I believe in being punctual. He believes in being five minutes early.

We shake hands. His grip is surprisingly strong for his age and slender frame. Silver streaks his thin, sandy hair, and his brown eyes are warm and friendly. It’s a great mystery that a man this affable is related to someone as repugnant as Aaron.

We sit down and glance at the menu. It’s perfunctory on my part, but Charles gives the food some thought. We order a bottle of red to split. There’s no need to make him think it’s anything but social. His grandson should be joining us soon as well. I asked Charles specifically to bring his grandsons. And he was thrilled, obviously thinking it would be a great opportunity to introduce them to me. Unfortunately, one is apparently out of town on his honeymoon after his hasty wedding, but that’s okay. The one I’m really interested is still in the city, according to Linda’s update.

“I had no idea you were in Los Angeles,” Charles begins after the tasting is satisfactory.

“Some personal business. I’m in the process of convincing a woman to marry me,” I say lightly, then sip my wine. It’s nicely full-bodied, but I think the one from Sombrero Valley is better.

Charles gives me a look. “Who wouldn’t want to marry you?”

“You’d be surprised. Some women aren’t too impressed with my family.”

Charles raises his eyebrows high enough to carve deep lines into his forehead. “We must know different women.”

“She’ll be my wife soon enough.” I shoot him a calm “there can be only one outcome” smile. “I plan to be very persuasive.”

“Well, who could deny a persuasive Blackwood?”

“No one.” Especially once I crush your grandson like the worm that he is.

Our waiter comes by for our order. Charles grimaces. “I’m sorry Aaron’s late. Don’t know what could be keeping him.”

“It’s all right.” My estimation of his grandson drops another notch. At the rate things are going, he’ll soon rank below road kill. “Let’s wait a bit longer.”

The waiter nods and vanishes.

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