Penelope glared in her direction, looking as annoyed as I felt about her intrusion.
“Here,” I said, pulling the envelope from my pocket. “Here’s a better story for you. It’s an exclusive.”
She took it from my hands and walked away as quickly as she’d appeared.
I returned my attention to Penelope—getting aroused at her puffy pink lips all over again.
“Are you going back to his place tonight?” I asked.
“Probably.” She stepped closer, lowered her voice. “We’re not having sex.”
“I know.”
“How?”
“You would’ve told me.”
Before I could ask her anything else, Simon moved between us and slipped his arm around her waist. He kissed her cheek and whispered, “Sorry for leaving you alone.”
“Good evening, Hayden.” He smiled at me. “Nice to see you again.”
“Likewise.” I extended my hand. “I’ve been hearing good things.”
“Most of them are true.” He smiled. “We have reservations at The Murray across town after this. I’d invite you to join us, but I’ve heard that they’re sticklers when it comes to sticking to the reservation number.”
“I’m sure they’ll make an exception for the owner.”
“Oh. Well, in that case … ” He pressed a kiss against Penelope’s cheek. “Want to join us after the play?”
“Looking forward to it.”
I made it to The Murray and requested the table right next to the windows. I wasn’t sure why I agreed to this; I never wanted to be around any of her boyfriends.
Probably just to see her lips again.
As I was ordering glasses of water for the three of us, a roar sounded on my left. A bright red Ferrari swerved a U-turn in the middle of the street, swinging its way into a spot.
Simon stepped out of the car and walked over to Penelope’s side.
The patrons at the window “Oohed” and “Ahhed” as he helped her out. Photogs snapped pictures; people whispered and wondered about who they were.
Penelope’s eyes met mine, and they made their way over.
You are really fucking gorgeous. I stared at her as she walked.
I stood up to pull out the seat next to me, but Simon pulled out the other one. The one across from me.
He took the one between us.
“Was the second half of the play as good as the first?” I asked.
“It was all phenomenal,” Pen said. “Ten-star show.”
“Nice to know. I’ll have to get tickets someday.”
“Penelope was telling me that you own the IMAX Theater in Times Square,” Simon said it as more of a question. “You also dabble in real estate and restaurant chains?”
“Yeah,” I said. “My advisor suggested that I do that years ago.”
“I wish I could branch out like that.” He smiled. “My investors want me to focus on the fund and nothing else, but maybe one day they’ll let me.”
Thankfully, the waiter appeared before I could respond to that. She set down menus and a basket of bread, rattling off the chef’s special for the night.
“Will this be one check or three, Mr. Hunter?” she asked.
“One,” Simon and I said in unison.
“You should let me pay for it,” he said, placing a roll onto Penelope’s plate. “I mean, I was planning to treat Penelope to dinner anyway.”
“Fair enough.” I looked at the waitress. “One check.”
“I’ll return shortly to take down your orders.” She walked away.
“I’d like the oysters,” Penelope said, standing to her feet. “I’ll be back.” She shot me two winks and a smile, our shared “Check him out for me” signal before stepping away from the table.
We both stared at her until she disappeared around the corner.
“So,” Simon said, clearing his throat. “Penelope was telling me that you have an obsession with watches. I couldn’t help but notice the Yachtmaster on your wrist. Is that one of your favorites?”
“Yes.” I picked up my water. “Are you into watches as well?”
“Very much so.” He held out his wrist. His watch was the same as mine with a few adjustments.
“Very nice.” I was impressed. “How long did it take the designers to craft that?”
“Longer than I expected, but their new designer is a friend of mine,” he said. “She lets me have access to all of the newest ones before release.”
I raised my eyebrow. None of the watch designers I knew would let any customer request adjustments before the accessory was released. No matter how wealthy he or she was.
“Don’t tell anyone.” He must’ve read my mind. “She’s not supposed to do that and the design house would let her go if it got out.”
“I wouldn’t dare,” I said. “She’s willing to risk her status, just because you’re friends?”
“Because her husband is my friend and I’m the reason they’re married,” he said. “It’s strictly platonic. Are you and Penelope like that?”
“Married?”
“Platonic.”
“She’s dating you, isn’t she?”
He picked up his glass and took a slow sip.
“Nice Ferrari,” I said, needing to change the subject.
“Thank you. I saw your car collection in GQ this month. I was shocked that you didn’t reveal any custom ones.”