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That’s until the morning of the launch, when I get a phone call.
I look at the phone and my heart skips a beat.
It’s Ethan.
With trembling hands, I answer.
“Hello?” I ask, a bit shaky. The butterflies are in full force in my stomach.
“I’ve sent a car for you, babe,” Ethan says. “I want you to get in it.”
“Why?” I ask instinctively. After a week and a half of no contact, to call me out of the blue and tell me to get in a car.
I’m sorry hun, but the last time I got into a car, it was with Simon, and do you remember what happened?
“Listen to me, babe,” Ethan says into the phone. “I really really really want you to get into that fucking car.”
“Where is it going to take me?” I ask him.
“It’s going to bring you to my place,” he says confidently. I wonder if he’s that hard up for sex that he needs me again. “We’re going to watch the product launch and the match up together.”
Well, let’s just say that’s a surprise.
I honestly don’t know what to say here.
I swear to you – this is just too much.
I’m just a simple girl from Southern California. I’m not someone who normally plays these games that billionaires play. I’m at the end of my wits.
I’m all check-mated out.
“I just got word the car’s outside, Brit,” Ethan says.
I’ve been silent, but I know that if there’s even a sliver of a chance that I can go back and reclaim the father of my child I’ll take it.
“I’ll be right down,” I tell him, my mind made up.
If there’s even a chance for him and I, I’m going to do everything I can to take it.
For me, yeah. But for him as well. And most of all, for the baby.
Ethan
I can fucking tell the moment the car pulls up to the curb of One57.
I mean, fuck, I could have told you what Brittney was wearing from the moment she got in the fucking car.
I’ve got sensors on the car, telling me exactly where it’s at. I’ve got cameras in the car that I can see the passengers.
The cameras in the car though, that one is actually because we filmed a movie once, two people fucking in the backseat of a limo. That’s not purposely being a fucking spy or whatever. I think we called those series something like ‘Ride Me: Backseat Confessions’ or something.
Anyways, what I’m trying to say is that it’s not a big shocker when I see Brittney getting out of the car and walking toward the entrance of the building as the doorman to One57 based on the tiny micro camera I have installed on the lobby.
Yeah, I get shit for it. Every so often, some billionaire’s bodyguard or intelligence person finds it. They remove it or destroy it with white noise. But for times like this, where I can use this tablet to watch this beautiful woman get out of the limo in a tight black dress that’s accentuating her hips and showcasing her tits, it's absolutely amazing.
Oh yeah, you heard me right. I watch a whole bunch of shit and keep recordings of the surveillance on my fucking tablet.
Remember the first time Brittney came by? I was watching something and totally entranced by it and you wanted to know what it was that was so fucking fascinating but I wouldn’t tell you?
