Page 7 of Filthy Rich

He’s already looking at me and raising his glass. “Cheers.”

“Cheers,” I say.

We clink, but I don’t sip. Partially because I’m way too happy that he’s engaging with me again, and that’s a concern, and partially because I have no idea how much this glass of champagne is about to cost me. God knows my poor little budget is already stretched to the breaking point.

“What’s wrong now?” he says, lowering his glass and frowning.

“She didn’t ask for my credit card,” I say, feeling sheepish. “I’m just wondering how much this is going to run me.”

“Don’t worry,” he says, his expression clearing. “It’s all free.”

I feel a wild swoop of relief.

“Good to know. I don’t want to give Mrs. Hooper a reason to dock my pay for unauthorized expenditures.” I take a sip and experience the first oral orgasm of my life. Nectar of the gods indeed. “Wow. This is delicious.”

He seems pleased for a millisecond as he sips his own drink and watches me over the rim. But then he lowers his glass and grimaces. “Mrs. Hooper. She seems like fun.”

I almost laugh. I’m grateful to have an ally who understands what it’s like being Mrs. Hooper’s minion. On the other hand, she’s been very good to me, all things considered, and she’s the closest thing I have left to a familial figure of any sort. Not that I delude myself into thinking she feels the same about me. Still. I don’t know where I’d be right now if she hadn’t hired me when she did, and that counts for something.

“She’s a lot, but she’s not all bad,” I say.

He studies me a little closer. “You’re loyal. How long have you been with her?”

“Part time or several months but only two weeks full time. Ever since I graduated and passed my boards.”

“Congratulations on that, by the way.”

“Thanks,” I say, beaming with pride that it’s all over and I managed to do it against all odds. I’m an RN now. I have the paperwork to prove it.

“What school?”

My pride bubble deflates. Just a bit. Hanging out with Mrs. Hooper and her snooty friends does that to a person. Everyone in that crowd thinks it’s a disgrace if your entire education from preschool on up runs you less than a hundred K or so per year. Scholarships and work study programs count for less than nothing.

“City Tech.”

I wait for him to register dismay that I didn’t attend some expensive private school like he probably did, but he seems legitimately pleased for me. And something inside me warms even further.

“I get the feeling working with her doesn’t stretch your medical skills.”

“It really doesn’t,” I say, laughing. “I’m mostly a companion and dog wrangler.”

“Why not get a real job?”

“I have a real job. I’m starting as an oncology nurse in the fall— Hang on. My hospital has something called the Winter Family Center for Reproductive Health. That’s not your family, is it?”

“Eh,” he says around another sip of his scotch, and that’s the only answer I get other than the flush creeping over his cheekbones.

But Cara appears with a helper in time to save us from another awkward moment. They whip out white linen tablecloths and cover our tray tables with a flourish.

White. Linen. Tablecloths.

“Cheese plates and caviar plates,” she says, setting them down. “I’ll be right back with refills of your drinks.”

I eyeball my still mostly full glass of champagne and keep my mouth shut. I deserve a refill, especially if it’s free. After all, I’m on semi-vacation, right?

“And have you had the chance to decide what you’d like for dinner?” Cara continues.

“She’ll have the vegan plate,” Lucien tells Cara?—

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