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“Ten million?” I repeated, my mouth dry.
“Ten million,” confirmed Tanya. “And the average cardholder has a net worth of something like a hundred million. Trust me, I know,” she said ruefully. “My first ex had one, and I used to get to use it.”
My mouth dropped open now, looking like a dead fish, lips blubbery and wide. Slowly, I took the card from Tanya’s hands, my fingers sliding over the cool metal, the deep grey burnished with a rose hue.
“It must be called the Palladium because it’s plated with palladium metal, isn’t it?” I asked, more to myself than anyone else. “That’s what gives it this pink color.”
Tanya nodded sagely.
“Yep, you don’t know much about money but at least you know your periodic table,” she smirked. “Look it up on Wiki, you’ll see. But honey, I thought you said you were dating your delivery man. How in the world did a delivery guy get a card like this? It’s his name on it, right?”
I shook my head, my brain going at a hundred miles an hour, the world dropping out from under my feet. Because howdidTucker have this card? How in the world could a humble delivery man be a millionaire, if not a billionaire?
“Let’s go,” I said tightly, getting up from the table, not answering her question.
We walked back to work, my head down, striding as fast as I could with Tanya trailing me, peppering me with questions that I couldn’t answer, didn’t want to hear.
“Where does Tucker live? Oooh, is his apartment fancy?”
“Does Tucker have any rich male friends? Do you think he could set me up with someone? I’d really appreciate it.”
The questions just made me angry. Because the fact is, I wasn’t sure of anything anymore. Was the apartment in Tribeca some fake, just a prop he used to seduce women? And who were Tucker’s friends? The people in the Mediterranean had never shown up, never called as far as I knew, maybe they didn’t even exist.
Fuck, I felt so stupid, so dumb. I’d been so trusting, just a naïve girl who’d been taken by a handsome man again, a master who fed me whatever I wanted to hear. Most likely Tucker had been spinning a web of lies and I’d believed it all, eating it up, no questions asked, living in my own personal La-La Land.
Why hadn’t I learned? The terrible experience with Gary had been so recent, burned me so deep, and yet here I was, making all the same mistakes just months later. Suddenly, I hated myself, loathing everything that made me me, filled with disgust for my body, my mind, my behavior.
Sitting at my desk seething, I trembled, shuddered and jerked, trying to keep my emotions subdued. But there was a tidal wave welling up inside, the bile rising bitter and venomous in my throat, my stomach churning and heaving uncontrollably. I couldn’t take it anymore and jumped up, shaking, almost coming apart with rage. I was going to confront Tucker right now, this was a fucking emergency, and there was nothing more important. So grabbing my purse, I rushed out of the building without a second glance, if I got fired, then so be it, there were other jobs out there.
With my brows drawn, face set, I strode to the subway with purposeful strides. Because I was headed to the offices of NYC Concierge, goddamn if I waited until getting home to confront the big man. And if the blow-up was in front of his unsuspecting co-workers, then so be it, they’d be getting an eyeful and an earful up the wazoo because things were volcanic now, and I didn’t care who knew.
18
Tucker
My feet up on my desk, I chewed on a pencil thoughtfully as I read through a four hundred page report. This white paper about the market for elite delivery services was so fucking off that it made my eyes bleed. The supposed “consultants” we’d hired for the study didn’t understand the sector at all and had put together a four hundred page pile of shit, a tome that I’d skimmed the first ten pages of and then put down, disgusted.
I wiped a hand over my eyes, pinching the bridge of my nose. Fuck, I was so tired. I worked like a dog during the day and then beat feet to get home to see my best girl. But it wasn’t like I got a ton of rest and relaxation once the sun set. Fuck no, I was fucking Laurie all night, two, three times before dawn, sometimes even four.
And it was good, real good. I couldn’t get enough of her, couldn’t shoot enough sperm into that tiny pussy, couldn’t bobble those breasts enough times, lick her asshole and make her scream, it was that amazing. And fuck, but even the impossible had come to pass. Walking home one day, I’d passed by a fine jewelry store, its goods gleaming in glass cases and something made my feet turn as if magnetized, my hand opening the door and stepping in.
I wasn’t sure what I was doing, a man in a trance. But when the saleslady came up, my mouth opened automatically and I said the words “engagement ring.” Can you believe it? Tucker McGrath, confirmed bachelor and complete asshole, was shopping to get married. And when the sales associate brought out a velvet tray with a couple different selections, there was a feeling of rightness in my gut. Because Laurie and I belonged together, she was the white to my black, the yin to my yang, the soft to my hard. And the best thing I could do, probably the smartest thing I’d ever do in my life was to put a ring on it, make her mine in every way possible, mark her before the world.
So the ring sat in my desk drawer even now, locked up, buried among a ton of useless crap. It was a beauty, I’d spent seven figures on a seven carat heart-shaped diamond, it’d probably weigh her hand down, it was that big. But that’s how serious I was about making her mine. I wanted every fucking male in the City to see that diamond and know that Laurie belonged tome.
Lost in my thoughts, I didn’t hear our receptionist Nora tiptoe over.
“Mr. McGrath,” she said quietly, standing next to me. “There’s a young lady here to see you.”
That was weird. Usually Nora emailed if we had a visitor, there was no need to make the announcement in person. And if you’re wondering about our office space, yes, it’s an open plan. We don’t have separate offices, just long rows of desks, the set-up modern, roomy, eco-friendly with both a foosball table and a ping-pong table. Yeah, we’re that start-up, the one with all the free food and games, impossibly hip, all our employees young and brainy.
And even I, as CEO, worked out in the open, there was nothing to distinguish me from anyone else except the fact that I had two monitors, one right next to the other. But hey, even that wasn’t a dead giveaway. After all, this was a progressive workplace where people had standing desks or sat on yoga balls, so my double monitors didn’t stick out that much.
But as I looked up, I saw why Nora had made the announcement in person, practically whispering next to me. Because Laurie was here, and she looked fine. My girl was like a dream materializing in our offices, curvy, jiggly, that curly brown hair tied behind her head, everything accentuated with a pencil skirt and turtleneck sweater. I’d begged Laurie to buy more form-fitting stuff, I loved seeing her breasts and ass outlined in tight clothes, couldn’t wait to rip them off when we were home.
But the brunette had seen me now and was shooting daggers across the open work space, her brown eyes darkening to black, furious in their glare. Oh shit. What had happened? Had she gotten fired? Laid off? It didn’t matter because money isn’t an issue when you’re me.
Laurie came marching over, not caring that my employees were staring from the corners of their eyes and came to stand by my desk, hands on her hips.
