Chapter Four

Brooke

It’s almost five a.m. when I push open the kitchen door. By rule, I use the back kitchen door and Stella uses the front door. I find Stella in the sitting room with a coffee and a shit-eating grin on her face. It’s way too early for her to be awake, especially after a night out, so there’s only one thing keeping her up. I’m so embarrassed I face-plant onto the couch and groan.

“It’s okay, you little whore,” Stella says.

I raise my head. “What time did you leave?”

“About the time I realized you were probably not coming back,” she says. “I can’t believe you ditched me for a man you met in the club. I can’t even say that out loud and have it make sense. Little Miss Brooke ‘I love knitting’ ditched me for Xavier Bennett. I’m so proud.” She pretends to wipe a tear.

“Stop,” I say, mortified.

“Why? Do you regret it?”

“I thought I had an intense connection with him, but after seeing your texts, I suppose every girl he’s slept with felt the same way.”

“I suppose.” Stella agrees. “Natalia certainly didn’t hold back. In fact, she sounded jealous, which makes me think she might be on the list of girls. Or wants to be.”

“Jealous? Why would she be?”

“The way he was all over you, babe. Seeing you two dancing together was like watching porn.”

I flush to the roots of my hair. “You’re disgusting, you know that?”

Stella roars with laughter. “What a way to end your dry spell. Speaking of which...” she begins, and I know exactly where this is going.

“I’m not telling you anything.” I look away, and my face heats again as unbidden images flash through my mind.

“Oh my God! Are you blushing?” She moves to look at me.

“I am not!”

“Are too!” She’s giggling like a demented schoolgirl. “How was it? Was it everything I’ve heard about him? Spill, dammit!”

“Depends on what you’ve heard,” I hedge, going toward the bathroom to get my makeup off. She follows me, waiting for more. I get my cleanser out and start dabbing at my face.

“Okay, yes or no questions it is then. Was it good? How big is he? Did he make you come?”

He came inside me. Three times. God, the raw sounds he made while he spurted…

“Brooke?”

“Huh?” I realize I’d frozen with my hand halfway to my face. I resume cleansing and steal a look at Stella through the mirror .

“What?” I say when she continues to give me a knowing smile.

“Your glazed-over eyes say it all.” She takes the pad from my hands and finishes it off. “You had a spanking good time, girlfriend.”

After a pause, she says, “Does that mean we’re going back to Empire soon?”

I snort. “You’re more than welcome to go back. On your own.”

“Did you at least get the guy’s number?”

“I left before he woke up this morning. I didn’t get his number or give him mine. Yesterday was an anomaly. Stella, you know that. And he’s a playboy,” I say with distaste. “You said so yourself. I’m never seeing him again.”

“Alright.” Stella huffed. “At least I can add this to my resume: My best friend hooked up with a billionaire because I styled her .”

I roll my eyes and laugh.

By Thursday, I’d managed to push the events of last weekend firmly from my conscious mind, although my nights were a different matter entirely. Absolute torture, waking up so turned on, remnants of wildly erotic dreams clinging to the edges of my subconscious.

Steve and I negotiated a payment plan of some sort for Fulvio. We agreed to come up with five thousand dollars a month for the next three months, by which time we would have found a way to pay half of the money off. And the rest would be due after another three months. Any default would attract consequences.

Six months to pay off three hundred grand. Great.

Even the five grand a month is more than my entire salary. Although I should only be paying half of that each month while Steve comes up with the rest. If he can. Good luck with that .

So I’ve started taking on extra jobs from private tutoring, babysitting—anything.

I just got back from work, and I’m putting up one of the drawings I got as a gift from my pupils on the corkboard above my desk when Stella comes in.

“Hey. Do you still babysit?” Stella asks.

“I’m taking any job I can get at the moment, so yes.”

“Cool, so Ivy’s sister Coral was babysitting and the kid shaved off her eyebrow.”

“Oh my God! That’s horrible,” I say. Ivy owns an upscale beauty and spa salon in Manhattan. She brings more traffic in by temporarily renting out furnished space in her salon for freelance makeup artists and beauty technicians, which was how Stella got to meet her.

Stella holds up her phone and shows me a girl of about twenty years old with bloodshot eyes and one eyebrow shaved off.

“How did that happen?”

“Coral took a nap on the job,” Stella says, “and the little monster took Daddy’s shaver to her face. Coral unceremoniously quit after only two weeks on the job. Not that I blame her.”

“Anyway”—Stella continues reading Ivy’s message—“the mom is desperate because they need to go out of town this weekend. They need a sitter from eight a.m. to eight p.m. on both days.

“The girl can’t be that bad.” I try to reassure myself, thinking of some of the terrible darlings in the class I teach.

“She’ s offering two hundred an hour.”

“Are you kidding me!” I screech, snatching the phone from her hands to check she’s not pulling my leg. “Hell yes, I’ll do it!”

“What if she shaves off your eyebrows?” Stella looks concerned.

I cover my eyebrows with my hand. “No, she won’t.”

“I’m sure that’s what Coral thought too,” Stella says, reaching to take her phone back.

“So what if she does?” I quickly do the math. “I’d gladly sell an eyebrow in exchange for raking in five grand on a weekend anyway. And you can always sort me a new one.”

“Fair point,” Stella says, and we both laugh.

Stella gives my details to Ivy to pass to the mom, and in a few minutes, I receive the link for a video call.

Zoey Saunders is a stunning brunette with laughing green eyes. I don’t allow myself to think of whose eyes they remind me of but instead focus on giving a good impression.

“Hi, Brooke,” she gushes, “thanks so much for offering to come. I know it’s so last minute, but Lisa’s babysitter is suddenly unavailable, and Dan—my husband—and I need to go out of town this weekend.”

“That’s alright,” I say, already liking her open friendliness.

“Ivy might have told you about the eyebrow incident.” When I nod, she continues. “Lisa is five and isn’t as bad as she sounds. She’s a sweet child, though sometimes she’ll throw a tantrum to get your attention. And you really don’t want her out of your sight for more than two minutes.”

“Lisa sounds delightful.” I smile, and Zoey beams. She’s really beautiful .

Zoey is pleased to learn that I teach at an elementary school. She tells me a bit more about the job.

“Listen, I’d be delighted to hire you. We’re heading out early on Saturday, so if you can get in, say, eight in the morning? Her uncle lives close by, and Lisa has a room there as well, so you can just tuck her in at her uncle’s before you leave.”

She clarifies that I’m happy with the fee (I agree, trying to play it cool) and promises to text the address while I plan to send over my details.

Stella walks back to the living room just as I click off the call. “You got the job?”

“Oh, yes.” I smile.

“Sweet,” Stella says. “I hope the kid doesn’t traumatize you too much.”

“Not a chance. Kids love me.”

“Well, then we have nothing to worry about.”