Page 84 of Sweet Animosity

Why did arrogant, incredibly hot, confident, and obscenely rich men have to be so darn attractive?

It wasn’t fair.

With a sigh, I got out of the Jacuzzi. After using a towel to dry off, a towel to squeeze the water from my hair, another one to wrap my hair, another one to wrap around my hips, another one to wrap around my torso, and a final one to carry just because, I was satisfied I had deliberately used all of his clean towels and padded down the hall back to his bedroom.

Just inside the doorway was a rack filled with lovely clothes and another rack with purses, belts, and scarves, as well as boxes of shoes. Taped to the brass railing was a note telling me to select whatever I liked and they’d send someone to retrieve the rest the next day.

There were tops and skirts and dresses and gowns and cute jackets.

And the cutest designer purses and shoes to match it all.

I spent over two hours playing Barbie.

Then, after selecting a classic Chanel tweed that I’d always wanted to own, I glanced between the clothing rack and Var’s closet.

I leaned back to look down the hallway to make sure no one, especially Var, was suddenly popping out of the elevator.

I bit my lip. Did I dare?

Then anger rose in my chest as I remember how he’d burned my paintings.

He owed me.

Going into his closet, it only took me a few moments to find two large Louis Vuitton wardrobe traveling trunks. The amazing vintage ones that cost the equivalent of a car and that were only seen in old black and white films.

Perfect.

Flipping both lids open, I started with the purses.

Later, I called down to Oona. “Hello again. I’m going to need a porter. And a taxi, please.”

“Right away, Ms. Peyton.”

Before I hung up, I said, “Oh, and you can tell Bloomingdale’s there is no need for someone to collect the clothes. I kept it all.”

“Well, don’t you look fabulous!” said Barb as I entered their apartment.

Millie came rushing into the living room, then twirled her fingers. “Give us a spin.”

I obliged, showing off my pink and black Chanel ensemble.

“Very nice.”

“Is this from the new man in your life?”

I shrugged as I placed my Chanel classic leather quilt with chain strap purse on the kitchen island. “Sort of. And he’s not my man.”

Barb shook her head. “We were so hoping you’d finally started behaving like the beautiful young woman you are and lived a little. Sweetie, you need a man in your life. They are a pain in the ass most of the time, but they are good for some fun.”

I lifted my chin. “As it so happens, I met a guy at the club last night.”

There was no point in mentioning it was before another douchebag grabbed me and then Var showed up, kicked that guy’s ass, and dragged me out while I was high on some kind of dancing green alien pot. Or the part about fucking on the kitchen floor on top of a banana split sundae.

Nope. I’d take those details to the grave.

And if I were completely honest, I only sort of met another man.

His name was Bob.

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