“Tsk.” Wes clucked his tongue, his megawatt smile intact. His teeth couldn’t be real. In fact, I’d wager his biceps weren’t, either. “I’d be happy to give you a tour sometime. Though I was born and bred in Houston, I sure know Dallas inside out.”
“I’m not planning any trips there.” I stared at the bottom of my empty cocktail glass.
“Then maybe we can meet here, in L.A.” His elbow touched mine. I jerked back immediately.
“Busy schedule, eating all those pies.”
“Don’t be so touchy, Hallion. Business is business, yeah?” He ran a hand through his hair, but that thing was stiffer than concrete. “I thought you’d make a great contestant.”
“You’d make a great taxidermy,” I drawled.
“Tell you what. I’ll work around your schedule. I really think we could benefit each other.”
He was just another person who saw me as a walking, talking meal ticket. He was just another user, and possibly an abuser. People like Wes reminded me why I’d sworn off men. They all wanted something, and that something was never to have an actual relationship with me. I was their leg-up. Their key to unlock an opportunity.
My stomach churned.
I want to go home.
Tragically, I didn’t have one. The mansion was a stack of expensive bricks and nothing more.
“I’ll have my PA contact yours.” I hopped off the stool.
“I don’t have a PA,” he said, confused.
Neither do I. That’s the whole exercise, Einstein.
I signaled Frederik for the check. Screw Keller. I was tapping out. He could mingle with Perry, who did, in fact, sport great new highlights that complemented her cheekbones. I tossed them one last look. Perry’s friends were now asking Keller all kinds of questions about his juicery. He was basking in it. Was I the only one who was upfront about his fake job?
I paid, tipped Frederik forty percent, and made my way out, weaving through people who tried to stop me for a chat. Wes followed me eagerly. He’d officially graduated from a pain in the neck to a stalker.
“Wait, where are you going?” He tried to put his hand on my shoulder. I hissed, shaking him off almost violently.
Don’t touch me. Do not touch me. Never touch me.
“Home.” I quickened my steps. My heels slapped the dark floor.
I loathed myself for forgetting to grab a jacket on my way out of the house. I could use something to cover my boobs with, ensure my breasts weren’t peeking out of the corset. Though now that I thought about it, said boobs weren’t feeling so constrained anymore. Just oddly cold. I looked down and realized why—my right breast had torn through the fabric. It was literally hanging out. Flapping in the wind like a half-mast flag just as I was about to exit the hotel and call myself an Uber.
Gasping, I frantically tried to tuck it back into my dress.
“Man, oh man.” Wes chuckled, leaning against a nearby wall. “Looks like the ladies came out to get some fresh air.”
“Shut up.”
I made a beeline to the hotel reception to see if I could borrow someone’s jacket. There were so many people.Everywhere. And the mask made it impossible to see anything. I ripped it off my face and dumped it on the floor. Panting, I looked around me.
Jacket. I needed a jacket. But this was L.A. People hardly walked around in layers.
A voice beside me soothed, “Don’t be so angry, Hallion. Let me drive you home.”
“No, thanks.” I folded my arms over my chest and strode faster. I was almost at the reception.
“If you ask the concierge for a jacket, they’ll know what happened and sell the story.”
I stopped cold in the middle of the lobby. Wes knew he had my attention.
“Do you really want to be humiliated again? Especially after the pizza stain storyPage Sixpublished about you.” His voice slithered behind me, sinking into my skin like claws.