Now listen, Shay. You have to promise me. No more being depressed, okay? It's my birthday. The least you can do is act like you're having fun." Chelsea pushes me through the entrance of the chic Beverly Hills hotel bar, her hand on my elbow and her head tilted toward me. Jen and Angel are ahead of us. The three are dressed to the nines, with stiletto heels, colorful clothes and teased hair. They look fantastic. A flock of flamingos looking for single men. I'm the crow of the group, all in black and with a sense of humor to match. I'm only here because we're celebrating Chelsea's birthday. If it were up to me, I would be at home, in bed, with the covers pulled over my head. The things we do for our friends. "I'm having fun," I lie happily. "That club we just left was so fun." She squeezes my elbow. "Maybe you should say that to your face. That smile is tragic. Stop thinking about the idiot. Hearing the nickname she gave my ex, I shudder. "Please don't call him that." "He deserves to be called much worse. Stop defending him. And every time you miss him, remember there are plenty of fish in the sea." "Do you know what else is in abundance in the sea? Trash." "Listen, the only way to get over a man is to get over a new one. That will fix things. "I need a new man like I need a cockroach infestation." She cackles in disapproval. "Don't let one bad apple turn you away from the whole apple tree. You'll find Mr. Right eventually. In the meantime, let's find Mr. Well Endowed so you can let off some steam. We follow Jen and Angel, entering the lounge. Outside, it's a typical Los Angeles summer night, the air balmy, the palm trees swaying and the stars twinkling, but here it's cool and dark. All of the city's upscale hotel bars have the same intimate, night-lit atmosphere. candles. It's as perfect for a negotiation meeting between studio executives as it is for a couple of married lovers to have a cocktail before retiring to their room. What's different about this place – and the reason Chelsea chose it – is that has a reputation for being the hangout for the richest men in town. If I've heard it from her once, I've heard it a thousand times: "It's just as easy to fall in love with a rich man as it is with a poor one." She might be looking for love , but I'm looking for peace of mind. My ex was hell for my sanity. I look back at the dark-haired man in the booth against the wall. He's still looking at me. The hunger in his gaze makes my heart beat faster. When he licks his full lips, a small shiver of desire runs through my body. But I look away and flip my hair over my shoulder. The last thing I need right now is the attention of a hot stranger who seems to be the cause of many women's therapy bills. I already have my own demons to deal with. I don't need another one. Cole he brunette is interesting. T Not because she's pretty, although she is. But there are a million beautiful girls in this city. Los Angeles is known for its beautiful women. What makes her interesting is the way she behaves.
Chapter 1 I don't feel
over her soul. Fascinated by the contradiction, I can't look away. Dressed in a black skirt, black blouse and black heels, she parades through the entrance of the bar with three other women. Her companions are wearing brightly colored dresses, laughing and talking as they enter, but the brunette is silent. She scans the room, assessing the place and the people in it. Her smile is small and cold, as if she's already bored. She catches me looking at her, but quickly looks away. When she looks back again, I look straight at her and lick my lips. She raises her eyebrows.
Then she flips her hair over her shoulder, lifts her chin and looks away, dismissing me. Smart girl. She knows a monster when she sees one. Shay "Wouldn't it be amazing if this existed in real life? An eight-foot-tall blue alien with two huge dicks who is totally obsessed with me? Yes please!" Angel laughs and takes another sip of her margarita. "Only if he's also a billionaire," Chelsea says, laughing into her martini. Jen shakes her head in disbelief. "You guys and your monstrous books. I just don't understand the appeal." Angel snorts. "Excuse me, Judgy McJudgerson, but you're in no position to be snobbish about other people's literary choices. May I remind you that your favorite TV show is a cartoon? Jen rolls her eyes." First of all, monster smut is not literature. Second of all, BoJack Horseman is one of the most brilliant..." "Dark comedies ever written, blah, blah, blah, yes, you've told us a thousand times," Angel cuts in. "It's still a cartoon." The argument continues, but I've already hung up. The four of us are sitting at a round table in the middle of the room. We are surrounded by beautiful people on all sides. The couple at the table behind me is discussing Tahoe or Tulum over their next vacation spot . Two young models pass by, taking selfies as they go. Customers jostle for position at the bar, trying to catch the eye of the handsome bartender who I recognize as an extra from the television series Succession . And sitting at the only table next to the bar, the stranger with the hair The dark men are still looking at me. It's strange how such a handsome man can give off such an unpleasant vibe. He's a black hole there, extinguishing all the light around him. It seems like he would refuse to smile even if someone put a loaded gun in in his head and order him to do it. He's probably thinking the same thing about me. Chelsea sighs. "Shay, seriously! Stop frowning. This is scaring all the hot guys." "Not all of them," Angel observes, looking toward Mr. Dark and Stormy. Chelsea turns in her seat and squints. "Who, that guy in the booth?" "Yes. He's been fucking Shay since we got here. I chide, "Chelsea, for God's sake, don't look at him." "Why the hell not? He's fine." She sends him a wide smile. The look he sends her back is so icy it could break a stone. With a low whistle, she turns to us. "Wow. Ten for face, zero for personality." "Maybe his dog died," says Angel. Chelsea looks at me and jokingly suggests, "Maybe you should go over there and cheer him up." "Very funny." "It wasn't a joke." "Give me one good reason why I would like to talk to that man." "Because it's my birthday and I want you to do it." She smiles and takes another sip of her drink. My heart sinks. She always smiles like that when she's about to dig in her heels. The last thing I want right now is to be on the wrong side of her stubbornness. "He does not want to talk to me." "I bet his dick does that." "If his dick has the same personality as its owner, I'm not interested." "Give it a break, girl. No one is asking you to marry him. Just go there and talk to him! "So I can be publicly humiliated when he throws his drink in my face and tells me to get lost? No thanks." "I bet you a hundred dollars he doesn't throw his drink in his face." "No." "Please?" "No." "Please?" "No." "Come on. If you don't do it for yourself, do it for me." "This is blackmail." She widens her eyes innocently. "Remind me again whose birthday it is?" When I make a sour face but don't respond, she's going to kill me. Leaning forward, she smiles. "If you go talk to that guy, I promise I'll stop calling Chet an idiot. In fact, I will never say anything mean about him again." I pause to examine her expression. She looks serious, but Chelsea is slippery. She will conveniently forget this conversation in the morning if it suits her. "Okay, you're on. But you have to record yourself saying it and send it to the group text." "Why?" "Permanent evidence. If you break the agreement, you will have to buy me, Jen and Angel new iPhones." Jen and Angel scream with laughter, but Chelsea's eyes widen in horror. "What?" My smile is relentless. "Deal or no deal, birthday boy?" "That's about three thousand!" Knowing she'll agree eventually, and sooner if I act like I don't care, I shrug and take a sip of my whiskey. Displeased, she snorts. "Okay, fine. You're connected. But you have to stay there and talk to him for at least ten minutes." I look his way. He looks at me, his gaze intense and unwavering. Storm clouds roil over his head. The idea of addressing all that negative energy and trying to start a conversation is scary, but if it makes Chelsea stop with your smear campaign against my ex, it's worth it. I've been putting up with this for three months and I'm tired. "I'll try, but I can't guarantee anything. It seems like he bites. Angel laughs. "If you're lucky, he does." "Okay, you win. Here goes nothing." I sigh heavily and drink the rest of my whiskey. Rising from my chair, I smooth my skirt with my damp palms, then walk across the room with my chin high and my shoulders square, feigning a confidence I don't feel. Dark and Stormy watches me approach with all the heat of a hired assassin. The moment I stop next to his desk, I decide to tell him the truth instead of a cute opening line. In my current state of mind, I doubt I could come up with one anyway. "Hello. I don't want to be here. He looks me up and down, his gaze slowly traveling down my figure. After a moment, he says in a hostile tone, "But here you are." We stare at each other in a silent strangely tense, as if we're both waiting for the other to say something and we think whatever it is, it's going to be horrible. Finally, I say, "It's my girlfriend's birthday." A crease forms between her dark eyebrows. "I don't understand the connection between that and you standing there." "She promised me she would stop talking bad about my ex if I would talk to you." He thinks about it for a moment. "This is blackmail." "When it comes to Chelsea getting what she wants, all means of coercion are in play." He looks past me. "Which one is Chelsea?" "The blonde." "She seems harm
Chapter 1 I don't feel
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Chapter 2 Just everyone
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Chapter 3 oved by fictional
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Chapter 4 It's a happy
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Chapter 5 Am I sweating
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Chapter 6 She is absolute fucking
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Chapter 7 I thought yes
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Chapter 8 Just gloating
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Chapter 9 way with words
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Chapter 10 Holding my head steady
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Chapter 11 room with only good
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Chapter 12 accept
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Chapter 13 I don't want to make it seem like
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Chapter 14 receptionist is Shay
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Chapter 15 eyes and listen to my heartbeat
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