That is exactly the lesson I learned from my ex. Hence my resolve to focus on work.
“Not everyone is Blossom.”
“More are than aren’t. Mark my words. Your hot little interior designer will say something about ‘a man like you’ or ‘a person in your position.’ She’ll make it clear she sees you as other within the first ten minutes of your meeting.”
Blossom used to say it all the time. A man like you should get what he wants. Like I’m somehow better than the rest of the world. Why? Because I have money?
It felt like a manipulation. Like she was trying to pull a sleight of hand by soothing an ego that doesn’t exist.
“Gotta go,” I say to Dom. “Thanks for the heads up about the article.”
I end the call and shove my phone in my pocket, then stroll towards a man in tight jeans and a T-shirt that begs someone to acknowledge his gym time. The man named “One to Watch” by Architectural Digest for five years running glances up as I approach.
He shakes my hand. Firm grip. Likable smile. “Benjamin Bancroft. It’s great to finally meet you in person. As I said in the group chat, this site is brimming with potential.”
“The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Bancroft,” I reply as my phone vibrates like a goddamn buzzsaw in my pocket. Probably my family complaining about me dragging our name through the mud when they really should be tracking down that awful journalist and talking to her.
I refocus on Bancroft, slipping off my sunglasses and hooking them into the neck of my T-shirt. “The body of your work speaks for itself,” I say, mirroring his smile despite my raging headache. “I can’t wait to hear what you and Ms. Blake have in mind for my new home.”
My phone stops alerting me to texts and switches to calls as Ms. Blake arrives beside me. Her hand’s extended. Her smile is plucky, like she refuses to be ignored, kind of like whoever the hell is blowing up my phone.
“Mina Blake,” she says and damn it, if my phone doesn’t stop ringing, I’m going to throw it in the ocean. “It’s an honor to meet you, Mr. West. And yeah, this site is amazing.”
I pull out my phone, glare at the slew of notifications, and silence the damn thing before I shake the woman’s hand. “Ms. Blake.”
She’s beautiful.
I mean, you know, in an everyday kind of way. Softer than the rail thin socialites Dom flirts with night after night. Ebony hair glistens like onyx in the sunlight. She’s overdressed for the occasion in a pair of tailored black pants and a delicate white top that hugs her chest every time the wind whispers through. The outfit looks worn, though well cared for, like her car. Money’s tight for Mina Blake. Her face is guarded, but her lips twist into a mischievous smile when she glances at Benjamin.
“I am so excited to work with someone as talented as Mr. Bancroft. Especially on a project like this. This is basically a dream come true for me.” Mina’s eyes meet mine, sparkling with enthusiasm, which should be a point in her favor, but after my conversation with Dom, I’m afraid they’re sparkling with dollar signs.
“You mean a project with an unlimited budget.” I shoot her a scathing glance that’s really meant for the Blossoms of the world, then swallow hard, preparing an apology, but Mina speaks first.
“An unlimited budget will let us flex our creative muscles to your heart’s content.” The temperature of her voice drops several degrees. “A man like you deserves to get what he wants.”
A man like me…
Fuck. Dom was right. Five minutes of conversation and there it is.
I can’t trust Mina Blake.
THREE
Mina
“Oh my God. Fallon! It was awful!” I collapse onto my friend’s orange velvet couch, curl into a ball, and pull a shaggy chenille throw over my head. “I’m never coming out from under here. This is where I live now.”
“That’s fine. You’re welcome to stay there as long as you like.” The couch shifts as she sits beside me and pats my thigh. There’s a soft thunk of something heavy being set on the coffee table with the unmistakable clink of wine glasses following behind. “It will make it harder for us to share this bottle of vin santo rosso, but I’m sure you’re okay with that.”
Damn her willingness to exploit my love of sweet red wine!
“I can drink under here just fine, thank you very much.” I slip out a hand to reach for my glass, but Fallon scoffs.
“You absolutely cannot drink wine under there. It’s red. My blanket is beige. And you, while sweet as can be and I love you to pieces, are a klutz with a capital K when you drink.”
“Wow.” I sit up and wrap the blanket around my head and shoulders, insulating myself from the memories of Nathan West glaring at me like I didn’t deserve to breathe the same air as him. “Way to kick me when I’m down.”
“Honey, there are certain truths we need to own about ourselves. Drunken klutzhood is one of yours.” Fallon carefully unwraps the blanket from my head and folds it before draping it over the arm of the couch in a seemingly haphazard way that’s effortlessly stylish, just like the sleek black hair that falls gracefully down her back, highlighting a flowing, off-the-shoulder floral top. Add in high-waisted, wide-legged white linen trousers and it’s hard to believe she works from home.
“Now. Talk. Spill.” Fallon playfully flutters her eyelids, showing off a daring shade of eyeshadow while smiling widely. “Give me everything you have on ‘Welcome to my villain era’ Nathan West, then we can switch to what really matters, Benjamin Bancroft.”
“He’s so nice,” I say dreamily. “And a thousand times better looking in person, if you can believe it. They both are, assuming you can get past Nathan’s attitude.” I reach for the bottle of wine sitting on the coffee table. “I can’t get past it, by the way. I mean, I have to for the job’s sake. For Mom’s sake. But, well, you know. Rich assholes just aren’t my thing. Especially when they emphasize the asshole part.”
Fallon plucks an oversized wine glass off the designer coffee table she was so proud to bring home and holds it out for me. I fill it to the top. She widens her eyes when I do the same to mine. “How is your mom? Any better?”
“So much better. This treatment center is going to be everything she needs. I can feel it.”
“And once you get paid, you can afford it.” Fallon arches a brow.
She wasn’t a fan of my decision to enroll Mom in the clinic before the money from Nathan’s project came in. But I couldn’t watch her wither away. Not when help is available. His retainer fee was enough to get her started and I have room in my design schedule to add more clients. I’m not afraid of hard work and I don’t need much sleep. I’d rather be broke and tired, but know she’s taken care of than sit on a pile of money like a dragon protecting its hoard. Besides, it’s not like I do much with my evenings and weekends. Why not fill the time with work?
I arch a brow in return. “Which is why I’m not letting Nathan West bother me.”
“You might consider asking him for your full fee up front. Or at least part of it.”
“Sure. Right. The man is every bit as awful as you made him out to be, and it’s already clear he judges me for being poor. So I should definitely ask him to give me money before the work’s been done, even though our contract clearly states I’ll be paid at the end unless I need to make purchases along the way.”
“You’re the one who enrolled your mom in the program before you had the money.” Fallon holds up her hands. “I know. I know. Her condition was deteriorating. She couldn’t wait. No judgment.”
