I smile, trotting on the sidewalk toward another small boutique. “My minor at the Acting Academy was fashion design and merchandising. For some reason, my little brain thought that would come in handy someday. And now look at me, shopping for a billionaire.”
Lottie giggles. “Indeed you are.”
Walking past a few more shops, we land at Mimi’s Boutique. “This is where I’ll spend the ‘per diem’ Holly at My Fake Fiancé Dot Com gave me.”
While I shop and try on clothes, Lottie fills me in on everything that is Chase Hunter: his work habits, the kind of food he dislikes, even his last girlfriend. “Oh, how he was utterly infatuated with her. But between you and me, she was quite a B, if you know what I mean. Vindictive. Not to mention selfish. They met at a business conference; she works for an investment firm similar to Hunter, Inc. Valerie—her name—used Chase, not only for names of failing businesses to target, but also for his money.”
I set down a pair of six-inch stilettos, deciding even Carrie Bradshaw wouldn’t spend three-hundred bucks on them. “You’re right, she does sound like a B.”
Lottie lets out a pity sigh, the conjured-up memories casting a frown upon her lightly made-up face. “The woman spent loads of Chase’s money, tossing it around as if she’d earned it herself. Personally, I couldn’t take seeing him turn a blind eye. I showed him his account statements with specifics on how the money-sucking leech moved money out of his accounts, right into her own.”
My mouth falls open. “How long ago were they together?”
Lottie looks over some dresses on a rack. “It’s been about four years since they split up. He went down a spiral of living this playboy-like lifestyle. Women galore, with no strings attached. He said it was because he didn’t want to commit to one woman again. I know it was because he didn’t want to risk a broken heart.”
Hearing Chase’s story makes my heart ache. It must be difficult for someone like him to ever feel as though they’ve found true love—an open target for users and abusers.
“It’s difficult to come back from a broken heart,” I say as Lottie walks alongside me on my way to the cashier.
“Are you speaking from experience, dear?”
“Me?” I shake my head. “Oh, no. I’ve never had a broken heart.”
She pins a set of eyes on me, askance, speculative. “Really? How have you been so lucky?”
“It’s simple. I’ve avoided falling in love.”
