Page 72 of Fake Dating My Billionaire Boss

“Look on the bright side,” he says while flicking ash at our feet. “It’s temporary.” Then he grins and heads down thesidewalk, leaving me to stare at the revolving doors and wish I was anywhere,anywhereelse besides right where I’m standing.

When my phone rings and I see it’s Fizzy, I pick up as fast as I can.

“I think I’m having some kind of existential crisis. I mean, I know I’m staring at a fifteen-story building on the Lower East Side, but I feel like I’m staring into the doors of the underworld, and there are literal demons in there waiting to suck my soul straight out of me.”

“That’s not an existential crisis. That’s called an overactive imagination. Did you get that link I sent you?”

“Yes.” I step to the side because almost everyone who’s been churned out of these revolving doors has given me death glares just because they have to take two extra steps to get around me.

“Why are people in this city so rude?” I gripe, as I find a bench and plop down. “I have been bumped and jostled and glared at all day. I want someone to look at me and ask how I’m doing, and hold a door open for me or maybe serve me a cup of coffee on the house.”

“Aw, you miss us.”

“I do. I miss Silver Springs.”

“You know you and Bo can come back and visit whenever you want. I even put a Bo-sized bed out on the balcony.”

“That’s sweet, Fizzy. Thanks.” Why am I choking back tears? I gulp and blink and then clear my throat. “Okay, so that press release you sent…? That’s got to be a mistake.”

“I don't know,” Fizzy says. “I’ve been digging into other sources online and so far; I’ve found three more mentions that your art will be at that opening.”

I pinch my brow as I look out across the street, past the lines of traffic and hazy smog. “There’s some kind of miscommunication, I guess. Damian better clear it up. I shouldcall him, only—” I raise a finger to my mouth and nibble the end of the nail.

I have to break this nail-biting habit. It might be cute when you are eight years old and anxiously nibble fingernails, but I’m going to be thirty soon.

“Only you can’t,” Fizzy fills in, “because he was your bossandyour snuggle partner, and you’re about to destroy his family business.’

“Er. Yeah. All that. I have to say, putting it that concisely doesn’t ease my anxiety.”

“I’m a truth-teller, not an anxiety-easer.”

“I know, I know. Do you think you could check this out for me? And maybe reach out to Damian, so he can clear it up?”

“Of course. I’m here to help. Fizzy at your service. And now I’d like an update on the Marion-studio-apartment fiasco. Is Sasha still stealing food from Bo’s bowl? Chewing the squeakers out of all his toys? Nipping at his heels when he tries to get water?”

“Yes, yes, and yes, and I don’t want to talk about it. Besides, I’m about to go sell my soul for minimum wage.”

“We’ll talk later then. After your visit to Hades.”

“I’ll call you,” I promise, before trudging toward the revolving doors.

Chapter 24

Bella

Product #:3345632711

Product Size:10 inches by 10 inches

Product Color:Sahara Beige. Polished.

I flickmy eyes down the form I’m filing in.

There are so many more blank fields to go.

At least one dozen, maybe two.

My pity party is interrupted by the sound of my phone vibrating on the floor next to me. Fizzy’s calling.

---