Page 27 of The Sexy Billionaire

“You have yourself a deal,” I tell her.

9

GIORGIO

Why do I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck? I roll over in my bed and the room spins while my stomach groans. What did I eat last night? Oh, that’s right, a pint of ice cream and two bottles of rosé—not a good mix. I was hoping last night was a dream, that I didn’t witness my fiancée and sister together.

In this moment, I’m so thankful that we haven’t told anyone about our breakup. I couldn’t possibly deal with the media fallout with this hangover. I reach over and grab my phone to see if I’ve missed anything important and notice a message from Paige. I quickly sit up in bed and regret it instantly, so I lie back down again and turn onto my side. I swipe my phone open and am met with a whole message thread.

Giorgio: Just walked in on my sister going down on my fiancée at my engagement party.

Paige: Who is this?

Giorgio: It’s me, Gio.

Paige: Have you been hacked?

Giorgio: Wish I had been but no. I’ve drunk a lot of rosé and eaten a pint of ice cream, trying to forget what I’ve seen.

Paige: Oh shit, I’m so sorry. That would have been horrible.

Giorgio: My sister, like what the fuck?

Paige: I got off the plane after the funeral and walked in on my husband fucking our sous chef at work.

Giorgio: No fucking way.

Paige: I hit him with a baguette. Wish it was something harder.

Giorgio: Lucky it wasn’t. You’re too pretty for jail.

Paige: I hate orange more than I hate him.

Giorgio: What did that color ever do to you?

Paige: I don’t know, but it gives me a visceral reaction. Past life trauma, maybe I was murdered by a bunch of oranges.

Giorgio: Oranges don’t have arms.

Paige: You really are drunk.

Giorgio: I really am.

Paige: Why did you message me?

And I must have fallen asleep at that point because I’ve left her last message unanswered.

Shit.

Also, why the hell did I message all that shit to Paige?Lucky, you did because now you know she’s in the same boat as you.How is it lucky that she caught her asshole husband fucking the sous chef? That’s messed up.She’s single.No, she’s not. She’sit’s complicatedat best, like me.

Giorgio: Hey, I’m sorry about dumping a heap of emotional baggage into your DMs like that. I fell asleep right after I sent you the message. If it helps, I’m suffering from the mother of all hangovers this morning. Hope you’re doing well, and I’m sorry that you’re going through the same shit as me.

Then I throw my phone away from me; I’ve done enough damage. I’ve apologized and she can do with it what she wants. I’m not even sure what the time is in New York; I think it’s early. Either way, I need a shower to feel human.

“There he is,” my mother says as she rushes up and embraces me after my shower. She smothers me with kisses, which is too much for this level of hangover.

“Mamma, please,” I tell her.

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