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Alone.
Just think of the money.
“Whatever.” I give up and turn to my brother, wanting to communicate with Noah as little as possible. “When is this function?”
“This weekend,” Noah answers before my brother can.
“Fine. Text me the details.”
I turn on my heel and stalk to the door. Just before I reach it, Noah calls out to me.
“Oh, and Sloan?”
I stop, but don’t turn around.
“Are your books available in audio yet? You know, the ones you wrote for me.” His voice drips with amusement. “I figured that could take care of the entertainment for our road trip.”
I take a deep breath and close my eyes, forcing myself not to engage, because I need this. Without this money, I am fucked. As much as I hate to admit it, though, I might well be fucked either way.
2
LUCY
“So let me get this straight.” My best friend, Kara, sits cross-legged on my bed, watching me as I pack, her straight, dark hair pulled back into a tight ponytail. “You’re pretending to be Noah Griffin’s girlfriend for the weekend? As in the billionaire Noah Griffin? As in the same Noah you wrote all those sexy stories about when we were younger?”
“Yep,” I nod, cringing at the reminder. “That just about sums it up.”
She giggles. “Oh please, can I come too? This is going to be a riot.”
“No, you can’t come. And this is strictly business,” I say firmly. “A means to an end. I have no interest in Noah, other than making sure I can pay rent this month.”
“Um, really?” She picks up one of the sexy lacey thongs tucked into my suitcase using her pinkie finger and wiggles her eyebrows at me. “I’m sorry but you don’t pack underwear this sexy unless you’re hoping to get some action.”
I snatch it off her and stuff it back in the case.
“I assume this means you're open to some kind of frolicking?” My friend grins at me, a mischievous look in her eyes.
“Frolicking? What are you, eighty?” I scoff. “And no, I'm not open to anything,especiallywhen it comes to Noah.”
“Come on, you used to fantasise about the guy when you were in high school. Probably fingerbanged yourself, too. Feelings like that don’t just disappear.”
“Yes. They do. And he’s way too old for me anyway, even if he does act like he’s eighteen.Andhe’s my brother’s best friend,” I remind her.
“Who cares? You’re twenty, Luce. And older guys are hot as fuck. And I bet he's a beast in the bedroom,” Kara adds with a giggle.
“Yeah, well, I'm never going to find out.”
“What did you end up doing with those stories anyway?” she asks.
“I threw them out,” I lie. The truth is, they are sitting safely in a shoebox under the bed she's sitting on, but there's no way in hell I'm telling her that.
“Do you still write?” she asks.
I shake my head. “I kind of lost interest after what happened,” I say dryly.
Writing is something I have always loved doing, but after what happened, I found myself panicking every time I put pen to paper. Eventually, I just gave up trying altogether and convinced myself it was just some childhood hobby I had gotten over.
“You should do it again,” Kara decides. “All jokes aside, you were obviously passionate about it. Write some and put them out there. See what happens. You never know, you might end up doing a day job that you actually love.”
