Page 3 of Beauty and the Billionaire Boss

“Belle,” Jo scolds. “I never know if you’re being serious when you say things like that. You must know how beautiful you are.”

“Eye of the beholder and all that,” I mumble, uncomfortable with the compliment.

She purses her lips. Then she says, “You have to admit your boobs are nice though.”

“They’re okay,” I say with a short laugh. They don’t seem anything special to me, but she’s bi and polyamorous, so I trust her opinion.

“Wear a low-cut top tomorrow,” she states.

“Jo… he’d eat me alive.”

“Wow. Then you should definitely show some cleavage.”

I giggle. “No, I mean he’s far too… grrr.”

“Wouldn’t that be cool, though? To go with an older guy who knew his way around the bedroom? Someone who was chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream and not plain old vanilla?”

“Mmm.”

We fall silent as we both think about that. Then our eyes meet.

“Are you thinking about sex or ice cream?” she asks.

“Both,” I reply, and we laugh again.

“I’ll have to suggest that to Ian,” she says, naming one of the guys she’s currently seeing. He’s a lot older than us, in his thirties, I think.

“Suggest what?”

“Buying some chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream so they can cover me in it.”

“Yeah, but you’d just lick it off yourself.”

That makes us both dissolve into giggles.

Eventually, I sigh. “I’m so envious of you and your adventurous sex life.”

“I’ve told you, you can always join in,” she replies mischievously.

I give her a wry look. “I’m very flattered, but you know that’s not my thing.”

“Shame. We’d have a lot of fun.”

“I’d rather start with something other than missionary before I progress to three in a bed.”

Her brows draw together. “I can’t believe what an arsehole Cole was. I’m so glad he’s not on the scene anymore.”

“Yeah, me too.” My gaze drifts out of the window, though, as I think about my ex. I ended it, but it’s only been a few weeks since we parted, so the wound is still very raw. I don’t regret breaking up with him because, by the end, ninety percent of the relationship was toxic. He was disrespectful, dishonest, and although he spoke as if he was God’s gift, I didn’t enjoy sex with him any more than I did the other two guys I’ve been with. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss that other ten percent of the relationship—having someone to cuddle up to in bed at night, to watch movies and go to parties with.

“Don’t,” Jo says sharply.

I look back at her, startled. “What?”

“Don’t you dare start regretting leaving him.”

“I’m not. But it wasn’t all bad.”

“Have you forgotten how many times I found you crying in the bathroom?”

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