Page 42 of Beauty and the Boss Man

I can feel his eyes on me, but I avoid his gaze. “It is what it is. I never knew any different.”

“It still doesn’t make it right.”

“No, it doesn’t,” I mutter, almost too quietly to hear.

“So, I have to ask—if your parents are well-off, what are you doing working for me?” He gives a slight smile as he asks.

“Oh, I was just drawn to your overall sunny disposition.” I return his grin. “Besides, I said my parents were well-off—not that they still are.”

“Does that have anything to do with what you said happened in college that turned your life around?”

I pause once more before responding. I’ve never told this story to anyone besides Veronica. Even the people I hung out with at the time thought I just became a prude because I never told them anything else.

But something about Aiden makes me want to confide in him—to tell him personal things I don’t usually share. I’m still unsure as to whether or not that is a good thing.

We exchange a couple more cards and set down more pairs before I answer.

“When I was in college, my father was arrested for fraud. It turns out all of the money he’d made had come from some very elaborate pyramid schemes. The feds raided my parents’ house and seized everything.”

“Damn,” Aiden says. “I take it there was no money left for your college?”

“Something like that. After shit hit the fan and my father got arrested, my mother claimed she knew nothing, and the cops couldn’t prove otherwise, so she was cleared of any wrongdoing. She filed for divorce and had a new rich husband before the ink on the papers even dried—although she’s probably still fucking whatever pool boy she has. That was always her signature move.

“After my dad was locked up, I refused to go see him, so he started writing me letters. In them, he told me he had some off-shore bank accounts I could take money out of. He gave me the account and routing numbers and told me the money was all mine since he’d probably be locked up for the rest of his life. I only ever wrote him one letter in return. I told him I didn’t want his money, and I’d never touch the accounts. It would always just be a reminder of how he loved money more than he loved me. So, I stopped partying and buckled down. I took out some student loans and have worked my butt off to pay them back.”

We are both quiet for a moment. When we finally break the silence, Aiden is the first one to speak. “Wow, Romy, I—”

But I stop him. “Aiden, I didn’t tell you any of this for pity. That’s the absolute last thing I want.”

He sets his cards down in front of him before speaking again. “Oh Romy, I know damn well you don’t need my pity. And I don’t pity you. On the contrary, I have a crazy amount of respect for anyone who can turn their life around and come out on the other side stronger than before. That takes big brass ones, baby.”

I can’t help but smile a little. It’s crazy how this man can still make me smile even while I discuss the most fucked up event in my life.

But I’m beyond ready to change the subject and get this glaring spotlight off of myself.

“Okay, Boss Man, I believe you asked like six questions in a row.”

He runs his fingers through his dark hair, pushing it out of his face. “Sorry, you’re just too intriguing for your own good.”

“Uh-huh, sure. But since it’s my turn, why don't you tell me what happened with Jane?”

As if the universe steps in, there’s a knock on the door before he can answer me. He stands up to grab our pizza and beer.

I move all of our cards aside to make room to set the pizza on the table before grabbing us each a paper plate. Once he’s back, I put a slice on each of the plates and hand one over.

As I take the first bite, I mutter, “Well, it’s better than the cheeseburgers last night, but I could name at least five pizza places back home who put this to shame.”

“Are you some sort of pizza guru?” He asks, taking a big bite out of his slice.

“Oh, yeah. Remember that thing about how I don’t cook? Most of the pizza delivery drivers know me by name.”

He laughs. “Hey, I get it. I love a good pizza too.”

I open my mouth to tell him that I could show him the best pizza joints in town when we return to Minnesota, but I immediately snap it back closed.

Because this whole thing is temporary. That’s what I wanted and what we agreed to, right? There’s going to be none of this when we go back home. After a week, it all ends.

Sadness washes over me, but I try to push it from my mind. I don’t want to ruin the rest of our week.

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