As usual, I have no choice but to go along with whatever Jules wants.
Flopping back onto her pillows, she muses, “Remember Professor Mickelson, our psychology teacher?”
“Yeah. He was a hard-ass. Psychology is supposed to be fluff, but his class was brutal.”
“He was a hard-ass, yes, but he was a man with a pushbutton. They all have pushbuttons, Candi. You know that.”
“Okay. And his was…?” I prod.
After another sip of espresso, she goes on.
“I was pulling a C- in psychology our junior year, as you may recall. But you know how I fixed my grade without any real, measurable effort on my part? I went onto Mickelson’s social media and stalked him for dear life, looking for weaknesses.”
“Okay, and?”
“And, I dug up the ex-girlfriend who crushed his heart that he never stopped longing for andthenhopped over to her social media and stumbled upon a post about her favorite perfume. I drove straight over to Macy’s, bought a bottle, and wore it to class every day for a week. I made sure to sit in the front row so he could get a good whiff, too.
“By the time I went into his office to sweet talk him into ‘reassessing’ his grading of my term paper and the essay questions on the final exam, he was already putty in my hands. Simple perfume allowed me to seduce that man without ever having to lay a finger on him. I got what I wanted; he got a trip down memory lane.”
“The pushbutton,” I say with a nod. “How dastardly of you.”
“Yup.” She gives me her best Miss America smile. “And that, my dear friend, is how you win Armani Bellanti back into your bed. His bed. Whatever.”
I’m not quite sure her example applies to Armani, but I get the gist. “So you want me to track down one of Armani’s ex-girlfriends and bathe myself in her perfume?”
Juliana scrunches her nose. “No. I want you to give him something that he wants—that he yearns for. Something…forbidden. Something that will set every nerve in his body on fire.”
My confusion must be showing on my face, because she throws up her hands in exasperation. “Seduce him, Candi! Jesus.”
“You could’ve just said that.”
“I believe I just did.”
I was never as handy at getting men to do what I wanted as Jules was. While she taught me the art of small talk and social skills, I never quite picked up on her ability to completely bend a man to her will. She’s a master—and she always makes it look so effortless. It would happen in the blink of an eye, before the guy even suspected that he’d been worked over.
“Listen, you don’t have to make it complicated,” she goes on. “It could be as simple as showing up in his office at 5:01 on the dot with a drink ready for him. Wearing something a little sexy, willing to listen about his boring, terrible day. Make yourself available to him in the hottest way you know.”
“Maybe you’re right,” I admit. “All this time, I’ve been waiting for him to come to me. But maybe I need to intercept him where he’s at. Go to him first.”
“Exactly,” she says approvingly.
The thing is, I’m not sure what he’s doing all day when he’s not in his office—which is often, judging by the fact that his car is always missing from its parking spot. And in the evenings? I’ve eaten half my meals in Armani’s sitting room, because it feels weird to eat in the formal dining room with the family when Armani’s not there. I have no idea where he goes. And we obviously don’t have the kind of relationship where we discuss our daily plans.
I’m not doing a very good job of things. How can I let him keep slipping through my fingers like this?
“I just need to make myself available…in the hottest way I know,” I say with a confidence I don’t feel, parroting Juliana’s advice so she’ll ease up on me.
But…what is the hottest way that I know? My mind draws a blank.
Clearly, I have some work to do.
It’s time to go shopping.
9
ARMANI
I may have underestimatedmy control.
