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A little before midnight, I stretched my arms above my head, leaned back on the floor where Oliana and I sat, and yawned. “Want to call it a night? I hate to say this, but I do enjoy your company, even if you are a crazy bitch.”
“We are both the same. You only pretend to be a good girl.” Oliana stared up at the loft ceiling as she lay on her back.
Gone was her catsuit and expensive coat, and in its place was a coordinating pair of jogging pants and a sweatshirt in shades of sage.
A tray with snacks sat between us, along with cups and a coffee carafe.
A serene calmness seemed to have settled over Oliana’s features, giving me a glimpse of the woman behind her persona. No matter how much I wanted to deny it, I liked her.
And maybe, just maybe, I needed someone with her attitude in my life. She made me feel less alone, and the fact she kept pushing her way into places made me feel wanted.
Yep, it was official. I was a nutjob.
Having Oliana “voluntold” me that she planned to wear the My Mistress outfit technically made things so much easier for me. This meant I tailored one of my signature pieces to the model, and the diva would work the clothes the entire time she walked the runway.
I only hoped Nikki didn’t have visions of slitting my throat for the revealing outfit his wife would wear in front of thousands of people. One run-in with a person trying to kill me was more than enough for this lifetime.
I could only imagine how things were going for Carla Justine. With the media attention surrounding the Randolph family and her being a key witness against them, her life was more than likely chaos. My heart ached for her. Yeah, she tried to kill me, but the whole attempt was half-assed at best, according to Lucian.
Carla was just another victim in the long line of Randolph carnage, except she had some sense knocked into her when I punched her in the face, and she decided to change course.
“So, are we leaving or sleeping on the floor?” Oliana asked, breaking into my thoughts.
“You head home. I’m going to crash in the bedroom here. I have a supplier coming early and would rather not fight traffic to make it on time.”
Oliana pushed up to sit. “You do look bad. Sleep. Maybe some sex would do you good, too.”
“Are you kidding me right now?” I frowned at her. “What happened to Nikki, and I don’t share?”
“No. That is not what I meant.” The outrage in Oliana’s voice had me smiling. “I’m married. Nikki would kill us both.”
“So you would fuck me if you were single?”
She smirked. “I’d corrupt you in more ways than you could ever imagine possible.”
A tingle shot down my stomach, remembering Damon saying something similar to me.
“Then where do you expect me to have sex?” I rose to my feet, offered Oliana a hand, and pulled her to standing.
I looked at the floor and sighed. Drawings and fabric samples were strewn all over the ground.
I waved my hand. “That will stay there until morning.”
“Okay, then I’ll be here too.”
“Don’t you have nightclubs to run and children to raise?”
“I do. But I want to do this more. I take the babies to school and come here.”
I cocked a hand on my hip. “What is the real reason you’re doing this? The truth.”
“You need a friend. I need a friend. Too many fakes. You aren’t scared to tell me that I’m a bitch. I know I’m a bitch. I like that.”
I swallowed. “Okay. See you tomorrow.”
Oliana gathered her belongings and headed in the direction of the elevator.
