Page 74 of The Naughty List

“How—how’d she know your last name or who you were? How’d she get your number?” I purposely didn’t mention Alex’s last name at Christmas, knowing my parents would easily put two and two together, considering I work at Snow Communications. And while my parents aren’t judgmental, if my mom knew I was bringing my billionaire boss to her house, she would have completely freaked out.

He chuckles. “She called the lobby receptionist and asked to speak to me. She told her she was my girlfriend’s mother.”

“Oh god.” I cover my face, sinking down into my chair and praying for the ground to open up and swallow me whole.

“It’s okay. I don’t think you give your mom enough credit. She said she knew who I was the second you introduced me. She knows the name of the man who owns the company you work for, Sadie. She’s your mom, she’s done her due diligence.”

“I’m so sorry.” I shake my head. “I never told her, or anyone else for that matter, that you were my boyfriend. I swear. She asked me about you, and I quickly shut things down.”

“Why’s that?”

I stare at him for a second, blinking, trying to assess his tone. “Why’s what?”

“Why did you shut things down when she asked about me?”

“Oh, well I didn’t want to make it any more awkward for you than it already was. I mean, I showed up with a completely different guy than I have in the past. Plus, it would have made her think she had to go out and buy oysters and caviar, or whatever rich people eat, if she knew a billionaire was sitting at her Christmas table.”

“Is that how you see me? A fancy billionaire? We ate hotdogs on your living room floor two nights ago, tacos at my place the night before that.”

“No, that’s not the only way I see you, but it’s a fact. You’re you, and that intimidates people.”

“I’m not fancy though. I’m a very down-to-earth, everyday person. It’s just money.”

I know he’s being sincere, but he doesn’t see himself the way everyone else does. He just doesn’t get it. “It’s not just money, Alex, it’s status and power. Being who you are gets you in the door, it gets you respect. It’s not a bad thing, it’s just hard for the rest of us to relate, and that can often make people feel intimidated.”

“Are you intimidated?”

“A little, yes.”

“Still?”

“Still.” I smile and my stomach knots up, knowing that what I’m about to say might completely ruin things between us. “I um…I’ve been thinking actually.”

“Oh boy, it’s never good when a sentence starts out like that.”

“I know we haven’t talked at all about”—I motion between us—“this. I don’t even know what this is but—”

“What do you want it to be?”

“I’m not sure. We both know I just got out of a long-term relationship, one that I’m not sure I’ve healed from. I haven’t even experienced closure with Tim yet, and honestly, I’m not sure I ever will. That’s okay though, I’ve accepted that, but I think I need some time, you know? Even if all this ever was going to be was just fun, I really value your friendship. I don’t want to lose that, and I think that if I’m in your bed every night, I’m not going to be able to figure things out for myself.”

He sits in silence for several seconds. I reach my hand out to touch his.

“Say something.”

“I think you’re wise beyond your years, Sadie. For what it’s worth, I value your friendship too. A lot. I don’t see you as just a fun distraction. I’ve told you before, you deserve more than that. And I really do hope that you get the closure you deserve from Tim. I’ll always be your friend.” He squeezes my hand and stands up. “Thanks again for allowing me the pleasure of spending Christmas with you and your family; they’re wonderful people.”

I don’t know why I feel like I’m going through a breakup all over again. My chest tightens, and tears begin to pool in my eyes.

“Don’t do that,” he says, reaching out to wipe one that broke free. “This isn’t goodbye, kitten. Reach out if you need anything.”

And with that, he turns and walks to the elevators.

* * *

“Three…Two…One…Happy New Year!”

I raise my glass to toast with my friends as we watch the ball drop in Times Square. I smile and yell cheers, but my mind is elsewhere. I wish I’d invited Alex. I wonder what he’s doing, if he’s having a good time. I pull out my phone to send him a text, but when I click on our text thread, I already see the three little bubbles dancing, indicating he’s typing a message.

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