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“I take your point,” I say, “but isn’t it a bit, I don’t know, convenient, to be like, okay! I hate the idea of billionaires, but I’ll make an exception for this one because he gives good head?”
“Ah,” sighs Becks. “I don’t even know the last time I got good head.”
I think she said it a little loudly, because out of the corner of my eye I see Henderson sit a little straighter.
“Can we focus, please? On the issue at hand?”
“Yeah, sorry,” grins Becks. “It’s been a while.”
I don’t really believe her. Becks has more lovers than I can count on both hands. Ethical slut, she calls herself. Whereas me choosing to shag Alistair is more like being an unethical slut, which doesn’t please me.
“Look,” says Becks, glancing at Henderson. “I’m no more comfortable with the idea of you banging a billionaire than you are. But if you’re willing to ride out the week—pun intended—and be involved in the car crash that will inevitably ensue, then I say go for it.”
“What kind of advice is that?” I demand.
But at the same time, I think life’s short, right? It’s usually what I tell myself before doing something really stupid.
“Look at it this way.” She swirls her Americano. “The fallout can’t be worse than it was with Jeff.”
Ugh. I pull a disgusted face. Jeff.
“Exactly,” says Becks, giving me wide eyes of warning.
It took months to extract myself from that relationship, and the restraining order is still in place.
“How toxic is the billionaire?” she asks. “Scale of one to ten.”
“Honestly? Zero—for now. I’m sure that’ll change as I get to know him. But on first impression, he’s the most warm, wonderful, generous man. He ran a scented bath for me. Ordered delicious food. Bought me gifts.”
“And made you come five times,” Becks adds. Again, little too loudly.
I clear my throat and give an embarrassed smile. “Yes, there’s also that.”
“So basically, as far as billionaires go, he seems like a good one.”
“Is there such a thing, though?” I whisper. “A good billionaire?”
“Nope,” she replies, draining her coffee. “I was just trying to make you feel better.”
“Thanks.”
“It’s what friends do.”
I glance down into my cup, which is empty. I don’t really remember drinking it. It’s like I’m slightly high.
“So what are your plans for the rest of the day, then?” Becks asks. “Swanning back to your luxury hotel penthouse to meet up with your sugar daddy? Swimming in your giant spa bath? Wolfing down the caviar in the fridge?”
I shrug. “I guess so. Can you get organic cruelty-free caviar?” I wonder out loud.
Becks hazards a guess. “Probably not. But it’s only for a week, right?”
I feel much more grounded after the yoga and seeing Becks. She’s really good at that, amongst other things. When we say goodbye outside the studio she arches an eyebrow at Henderson, no doubt wondering if he is as good as his boss in bed.
“Behave,” I murmur, as we hug goodbye.
“That’s terrible advice,” she counters.
I laugh, and she gives me an extra squeeze. “See you soon. Dinner?”
