Page 56 of Just Not That Into Billionaires

“Why not?” He does the weary-yet-sexy-Italian wave that only Antonio can do, indicating he will have another drink.

“Such a jerk,” I say, continuing the analysis we’ve been having, which could be titled, “Why is Benny such a jerk to me?”

I told them about the fake kiss in the park, but not how intense and great it was, or how sure I was that it was real. I left out how stupidly upset I felt that it wasn’t real. Sometimes I inspect the memory for clues that it was real. The way he sucked in a breath, the way he seemed to lose his suave control at first.

Antonio exchanges a full bottle of beer for an empty with the pretty bartender and giving her his million-dollar smile in the process.

The pretty bartender smiles at Antonio and heads to the other side of the bar.

Tabitha snickers and jabs him mercilessly in the side.

“What?” Antonio protests.

“Rhymes with corn dog,” Tabitha says.

“Mi uccidi con queste cose che dici!” he exclaims. “You’re killing me! You are!”

Jada is just laughing. Both she and Kelsey have had flings with Antonio but have remained fast friends with him. We all tease Antonio mercilessly about his position as most active and popular bachelor in Hell’s Kitchen. What can he say? Heisthe most active and popular bachelor in Hell’s Kitchen and he knows it. He doesn’t even need Tinder; life is his Tinder, with women accosting him nonstop for him to swipe right or left on. His charm and great looks and sexy Italian accent are a bachelor superpower here in Manhattan.

I sit back and sip my new drink. “Benny’s being such a bully.”

I should tell them the truth about the kiss—these are my dear friends, after all. But I didn’t even tell Noelle. I just feel so stupid for how into it I was. And then he turned out to be faking it. A show for neighborhood bystanders.

“And he thinks I’m so into him,” I add. “It’s the worst. Seriously, what kind of person does this?”

“Benny, apparently,” Noelle says. “But really, couldn’t you just reason with him? On this whole forced cohabitation arrangement?”

I shrug. “I haven’t tried that hard, I guess.”

“Interesting,” Noelle says.

“Oh, please!” I say, but she has a point. I can’t recall the last time I felt so alive, so optimistic. I feel this easy camaraderie with him in spite of our animosity—or maybe because of it. All of that sparring and that humor—I’d miss those sparks.

“Mr. Billionaire Bluebeard,” Tabitha says.

“You don’t know the half of it!” I slam down my drink, nearly spilling it. “He literally has a room I’m not supposed to go into, and it’s full of mysterious boxes!” This gets everybody’s attention. I describe the boxes piled up to the ceiling, all the same size. Just this massive jumble of boxes that I’m never to open or even to touch. People are fascinated and excited because it’s deliciously weird. Benny is not like other guys. It’s something I love about him.

“Do the boxes have any kind of writing on them?” Antonio asks.

“Nonsensical letters and numbers. SKU sort of stuff. And they’re all the same size. Large. The size of a washing machine.”

“So let me get this straight,” Jada says in full gossip mode. “One part of the room is completely bare, all pristine floors with some workout stuff, and the other side is full-on hoarder madness?”

“Correctamundo,” I say, shaking my head.

“Washing machine. In other words, human-sized boxes,” Antonio says.

“But it wouldn’t be anything psycho like that,” I say.

“Because you’d smell it,” Jada says.

“There’s always mummified remains,” Antonio says.

“Oh please, stop,” I say. “He’s not like that. I’m thinking more like…maybe a failed invention stuff?” I say. “Benny is really sensitive, and he has exacting standards for himself.”

“But he must need access to whatever is in there, or else why not put it in storage?” Tabitha says. “You don’t buy a kabillion-dollar condo just to stuff it with boxes.”

“Perhaps it’s a great quantity of something he likes to roll in,” Jada says. “Maybe hundred-dollar bills.”

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