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“I fought it, but given their position, I don’t see we have a choice. And, we don’t have any other alternatives right now either.”
Samantha relaxed. “You know what this means, right?”
“It means I can relax for a change,” I responded.
With a smirk, Samantha pointed at me. “It also means you can quit that prostitution gig.”
“It's not like that, and you know it.” I rolled my eyes.
She floated to the door. “Anything you say, but we really need you back here full time, Amy.”
Samantha’s jab laid bare my choice. Now I had to face my situation with Liam and make a decision. Her quip about full time had only been partly a joke. Since moving to Liam’s, I hadn’t spent any of my normal evening hours at work. I’d tried to make up for it with some laptop time at the penthouse, but it wasn’t the same. Clearly Samantha felt short-changed.
I turned to face the window and stared out.
So far my time with Liam had shown me how similar life was for the uber-wealthy, and yet how different. After a few days, I'd asked him if he needed anything washed. Naturally, he had a washer and dryer in the penthouse, but unlike the rest of us, he didn't use them. His cleaning lady gathered up his dirty clothes twice a week and sent them out to the cleaners. She used his laundry room to wash towels and sheets for him. It was almost like living in a hotel, with a maid service that came in twice a week to clean and change the linens.
We would pocket a million more with this deal than through Liam. But the more I thought about the prospect of walking away from him, the less I liked it.
Taking breakfast on his patio every morning with a view of the city had been a treat, not to mention the nighttime lights, and the five-million thread count or whatever sheets. Everything about his place was platinum-plated luxury.
I didn’t want to go back to squeezing onto the Red Line trains again in the morning, sandwiched between smelly commuters. I would miss arriving at work in his million-horsepower James Bond magic carpet.
My duty seemed clear enough. I'd promised to give him my best effort. I had learned that, to him, promises were sacrosanct. Would I be able to forgive myself if I let him down now? We hadn't even had our second dinner with the Schmulians yet. It wasn’t asking much to be his fake girlfriend for a few dinners. And living at his condo offered an interesting glimpse at how the one percent lived——the one percent of the one percent would actually be more accurate.
The buzz of my phone vibrating on the desk forced me back to reality, and I swung my chair around to get it. The screen lit up with a message.
LIAM: How is your day?
It was decision time. Did I tell him about the money now or over dinner and champagne?
ME: Same old same old
I had committed to his project. He deserved my best, and that’s what he was going to get. I was all-in now——not because it was the least-objectionable choice, not because he’d forced me, but because it was the right thing to do, the honorable thing. Liam had taught me the value of courtesy and honor. I couldn’t replicate adherence to his code of conduct, but I could certainly learn from it.
It had nothing to do with his hotness, or how he made me feel with every overly kind word.
No, not at all.
The money news could wait until he got home and we could celebrate together.
Home. That has a nice ring to it.
* * *
Liam
I had just finished my four o’clock meeting with Martin when my phone rang. It was Hue Schmulian getting back to me.
“Liam, I hope I’m not calling too late, but Felicia and I were wondering if you and Amy were free for dinner again tonight.”
“Not at all,” I assured him. “We’d love to. Why don’t you come by our place this evening? I bet you’ll enjoy Amy’s cooking as much as I do.”
“No doubt. That sounds wonderful. What time works for you? We don’t want to impose.”
We set the time as seven, and I gave him the address.
I dialed Amy.
