“Fair enough, I don’t know him that well but—” She trailed off. As though she couldn’t look at me, she buried her gaze in her cup, which gave me enough time to take in her demure dress reaching just below her knees, and the sweetheart neckline that barely revealed any skin. Maybe the fling with Ryan touched her more than I thought, and she couldn’t share my enthusiasm because she had lost faith in all men. If I were lied to, sacked, and disappointed, maybe I’d also start thinking men don’t do relationships. But I didn’t experience her heartbreak, and Jett was nothing like Ryan.
I knew Sylvie meant me no harm; her emotional scars just hadn’t healed yet. I wrapped my arm around her and rubbed her back gently. “Oh, sweetie. Thanks for being such a good friend.”
As if my words broke the ice, a hesitant smile replaced the wary curve of her lips. “You’re happy?”
I nodded. “Happier than I’ve been in a long time.”
“Then I’m happy too.”
Ignoring the sudden lump in my throat, I began to recall my trip to Bellagio, omitting the sex agreement and steamy bits, so I mostly focused on the landscape and beautiful Italian views, the mansion, and Jett.
“Shit, you’re fawning,” Sylvie said as I finally finished.
“Am not.”
Was I?
“That’s what falling in love does to one.”
I had been thinking the same, but to hear the truth coming from her mouth, full of conviction, scared me. Falling in love wasn’t meant to happen so fast…or so intensely.
“I’m not in love.” My voice came out louder than intended. It was a lie. I could hear it, she could hear it. Heck, the whole world probably could.
A few heads turned in our direction. Sylvie waved them to turn away before she focused back on me. Her blue eyes sliced into me with an unnerving intensity, and she leaned closer so no one would hear her. “Listen, darling, I’m sure Jett is a nice guy and all, but he’s also one of the richest men in New York. He might not want to hurt you, but others will. This is a whole different society. Even if you accompany him everywhere, wear and do what people expect of you, you won’t be accepted into their circle because of your background.”
She couldn’t be serious. “What the heck are you talking about? You’re making it sound like I’m getting involved with the Mafia.”
“Worse,” she mumbled.
“What?”
She raised her hands in defense. “Nothing. I just thought I’d warn you.”
“About what?” The whole situation was so funny, I could barely contain my hysteria. Of course she knew everything about rich people and the high society. She had been born into it and spent eighteen years of her life trying to please her mother, before turning her back on it all. Apart from the regular check that came in the post and her fondness for expensive stuff, there were no reminders of her background. She never mentioned her past or family, and I didn’t ask.
“Watch The Real Housewives, and multiply that by ten. And then you might get an idea,” Sylvie said.
I didn’t want to point out she was referencing a reality TV show, and they usually come scripted to their teeth. They don’t film people doing normal stuff, like brushing their teeth and lounging around in their PJs because no one’s interested in that stuff. “I’m so jet lagged I need to get some sleep.” I stood and placed a soft peck on her cheek.
“What about the party?”
I shrugged. “Might be time to send them all home and call it a day.” I loved my friends and appreciated the fact that they turned up to congratulate me on my job and making it back from Europe, alive. But let’s face it, they were more interested in filling up their drinking cups than listening to my traveling stories. “But thanks for this. Did I ever tell you you’re the best friend ever?”
Sylvie crossed her toned arms over her chest, still pouting, but for once she kept quiet. With an apologetic smile, I left for my room and locked the door behind me. I didn’t even bother to change, just stripped off my clothes and snuggled into my cotton sheets, ready to catch up on all the sleep I missed out in the last two weeks. But, as tired as I was, Sylvie’s words kept ringing inside my head. All I could think of was that I was in debt, with no savings left, and there were so many women richer than me, more beautiful, and more successful, who’d kill for a slice of Jett. If someone were to ask me what I could offer him on the long term, apart from my heart, the answer would be: I don’t know.
***
The persistent tugging at my arm, followed by someone calling my name, jerked me out of my sleep. I blinked groggily against the glaring brightness and tried to pull the covers over my head.
“Brooke, wake up,” Sylvie said, yanking my sheets off the bed.
Aware of my half-naked body, I sat up and pulled the sheets back over my breasts to cover my modesty. “What the hell do you want?” My eyes threw daggers at her sheepish expression.
“Sorry.” She wasn’t. “The guy I’ve been telling you about is on the phone. He insisted that I wake you, so—” She trailed off.
I checked my watch and groaned inwardly. I had slept for a mere three hours. “So you, being a good friend and all, risked giving a very tired me a heart attack because some sales shark told you so.”
She shrugged and turned to leave, calling over her shoulder, “He has a nice accent. And he said you’d want to hear what he has to tell you.”
Of course.