Page 4 of Billionaire Devil

“Yeah.” She lived down the street from us when we were teenagers. We used to go to the Santa Monica pier together sometimes.

“You know how she was always baking cupcakes and started that cupcake business a while ago?”

“I think I remember you mentioning it.”

“Well, she’s offered to make our wedding cake.”

“Great.”

“And since she offered to make the cake, I invited her to the wedding. She asked if she could bring…a plus one.”

“Is that a problem?”

“She said…” Jessie pauses. “I’m just going to blurt this out because I don’t know how else to say it, but her plus one is Troy Beckett. She’s been dating him off and on and…he’s coming to the wedding. They’re not exclusive. She said they’re ‘friends with benefits’. That’s how she put it.”

I feel myself pale. “Oh.”

“I just wanted to tell you, so you weren’t caught off-guard or anything. But you’re over him now, right? That was a long time ago.”

“Of course,” I laugh breezily. “Are you kidding? As if I’d still be pining for that loser.”

“Thank God.” She sounds relieved. “I knew that. I just wanted to make sure.”

“Don’t give it another thought.”

“Okay. Good. I better go. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Bye, Jess.”

We end the call.

Fuck.

Iamover that loser. Totally. It’s ridiculous that I ever loved him in the first place. He hardly even gave me the time of day and I hate that I wasted so much of my life on him. Isavedmyself for him, all through college. Hoping maybe he’d notice me. Fantasizing that maybe once he got to know me, he’d fall in love with me and leave all the others behind.

Which means I’m a huge sucker and a complete idiot.

And I’m basicallystillsaving myself for him—notintentionally, but it’s not like I’m out on the town every weekend picking up men. I’m too busy working.

I also hate that my heart is beating faster at the thought of seeing him again.They’re not exclusive? Does that mean…maybe, just maybe, there’s a chance that he might finally…

Stop it.

I force myself to snap out of it. I’ve given way too much of my energy to that black hole of a not-even-close relationship. I can’t allow myself to spend another second of angst or longing on a guy who’s never treated me like anything more than a piece of furniture.

Snap out of it, girl! You’re better than that.

Of course I am. I’ve moved on. I’m a strong, independent woman, taking the world by storm.

Who’s also thinking of giving up on her dream of making it in New York because it’s lonely and nearly impossible to get ahead. And who still hasn’t met anyone else because she spends all her time striving like a madwoman but basically getting nowhere.

Anyway, I’mtryingto take the world by storm, that’s got to count for something.

I sigh, without meaning to.

My phone ringsagain and this time it’s Sloane. The one and only true friend I’ve made since I’ve been here.

“Hey, Sloane.” She came into the restaurant one night with friends, soon after I started working at the restaurant. Ijust happened to be finishing my shift. We ended up having a drink together because she complimented the skirt I’d made and we talked for hours. It felt good to find a friendship that was so easy and spontaneous. She’s bubbly and outgoing and fun. She lives in Chelsea and sometimes, if my schedule allows—which has only happened twice—I’ll take the Jitney into the city and meet her for a drink somewhere.

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