“Can mimosas be involved?” At the rate this weekend is going, I might be having something stronger than coffee.
“Yeah, I’ll even pay for it. Ready?” I slide my cufflinks in, settle the sleeves, and then grab my jacket.
“Wow, you’re in a really good mood today. Did you just willingly offer to buy me alcohol?” Journey teases. When she was eighteen and in college, calling for a fake ID, I told her no. Then she begged for me to get her alcohol. No fucking way was I doing that. It’s one thing for my kid sister to get it from someone else, but she damn sure wasn’t going to get it from me.
“You’re of age, and you act like I never offer to buy your dinner or drinks when we’re together.”
“Fine, big brother, you can win this argument. I’ll save my breath for some other time.” Journey arches her eyebrow, catching me staring at the security feeds on Celeste in particular.
“Come on, brat, you’ll get to meet her today. Not that anything is going to come of it. So, nice try.” I guide Journey out of my office, fully prepared for the twenty-one questions I know are coming. That doesn’t mean I won’t deflect them, further pissing my sister off. What can I say? It’s what I’m good at.
TEN
Celeste
I thoughtI’d get a reprieve, like maybe have a few passersby between appointments. No such luck. In between facials, consultations, and the walk-ins asking for available products, I’m run off my feet. It’s probably too soon to complain, seeing as how it’s not even eleven o’clock.
“Oh, look, there’s the owner. He’s so hot. I hear he and Vanessa split up,” I overhear one of my new employees chat with another.
“Obviously, judging by the woman on his arm.” This comes from Layla. I’m busy ringing up my latest client who received a facial, along with buying a few skincare items, trying my hardest not to look over my client’s shoulder. The two girls aren’t really being quiet enough considering I can hear them and the client in front of me arches her eyebrows at me.
“Thank you for coming. Your appointment reminder will be emailed and sent as a text.” I attempt to shrug off that the two girls are essentially gossiping. Jesus, I thought they’d have enough common sense not to gossip when a client is present. It’s not like we’re in high school, or even college for that matter, when we have zero common sense along with no filter. These girls know better, especially during hours of operation.
“I’m looking forward to it. Thank you, Celeste.” I smile, and only then do I allow myself to look at what the girls were talking about. That’s when my stomach drops. Layla and Mel weren’t wrong. There’s the man who had me pressed against the elevator bank just a few hours ago, where he kissed me like he wanted me as badly as I wanted him, and the woman standing next to him has me all kinds of worried. My stomach is literally clenching, my knees are wobbling, and a cold sweat coming over me. Tyra and I did some deep digging, diving into as much as we could, never finding a single thing about him possibly having a girlfriend or significant other. I glance at them together, attempting to not openly stare, unlike Layla and Melanie. Their eyes are practically bulging from their sockets. Wylde is in another custom three-piece suit, this one charcoal in color, with a dark blue shirt beneath, black tie, and black shoes to match. The woman beside him, hand placed on his bicep, is beautiful—tall, graceful, auburn hair in a stylish ponytail, cute green dress, and corkscrew wedges. Perfectly matched is what they are. I’m not saying that because of my insecurities about myself, mostly because I’m happy with the way I am. Could I use some work? Of course. Everyone could, and not just on the outside but beneath the surface as well. No, these two are the epitome of what I would describe as a power couple: beauty, grace, understated elegance. They’re the whole freaking package.
“Welcome to Viva la Tranquilitá,” Melanie says as the two walk through the entrance. I’m thankful she does because I swear I’m still trying to gather my wits about me as well as pry my tongue off the roof of my mouth.
“Hello,” she says to all three of us.
“Hello,” I respond. Since I don’t have another client, I’m basically a sitting duck. Layla’s client is due any minute, so she excuses herself. Melanie’s walks through the door asking for her, so she escorts her to the treatment room, leaving me here, alone.
“This place is spectacular, Wylder.” The woman disengages from him and makes her way closer to me. Somehow, I manage to paste on a friendly smile, hopeful it doesn’t look as forced as it feels.
“I think you should be telling Celeste that.” Wylde winks at me. I’m stunned for words. How could he do this to me with his girlfriend or something of the likes standing right in front of me? I’m seething inside. Never in my life would I want to be the other woman or engage in activities to hurt someone else.
“Touché. I’m going to and book an appointment right away. You can leave now. I’m sure you have business to take care of, and I know the way to your office.” They’re clearly more than friends if she knows where Wylde’s office is located and can get in without some top-notch security clearance. When I came for my final interview with Monica and Pierre, it was hinted that Mr. Hayes’ office was off-limits. Clearly, you have to be close in order to even know where it’s at.
“Alright, if I’m not there, I’ll talk to you later. Celeste.” My eyes volley between the two. Wylde’s gaze is lingering on me. The fucking nerve, I swear.
“Bye.” She waves over her shoulder, effectively shutting him out. How that’s possible when he’s invaded my whole life and all in less than twenty-four hours, I have no idea.
“As you know, I’m Celeste, and I’d love to book your appointment. Can you give me a few of your details, like name, phone number, email?” I get down to business.
“It’s great to meet you. I’m Journey Hayes.” If there were a mirror around, I bet I’d be as white as a sheet. There’s no ring on her finger, and there damn sure wasn’t one on Wylde’s last night or this morning. She gives me the information required to book an appointment. My fingers manage to work, but my mind is definitely in a tailspin, and the news I’ll have to share with Tyra is going to make her head swivel on its axis.
“Email and phone number?” She rattles off the information. I look up our next available appointment. Melanie is booked solid. Tyra as well as Layla don’t do facials or skincare; they’re all about massage therapy and are a total godsend with them, too. So, that leaves myself if she wants something soon.
“So, I was thinking, the fire and ice facial to start off,” Journey suggests.
“That’s a great one, and if you see any areas afterwards that you feel like need more attention, we can go from there for your future appointments. Do you have a preference on your esthetician? There’s Melanie; you’d have to wait a few weeks for her. Or I have an opening a week from Tuesday.” Journey’s eyes light up.
“Next Tuesday works. Do you mind if I take a few photos and tag you on Instalook for a before and after?” Even if she’s Wylde’s whatever anyone wants to call it, she is really sweet, and who am I to be upset when it comes to free publicity?
“Absolutely. We love any tags, mentions, or posts. You’re all set. You’ll get an appointment reminder forty-eight hours in advance to confirm.” I smile while dying for this day to freaking end.
“I look forward to it. It was nice to meet you,” Journey says.
“It was nice to meet you as well. Have a great day,” I reply, mentally counting down the hours until I’m done with work. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to let Melanie get her books filled first, though to be fair, I have a more solid client backlist that book months in advance from years of working in this industry, whereas she’s still working hers up. I keep a soft smile on my face until Journey exits the spa. Even then I don’t stop until probably a full two minutes later, worried that my face will say what my mind is thinking. Fuck, I’ve unknowingly stepped into a pile of shit.