Page 32 of Adonis: The Cost of a Billionaire's Heart
“Of course, Mr. Holland,” the concierge replied, clearly relieved. “The entire stay will be complimentary, and I’ve arranged for a bottle of our finest champagne to be sent up immediately. Is there anything else I can do for you before I go?”
“That’ll be all,” Adonis answered, waving him off.
After he left, Adonis and I stood in awkward silence, both staring at the king-size bed tucked away inside the bedroom.
“I’ll take the sofa,” I offered, gesturing to the admittedly elegant sectional in the adjoining living area of the suite.
Adonis shook his head firmly. “Cut that shit out, Sim. I’ll take the sofa. You take the bed.”
“You’re like a whole foot taller than me,” I pointed out practically. “Your feet will be hanging off the end.”
“I’ve slept in worse conditions.”
I raised an eyebrow skeptically, but I was genuinely interested in knowing the answer. “When? And I’m not talking about sleeping on anything with a thread count less than a thousand.”
To my surprise, he almost smiled. “During my college years at Howard, actually. I once slept on a bench in the library for three days straight while finishing a project.”
“Still,” I insisted with a semi-playful eye roll. “The sofa makes more sense for me. I’m smaller, and I can sleep anywhere—a skill you develop as a parent.”
“Point taken, but I’m the man. It’s my job to give you the better sleeping arrangements to ensure you’re comfortable at all times.”
We were still going back and forth about it when room service arrived with the bottle of complimentary champagne. The server gave us an amused look as he caught the tail end of our debate.
“Newlyweds?” he guessed as he wheeled the cart inside and proceeded to pop the cork on the chilled bottle.
“Engaged,” Adonis corrected him automatically.
The server grinned, pouring two glasses. “Nice. Well, congratulations. Enjoy the suite and champagne.”
After he left, Adonis handed me a glass. “I guess we might as well toast.”
“To what?”
“To the almost-end of our arrangement,” he toasted quietly, raising his glass. “Tomorrow, Garrick will sign the contract, and by tomorrow night, you’ll have your payout, and you and Mason can return to your normal lives. We’ll both get exactly what we wanted out of this.”
I took a sip, the bubbles tickling my nose as they always seemed to do. “I don’t know why, but normal seems like a strange concept after this week,” I admitted.
It truly did. In just seven days, I’d attended a charity gala where I mingled with celebrities, dined at restaurants where the menu had no prices, stared at professional photos of myself wearing designer clothes on the red carpet, looking like, “Mama, I made it,” and had a closet full of pricey dresses that had me thinking I was on an episode of MTV’sCribsfrom back in the day. I’d been “engaged” to one of the most powerful men in New York, maybe even the country, and played the role so convincingly that even skeptical critics commented on how well-suited Adonis and I seemed for each other.
“You’ve adjusted extremely well,” Adonis observed, loosening his tie as he sank into an armchair in the living room. He looked tired, the long day of travel and meetings etched into the lines around his cognac brown eyes. “This lifestyle isn’t for everyone.”
“It’s not real life, though. At least not mine,” I reminded him and myself simultaneously. “When all of this is over, I go back to job hunting and worrying about Mason’s medical bills from that emergency room visit, and you, . . . well, I don’t know whatyou’ll be doing. Probably taking over the world,” I said with a half smirk.
“If money were no object, what would you want to do with your life? What would be your purpose?” he inquired before taking a sip from his glass.
I scoffed. “Says the guy with weekly Chanel bag money.”
Adonis grunted. “I’m serious, Sim. Don’t talk to me like I’m famous right now. Be real.”
“But that’s exactly what you are. I watched you spend my salary on a coat yesterday.”
“Winter’s coming, right?”
“See,” I replied, rolling my eyes. “Famous.”
“Nah. Not right now. Not in this moment.”
I sighed. “I already have a purpose. His name is Mason Campbell. But outside of that, I always wanted to . . . I don’t know. Well, I do, but I don’t want to say it.”
