Style (Dressing a Billionaire Book 2): A Romantic Comedy

by Jamie Lee Scott

  Gwen checked in from Germany. Orlean posted selfies with Bruce, not afraid to do it, now that I knew about them. Blech! I mean I couldn’t help but be happy for them, but did it have to be my good friend and my brother? How were we going to talk about sex? Gross. And did they have to play video games together?

  I opened my iBooks app and found a book I’d purchased months ago. An interesting romantic suspense novel. I needed to escape the real world for a few hours, so I started reading.

  I enjoy a good love story. As I read, I wished for this kind of love. I wished Hugo could be a regular Joe, and we could be more than client and stylist. Then I wished Hugo could be fat, and ugly, and mean, so I wouldn’t be so damned attracted to him. I kept picturing him as the hero in the story.

  I must have fallen asleep while reading, because when I jolted awake, the clock read two in the morning. I had curled into the covers, my phone still in my hand. I bolted upright in bed when I heard banging.

  What? What the hell? Where was I? My mind took a moment to orientate itself.

  Aria Hotel, crazy girl, and you’re alone in a room you can’t afford.

  The banging started again. Were they coming to kick me out?

  I got out of bed and walked out into the living room. The banging came from the door of the hotel room. I looked in the peephole.

  I opened the door wide. “Do you know what time it is?” I snapped.

  Hugo stepped forward and wrapped his arms around me. “You’re fired,” he said.

  I tried to pull away. “What? What did I do?”

  He pulled me in closer and said, “I can’t do this with my employee. And if you’re my stylist, you’re kind of like an employee.” He kissed me on the mouth.

  I moved my head back. “Hugo, you’ve already kissed me. You can’t fire me now.”

  He kissed down the side of my neck. “I haven’t done this.”

  Oh, no, he definitely hadn’t. And it felt so good.

  “I need this job.” I protested weakly. So weak, in fact, it sounded pathetic.

  “I need you,” he moaned, pushing me toward my room and closing the door behind him.

  “But we haven’t even had a real first date,” I pointed out.

  I needed the logical part of my head to shut the fuck up. I needed to zip my lips, but if I did that, I couldn’t kiss him back and enjoy the taste of whiskey on his tongue. Wait, whiskey!

  “How much have you had to drink, Hugo.” I push away hard this time.

  “I’m celebrating. We tripled expectations for release day. The watch is a mega hit! My parents called earlier. Proud parents, so proud.” He ran the words together.

  I tried to smile. He wanted someone to celebrate with. Not necessarily me, but he didn’t have anyone else at that moment.

  “I’m so happy for you, but I’m not doing this.” I shoved at him.

  “I need to relieve years of balled up stress, and I need you.” I heard the slur in his words this time.

  May as well say what I want, because wouldn’t remember in the morning. “And I want to fuck your brains out, lick every inch of your body, and suck…but I’m not going to do it when you’re drunk. Besides, you probably can’t get it up if you’re this drunk.”

  I looked down at his jeans. “I can. I think.” The enthusiasm waned.

  I kissed him on the mouth, unable to stop myself. “Let’s go back to your room.”

  I kissed him all the way to my door, opened it, then pushed him through.

  The look on his face when I closed my hotel room door on it made my heart ache and reminded me of a hurt little boy. It took everything in me not to open the door and jump his body.

  I waited for him to leave, then put the “do not disturb” sign on the door and walked back to the bedroom. I put on my noise canceling headphones and went back to bed. The idea that he could only hit on me drunk made me sick to my stomach.

  Chapter Nine

  I fell asleep with the headphones on and dreamed of Hugo. Only he’d been a watch that kept ticking in my head, then the big hand on the watch turned into a penis, and the little hand into a tongue, all at the same time as the alarm kept moaning over and over, “I need you.” I tossed and turned, trying to turn off the thoughts in my head.And yet, every time I fell asleep, I’d see that damned big hand. The least he could have given me was a wet dream, not this watch and penis nightmare.

  The bedroom had blackout curtains, so I didn’t know if I’d woken to middle of the night or early morning. I picked up my phone to see it was neither. I’d slept until eleven! What was it with me and sleeping so late? Had I really not adjusted to the time changes and my “drive lag” from the trip home? It had been weeks, and I knew it couldn’t be the time change or lack of sleep from the cross-country trek.

  My mind had gone into hibernation. It wanted to sleep, so it didn’t have to think. Only my brain didn’t know how to turn my mind off. The dreams creepy, and reality a mess. Maybe the only answer to my problem: get falling down drunk, act on my whims, and regret nothing.

  Also on my phone, messages from two possible new clients. Via Derek! And one from Orlean: You can stop hating me now. Bruce and I split the sheets.

  What? I didn’t hate her. It had just been a weird episode the other day. I could easily see her as my sister-in-law. Or maybe not. I liked Orlean, but not as much as Gwen. If I could tear Gwen away from Ian long enough to make her like Bruce, I’d go for that combo.

  I loved my brother, and even though we fought, I knew he’d be going places. He had ambitions. He didn’t share his thoughts and ideas the way I did. But I knew he’d been working at something. Coders are stealthy that way. They hide out for months, then emerge from their cave with the next Grand Theft Auto.

  I texted back, Sorry it didn’t work out, but I don’t hate you.

  Almost immediately, she sent back a frown, then asked, Would you introduce me to Hugo when you have a chance?

  What the fuck? Um, no! She’d wanted me to be with Hugo, even pushed me into it. She’s probably the reason I had feelings toward him. I wouldn’t have imagined it if she hadn’t put it in my head. I didn’t even respond. That should tell her my answer.

  And then another text: We need to talk.

  Fuck, fuck, fuck. Hugo must be sober.

  I hesitated, then texted back, Okay. I didn’t want to ask when or where, because I wasn’t sure I wanted to see him yet.

  My door is open, stop by when you’re ready.

  I looked at the ceiling of my hotel room, then squeezed my eyes shut. I had to do this, he was my ride home. My first-class ride home.

  I got up and took a shower, making sure I dressed as casually as possible, with loose clothes, and not a hint of “I want to lick your body” showing. Even though I still wanted to lick his body, I cringed at the thought I’d said it aloud to him.

  As I walked down the hall in bare feet, I reminded myself: he was very drunk last night. He doesn’t remember what you said. He’s still your client. He didn’t really fire you.

  I knocked lightly on his door, then opened it. I didn’t want to barge in and see him naked. I couldn’t handle that in my fragile state. Fragile meaning, still seeing that gorgeous big hand of the clock in my dreams.

  When I walked in, I saw a colorful spread of a buffet breakfast on the dining room table. Hugo entered from the kitchen.

  “Good morning. Orange juice?” He held up the crystal pitcher in his hand.

  “It’s almost afternoon, but yes, thanks.” I looked over the elaborate spread of biscuits, pastries, fruit, bread, and muffins. “Expecting company?”

  He poured a glass of OJ and handed it to me. “Just you. But I wasn’t sure what you’d like to eat, so I got an array of items. There’s also five or six kinds of cold cereal in the kitchen, and whole, low-fat, and skim milk.”

  I picked up a strawberry and bit into it. The pink juice trickled down the right side of my chin. “This is a little overkill. We could have gone out to breakfast.”


  He shrugged. “I figured if there’s going to be a scene, I’d rather it be in the privacy of my room, not a public restaurant.”

  A scene? Dare I ask? Oh, hell yes!

  “And what kind of scene were you expecting?” I peeled the skin off an orange, just to give my hands something to do.

  “Maisy, I remember firing you last night.” He took a sip of his juice.

  “Oh, right, that.” I waved him off.

  “Sit down.” He pulled out a chair for me and handed me a plate.

  I continued to slowly peel the orange, not even remotely hungry now. I sat in the chair.

  “I’m sitting,” I said. “So what is it?”

  “I fired you last night, then you basically escorted me from your hotel room and shut the door in my face. I do believe you’d have slammed it if that were possible.” He slid down in his chair and crossed his ankle over his knee, giving me a great view of his…new jeans from EZ.

  I might have slammed it, if only to wake myself up from the delusion of thinking I might have sex with him. Not to slam a point home with him.

  “I might have, but I didn’t think about it at the time. You were pretty drunk; I can’t believe you remember it.” I wanted to run my fingers through his rumpled hair, which goes to show you my mind wasn’t in the room with me.

  “I remember every word I said to you. I don’t want you to work for me anymore. I don’t want to be your client. I love your style, and I love your company, but I don’t know enough about you, and I want to know more. Or I wanted to know more.”

  I choked on his last words, since I’d started eating the orange. I coughed a few times, then said, “This is all a misunderstanding. I’m not going to beg you to keep me, Hugo, but I’m not sure I understand why you don’t want me.”

  He put his glass down and stood up. He walked over to me, bent down, and put his hands on my shoulders. “Can’t you get it through your thick head? I do want you. I want you so much I had to get drunk to get up the nerve to tell you. I want you so bad, my jeans just got tighter from touching you. I want you so much, you’re all I can think of since we went shopping yesterday.”

  I looked down at his crotch, but couldn’t make a good assessment of the situation. “But you’re letting me go. Or firing me?”

  He didn’t answer. He leaned in closer and kissed me lightly on the lips. Before I could register what happened, he’d taken my hand and put it on his groin. “I want you for me. Not as a stylist. I want you to undress me, not dress me. Get it?”

  Oh, I got it alright, and my dream of the big hand had been a gross underestimate.

  Hugo let go of my hand and brushed my cheek with the back of his hand, then trailed his fingers down along my neck. “I’ve avoided my attraction as long as I can. Stella wouldn’t approve. She still thinks Kelsey and I still stand a chance.”

  Again, Kelsey, ruining the moment. I wanted to bolt out of the chair.

  I placed my hand on top of his and pulled it away from my neck. He put his other hand at the back of my neck and pulled me forward. He kissed me on the forehead. “I can’t deny the attraction anymore, what about you?”

  I tilted my head up and with the lightest of touch, I kissed his soft, plump lips. Then I stopped, leaving him the opportunity to step back, to walk away. I sensed I should stop where this was going, but I didn’t want to.

  I’d been a good stylist. I’d never even considered relationships with the men I’d dressed in the past. And I’d dressed and undressed plenty of single, rich men in Southern California. I’d never been attracted to their money. Maybe if a single one of them had been the same gentleman Hugo was, I’d have been tempted.

  This wasn’t the time to analyze the situation, it was the time to take a leap of faith. I felt something for Hugo, and he’d take the leap with me. I pushed him away from me.

  The rejection on his face made me laugh. “You’re too damn cute.”

  I grabbed him by the hand and pulled him to the bedroom. Okay, fine, no pulling involved, he nearly got to the door before me.

  “I knew you were brilliant.” He moved forward and our lips met again. This time not for show, and not for any reason, but that we wanted to touch each other.

  I felt the desire, the attraction, now.

  “You realize my attraction to you isn’t just physical, right?” Hugo said as he unbuttoned my shirt.

  “I want you, Hugo. I’ve wanted you for a long time. The attraction is physical.” I pulled his shirt over his head, not bothering with the buttons. “We don’t know each other well enough for it to be anything more than physical.”

  “But there is more,” he protested between kisses.

  “Shut up,” I said. “Turn off your brain for a few minutes and let’s enjoy this. We can analyze it later.” Or not.

  And with that, a long sensuous kiss led us to the bed. I tossed the decorative pillows across the room and feared saying another word. I feared breaking the connection, spoiling the moment with thoughts and words.

  As I relaxed into the moment, I chuckled.

  “What?” he asked.

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Not sure of what?” he stopped kissing me.

  “How this will end?” I ran my hands over his shoulders.

  “If you lick my entire body like you promised last night, I promise you it will end well.”

  I laughed. “Oh, I promise.”

  He winked and said, “I should hope it will end with both of us very satisfied.”

  I stared at Hugo, sleeping peacefully after we made love a second time. My mind reeling at a million miles a second.

  I wanted this, but I was afraid of where our realities clashed. What had this been to him? A release? A way to get Kelsey out of his head?

  After the first round, he’d said, “You’re the first real woman I’ve been with since Kelsey.”

  All I could think was, OMG, he has sex with blow-up dolls? Or drag queens?

  And he kept mentioning Kelsey’s name. I had to wonder if she’d been on his mind from recently seeing her, or if she’d always been there? Did he make love to her with the same passion he did with me? I’ll tell you this, Miles never left me feeling like this after sex, exhausted and drained, and still wanting more even though I’d been completely satisfied.

  I’d faked it with Miles many times, so I almost forgot what the real thing felt like with a real penis inside me, and not a vibrator helping me reach my peak. And I must confess, the vibrator I own had been well used, and not nearly as big as Hugo. Nor as attentive, and I was the one manipulating it.

  Oh, yeah, back to Kelsey. My response. “I’m not even sure what that means. I’m not sure I want to know.”

  He rolled to his side and rested on his elbow, his hand on the side of his head. “I mean, I’ve never wanted more before you. I had sex, sure, but only because I had physical needs. I usually jumped out of the bed, or wherever, before I even finished coming.”

  I giggled at that visual. Had he been doing it in barns or other clandestine settings?

  “Half of the women, I don’t even know their names. And I guarantee you they don’t know mine.”

  “And now I’m thinking two condoms would have been a better move.” I cringed at what the possibilities might be.

  He laughed and rolled back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling as I’d done earlier. “Believe me, I was careful. When you’re me, you don’t want baby mamas coming to your door. Or to go back to the woman and tell her she’s given you an STD.”

  Fair enough. “So excuse me for being nosy, and I should have known this before I let you…how should I say this…penetrate my defenses, but what name did you use? And where did you pick these women up?”

  He closed his eyes. “That’s a story for another morning in bed. Needless to say, I had to do the flirting, because no one came on to me. Not with my “grizzly the bear” look.”

  As I climbed back on top of him, I said, “So you trolled the biker bars?”

&nbs
p; He pulled me down on top of him for round three, which made me realize, he recovers very quickly.

  Right before he fell asleep, he apologized for his behavior the previous night. Or at least I think that’s what he mumbled.

  I desperately wanted to scoot over next to him and curl up against his naked body, but I didn’t want to disturb his peaceful slumber. Instead, I slipped quietly out of the bed, grabbed a plate of breakfast from the buffet, and went back to my room.

  Hugo’s major work may be over, but mine had just started. I returned phone calls, set up appointments, and looked for a studio to rent in downtown Dallas. I figured with the money I’d earned from Derek, I could pay the first month and deposit for the rent. If the studio was small enough. I’d copied the addresses and phone numbers of eleven places within half an hour of my parent’s house. I also required they had public transportation from close by my folk’s place to within a block of the studio space. I wasn’t ready to invest in a new car just yet.

  Now all I had to do was introduce myself to the high-end boutique owners, and get my business cards looking professional. I had an idea of what caught the eye of clients, thanks to my mentor, Marla. As much as I hated her for stabbing me in the back, I had to credit her with pushing me out of the nest, empowering me. And she’d fed me well and taught me the ropes, before shoving me out without knowing if I could fly.

  And I would fly. I would soar.

  I looked to the wall that divided my room from Hugo’s. And I had to do all of this on my own. No one would ever be able to say I’d used Hugo to get ahead. Sure the photos with him would help, but I’d get my clients, and I’d climb the ladder of my newly found world on my own. I swore to myself in those moments that I’d never drop his or Stella’s name again. Ever. Hugo had fired me, so that’s not a healthy reference.

  “Yes, Mr. Popovits, I see. And again, why did you fire Maisy Tucker as your stylist?” The prospective client would say.

  Hugo would grin and wink, and say, “Well, because I wanted to fuck her, of course. And a man in my position can’t fuck his help. It would bring on a sexual harassment suit. I may be made of money, but I hate dealing with lawyers and litigation.”