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My lips curve. I pull the camera away and take a selfie. Before I can think better of it, I send it to Jonah.
I wait long minutes for his reply. I’m slipping on the blue dress when I finally get it.
Jonah
It’s rude to be hard in a business meeting. Or so I’ve heard.
I laugh and slap a hand over my mouth. The blue dress is partly on, and my breasts are pushed up above the top, almost baring my nipples. Am I about to do this? I guess I am. It’s fun and joyful and a little bit bad. I fire off another photo and the response comes immediately.
Jonah
Fuck.
A little lower next time.
A knock sounds and a horrified eep comes out of my mouth. I rush to zip the blue dress and let Katie in.
She assesses me like only a professional can, while I fidget under her scrutiny. “That’s lovely. Classic, elegant, flattering. I want to put you in some bold earrings to go with it. The bigger, the better. And of course you’ll need to try on a few backup dresses and then whatever else strikes your fancy.”
“Backup dresses. Of course,” I mutter, but follow her out.
George gives me an approving nod but doesn’t say anything else. Presumably they’re here to make sure Katie gets paid.
When I’m back in the room, I text Jonah again.
Callie
Where am I supposed to keep this stuff? I have a tiny closet.
I guess I can have Katie return the dresses, but a little part of me wants to pile them all into a heap and jump into it. No one has ever done anything like this for me.
Jonah
You can keep it all here.
Does he mean—no. My thoughts scurry while I think of a response. He can’t mean at his place, like I’m his girlfriend.
Jonah
I can hear you thinking. Send me another photo. This meeting is boring.
His insistence brings a smile to my lips. I decide to be very bad, instead of a little bit bad. So I put on the dangling earrings and lay on the divan in the corner. I take as artful a shot as I can manage. Nothing explicit, just cleavage, an earring, the curve of my ass.
I fire it off to Jonah with a message:
Callie
Your turn.
I lay there for several minutes, but of course he doesn’t respond. He’s in a meeting. What did you think he was going to do? Lock himself in the bathroom and strip? He’s a billionaire, Cal. Whatever he’s doing is probably worth more than all these dresses combined.
And in that moment, I feel like the cliché of a billionaire’s wife. At home, with a world that revolves around my husband. I pull off the earrings and dress in my street clothes. On the way out, I thank Katie and tell her I’ll keep just a few items—the dress, some underwear, a pair of shoes. She looks shocked, but doesn’t argue.
George raises a brow. “You didn’t want all of it?”
“I don’t have space for it.” I shrug nonchalantly, the ache in my chest growing with every minute that Jonah doesn’t answer me.
“He’s not going to like this.” George purses their lips.
