Page 5 of The Rich One

“Yeah, but I swear it’s for tonight.” Biting my lower lip, I realize I’m acting a little coy, which is so far from normal for me that I quickly school my features.

“Dinner for one?” Is he…?

“Questo è tutto?” I mentally thank Francesca for the interruption as she asks me if that will be all.

“Si, grazie. E questo è tutto.” And it is absolutely all I need. In fact, I do not need another gorgeous, complicated man in my life. Even if it’s just at my corner grocer.

“E molto buono, bella.Bella fatica. It’s very good. Good effort.” I level her with a look that says she’s a liar but I love her for it.

I turn and say goodbye, my arms wrapped around my paper bag and a little spring in my step when my phone rings again.

I shift the bag onto one arm, fishing out my phone from the pouch at the front of my overalls, and frown at the screen.

Unknown number.

Motherfucker.

“Look, I don’t know who you are but you need to fuck right off.” I barely finish my rant when another scream hits my ears, turning my blood cold. I don’t know how my groceries don’t fall to the sidewalk. Even more baffling is how I have the wherewithal to take one step after the other all the way to my apartment building. As though on autopilot, I make it to my floor, to my door, I open it, and as I step inside, I turn and lock myself in. First, the top, then the middle, and finally the bottom deadbolt.

Someone is fucking with me and I vow to go to the police first thing tomorrow morning. I’m still hungover and tired from last night’s fun, so dealing with this shit today is not on my agenda.

CHAPTERTHREE

Ihad to rush back from the police station this morning so I had enough time to finish packing for this weekend. Now dressed in a subtle, lightly floral, skater-style dress, and my nude Jimmy Choo’s, I make sure my fiery red wig is in place before rolling my Louis Vuitton luggage to the door.

I’m going to need a new work number, which means letting all my regular clients have the information and updating the details on my life-coaching website—which is just a front for what I really do. Annoying as fuck, but if it’s going to help stop these weirdo phone calls, I’m all for it.

That’s something I can deal with on Monday. Right now, it’s time to put Rose in the driver’s seat as Tyler Walker’s devoted girlfriend for an entire weekend.

My personal phone buzzes in my hand and when I see the name flashing on my screen, a secret smile graces my lips.

Kai:Any news on the weird phone call? Don’t think I’ve forgotten about that, Psyche.

Me:Aw, are you worried about little ol’ me?

Kai:Always.

Checking the time confirms Tyler should be rolling up within the next minute. He’s extremely prompt, never a minute early or late, which I appreciate.

Me:Can’t talk right now, catch up later?

Kai:River.

I can almost hear his tone—hard and commanding with a dash of worry. But like I said, I can’t talk right now.

Me:Tada, talk later. *kissy face emoji*

Kai:*pleading face emoji* *devil face emoji* *squid emoji* *donut emoji*

Me:*woman dancing emoji*

Kai:*hand emoji* *peach emoji*

I don’t respond to that last one, and I know I’ll be paying for that later.

The stoop outside is occupied by none other than Mr. Bobby, slurping on his regular coffee.

“Ooh, you’re looking mighty fancy, my girl. Off to anywhere nice?” His white hair glistens in the afternoon sun. He’s got a surprising amount of it left for an older man. Something I know his wife loved to grab when she was alive. The woman was a constant barrel full of sexual exploits that she wasn’t embarrassed to share with me. It broke my heart the day she died, and although Mr. Bobby doesn’t show it, it changed his whole world. This is just one reason I vowed to her spirit that I would always look out for him, even though he thinks he’s the one looking out for me.

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