Page 14 of The Rich One

“Oh, I know, it’s mortifying.” I lower my head slightly, feigning embarrassment, when really, I’m just trying to hide the smirk I can’t control. “We just… you know how it is when you’re in the honeymoon period. You just can’t keep your hands off each other.” I accidently let a giggle slip, but it has the desired effect and works with the attitude I’m trying to portray.

“Yeah, well it won’t last for long. Why do you think I jumped ship? He’s not all he says he is, you know.” She’s acting like she knows things I don’t, secrets that could break me when really, it’s none of my fucking business.

My shrug clearly isn’t the response she wanted.

“I don’t trust you. And I won’t stop until I find something to ruin you. So you better watch out.”

Woah, where did that come from? I’ve been perfectly pleasant to the psycho cunt, and she hits me with this shit?

“Look…” I lose the innocent shy girl attitude I’ve been giving her. “I don’t know where this animosity is coming from. You cheated on him,with his best fucking friend.You didn’t want him any more. You have no right to interfere in the here and now, so keep your plastic fucking nose out of other people’s business.”

The shock on her face is evident—wide eyes and flaring nostrils—she didn’t expect me to bite back.

Interesting.

She’s clearly just testing the waters, seeing what she can get away with, and it isn’t a fucking lot. While I’m working, my clients are a priority. But if she thinks she can threaten me like that, she’s lost her goddamn mind.

Also, she’s pissed me the fuck off.

Deep breaths, River.

Before anything else is said, Cora stands from her chair, nose in the air, and heads toward the guys, draping herself over Brett as they talk with the manager.

Well, I guess she’s done talking then.

Finally able to relax, I sit back and take my time admiring the room. It really is stunning. The fairy light theme has continued inside as well as out, and I love it. Some are gently twinkling, making it look like the night sky against the black cloth of the canopy.

My small bag vibrates twice against my hip, the chain over my shoulder keeping it in place. Two vibrations means it’s a message on my personal phone. Do I really want to look at it right now?

I’m not one for shoving my head in the sand, so yeah, I’m looking. But if it’s him, he can wait until I’m home before I reply. I just don’t have the brain capacity to deal with that over the phone. A face-to-face conversation is needed.

Unknown:Watch your back, whore.

It’s not him.

CHAPTERSIX

With the weekend over and my wallet thicker, I put on my bad bitch panties and spend the mandatory twenty-five minutes on the ferry to Staten Island.

Any respectable Manhattanite knows that too much time spent in the suburbs kicks that biological clock into working mode. Personally, I just don’t like the quiet, somewhat peaceful, life of the Forgotten Borough—their nickname, not mine. The last nine years have been pretty chaotic, and I guess I’m just used to the hustle and bustle of the busy city streets.

My short hair whips left and right with the wind as I watch the space between me and the Financial District grow wider with every minute. I love living here. The constant murmur of life reassures me, a welcomed companion on nights where all I have is my Netflix queue. My building is small and recently renovated to conform to city regulations. Though rats and leaky ceilings are typically frowned upon, they’re not impossible to find, either.

Everest never liked living in the city. To be honest, I’m surprised they settled down in Staten Island. I thought maybe they’d buy a little house somewhere at the foot of the Appalachian Mountains or on the coast so they could meditate and do yoga on the beach. I suspect it has something to do with me, and not wanting to wander off too far. Kai lives over here as well, so that helps.

Kai.

Fuck.

We’ve known each other for the better part of our lives, which means I can practically anticipate every one of his moves. I know everything about him; his passions and his turn-offs, I know his recycled jokes that I can imagine him using on his kids one day. Fucking dad jokes. He’s not even thirty yet, and sometimes sounds like he’s fifty and trying to sound cool with his teenage sons.

This conversation is going to be hard. He’ll be shocked, pissed even, and maybe a little disappointed, but when the shock wears off, he’ll come around and we’ll have an adult conversation about my life choices. Then we’ll either fuck, or drink ourselves into a stupor and then fuck. I imagine he’ll come up with a dozen reasons why I shouldn’t be doing this job, and then another dozen solutions so I can stop.

Kai is a fixer and there’s no doubt in my mind that he’ll try to “fix” this. Fixme.

That’s the crux of the problem right there. I don’t need to be fixed. I don’t need to be saved or swept away. I’m doing what needs to be done to take care of my family, and Everest—bless his free-loving heart—is my only blood.

I turn at the sound of laughter and smile at the little boy blowing bubbles into the salty air. Every time one pops, he belts out a laugh so free and real it makes my heart squeeze. His mother is laughing with him but she’s not looking at the bubbles, she’s looking at him. She’s watching and waiting for that majestic sound to erupt from his mouth. Like she lives for it. Like she’s teetering at the edge of a cliff and his happiness is the only reason she doesn’t fall off. The bags under her tired eyes are put in sharp relief by the harsh sun, her clothes are simple and tattered at the edge of her sleeves. Her hair is up in a messy bun, and not the kind you get from a tutorial on TikTok. The real kind. The bun that you definitely did not work fifteen minutes on to give you a certain type of look.

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