The Virgin & The Bad-Boy Billionaire(10)
When we touch down on the landing pad, I still haven’t recovered. Landing pad. He has his own landing pad. Why did he ask me on this date? I can’t be a typical match for him. Surprisingly, I’m actually a bit more excited than nervous for once. I’m interested in seeing where this is going.
“Here, let me help you out,” Matthew offers, hopping the ground like he’s casually stepping out of a cab. He extends his hand, but when I reach for it he leans in and picks me up, swirling me out of the helicopter by the waist and safely placing me on the ground. A supernova of the media’s flashing cameras go off before my eyes, temporarily blinding me as I clutch his arm. Second thoughts cloud my mind. What am I doing here? What kind of game is he playing? One look at his aqua blue eyes and his knowing smile and my reservations melt away. I guess there’s only one way to find out.
“Matthew! Darling! It’s been too long. Don’t you look debonair?” A tall, white, platinum blond woman immediately finds us in the crowd of back-patters and hand shakers, double kissing Matthew’s cheeks like she’s in a movie.
“Marjorie, I believe it’s only been a month, hasn’t it? At the Rosenberg wedding?”
“Oh, yes, yes, of course. Wasn’t that something else? I heard that they spent over a million on the reception alone and guess what? The happy honeymooners are already talking about an annulment, can you imagine?”
“That’s unfortunate. Marjorie, this is my date tonight, Kendra Cole. Kendra, this is Marjorie, she’s an old friend.”
“An old friend? Is that what I’ve been downgraded to now?” Marjorie pushes her pillowy lips in a practiced sulk. “Can’t a woman get any credit for taking you off the market for three years?” She winks at him and gives his arm a playful squeeze before finally looking at me for the first time since she approached us. “Well, aren’t you just darling?” She trails her green eyes over me. “Where did you find this one, Mattie?”
Excuse me? I’ve known this woman for less than five minutes, and I already want to punch her frail-looking throat.
“Now Marjorie, what have I told you about playing nice with others?” Matthew scolds her.
“Oh, she knows I’m just teasing, don’t you… I’m sorry what was your name again?”
“It’s Kendra.”
“Right, Kendra knows I’m kidding, don’t you?” She doesn’t actually look in my direction or wait for my answer. “Don’t be so uptight, Mattie.” She purrs at him, like a cat in heat.
“As I was saying, Kendra is finishing up her masters of business at Columbia.”
“Well, I didn’t think she was majoring in fashion.” She laughs loudly at her joke. I tug at the hem of my dress and grit my teeth together.
“I said enough already.” Matthew’s eyes narrow and his jaw clenches tight sucking the wind out of Marjorie’s sails. I have to say, it’s pretty satisfying to watch the emotions battle it out on her face. For a second, I think she might even cry, but she pulls it together with a pasted on smile.
“Well, I should really start mingling a bit more anyway, just wanted to say hello,” her voice flat now. “It was so nice to meet you, Kendra.” She spits out my name like venom.
“The pleasure was all mine, Maggie.” I smile as earnestly as I can manage and walk away on good old Mattie’s arm as she fumes.
“Haha, I’ll have to remember to stay on your good side. Women like Marjorie expect to be remembered, that’ll eat her up.” Matthew smiles at me approvingly, and I feel weak in the knees, and it isn’t because I’m hungry.
If I’ve learned anything tonight, it’s that wealthy people love to talk. I’ve been sitting at this dinner table for hours, being brought endless bite-sized courses of food that looks like art, and I still don’t even know what charity this event is being held for. It isn’t for a lack of speeches, it would seem that everyone has an important announcement or needs to toast Matthew for one thing or another. It’s just getting boring. Not to mention the other problem I’m having. My bladder wasn’t made for sitting through an eternity of bloated, old white men with even more bloated wallets, spewing hot air. I keep waiting for a polite time to slip away and find the restroom, but as soon as one of them sits down there’s another just clamoring to grab the mike next.
Finally, I see my opportunity. The man who just finished talking about himself for thirty minutes is about to hand off the microphone to an elderly man being assisted onto the stage. Just from how slow he walks, I know if I don’t skedaddle now, I might wet myself.