Billionaire Novelist 3 : The Wicked Redhead and the Billionaire Novelist(23)

Finally, she smiled and said, "But you're having fun now, right?"

"Yes," I said, and I mostly believed myself.

Todd came out of the bathroom, all steamy and shy, with a towel wrapped around his waist to protect what remained of his modesty.

He gathered up his clothes, his new girlfriend, and they left. We all had an uncomfortable series of hugs and chaste kisses by the door, because the evening wouldn't be complete without more awkwardness.

After they were gone, I walked out onto the patio to look over the city and be with my thoughts.

I was on top of the world, but floating in the vast outer space of my solitude.

I wished I smoked, because the sun was coming up, pink creeping across the horizon, and it would have been a damn fine time for a smoke.

Part 4: À Tout le Monde

In the morning, hungover with lips as dry as paper, I thought things couldn't get any worse, then I crawled out of bed and found a pair of panties stuck to my stomach. Someone else's panties.

I was a college graduate, though, so I used the skills I'd learned during first year, when binge drinking was a required course for freshmen. I brushed my teeth, but didn't spit out the suds. I quaffed them back with a cup of water, jumped up and down a few times, then got down over the toilet and shoved my finger down my throat. Up came the remains of the sins of the previous evening.

"I'm getting too old for this," I muttered to myself.

I took some aspirin, more water, and had a hot shower. As I got dressed and toweled my hair, I felt almost human again. Flashes of the previous evening flitted through my head, the images alternating between turning me on and giving me pulses of dread.

On the other side of my closed bedroom door, Smith was talking to someone-a woman. More than one woman. What the hell? I finished putting myself together and came out, my hair still damp.

He was sitting at the long, formal dining room table, reading the newspaper. To my relief, the women he'd been talking to were cleaning ladies, zipping around the room and tidying up from our party the night before.

Smith peered at me over the top of his newspaper, those blue eyes like an ocean swallowing me whole. "Good morning, princess," he said.

"Princess?"

"There's tea, of course. I think we'll take today off. No writing today."




 

 

I could feel the housekeepers' stares, their salacious curiosity.

"I might run out for a latte," I said.

"I'll have one sent up," he said, reaching for the phone.

"I need some fresh air."

He waved to the open doors. "Patio."

"Smith."

"Tori."

The housekeepers pretended not to be listening, sweeping the same spot on the floor.

"I'm in Montreal," I said. "If we're not working today, I don't want to spend all day in this hotel room."

He folded his newspaper and looked perplexed, ever the gentleman for the benefit of the strangers in the room. "Darling, I have a whole day of sightseeing planned."

"All the more reason for me to whip out and get a proper latte," I said, smiling sweetly. "Darling."

He picked up his tablet and focused on the screen, dismissing me with a wave.

I bypassed the hotel's restaurant, worried I'd run into Rochelle and Todd there, and hurried across the street and down the block. Where was I going? I didn't know, but it felt good to be free of Smith, defying his attempts to control my body and my time.

I found a coffee shop with a shaded outdoor patio, and got myself a rather strong latte.

As I was sipping my coffee, I heard a man flirting with a woman. His voice low and sexy, he said, "Mind if I join you?"

After he repeated himself for the third time, I realized he was talking to me, and it wasn't just any man, but Remi, the sexy golden-curled singer from the night before.

"I know there are other tables," he said, his French accent coming out more in his speech than it had in his singing. "But a person can not blame me for asking such a beautiful woman."

I waved to the seat across from me. "Be my guest."

"Did you have good times last night?" he asked.

"I think so. The concert was really good. You're awesome. I mean you and your band are awesome."

"Ah, yes. It was not our best. I was not my best, but I was distracted." He grinned. "I was very lucky last night, after."

"After? How lucky? Did you bring two or three girls back to your hotel room?"

He laughed, but didn't deny the idea. His blue eyes twinkled, and with his cherubic curls, he looked like a well-disguised devil.

"You must have threesomes all the time," I said.

He shrugged. "Three. Four. Life is for love."

"What's the etiquette? Is it rude to sit back and just watch?"