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“I said enough.”
I needed no reminder that my wealth and status invited fucked-up relationships. Add in the kink, and I was in an excellent position to fail. Sometimes I thought about marriage, romance, the classic family, but it would only end up in another bitter St. Clair divorce. I rubbed my forehead with a groan.
“Jesus,” said Dev. “Who is she? I gotta know.”
“You don’t need to know, because I’m not going to get involved with her.”
“From the way you’re acting, you’re already involved, my friend.”
I sat back in my chair, crossing one leg over the other. I had to tell someone. I had to get it out, put the frustration into words so I could get over it. “You remember the girl we saw that night? The messed-up girl outside Underworld?”
“I knew it.” He clapped his hands, the sound reverberating through the quiet lounge. “I knew you slept with her when you took her home, you fucking creepo.”
“I didn’t sleep with her. She was drunk. Will you keep your voice down?”
“You hooked up with her afterward?”
“We haven’t hooked up.” My hands fisted in my lap. I tried to release the tension before Dev noticed, but he noticed everything.
“Well, I’ll be.” He laughed. “There’s a woman in New York who doesn’t want you. She a lesbian?”
“No.”
“Asexual?”
I pressed the heels of my palms to my eyes, wishing I could go back in time and not text Devin that I was here in Paris. “I think it’s almost time for my flight.”
“Okay. So whatever’s going on, you and the drunk girl aren’t working out.”
“Her name is Juliet, and no, we’re not working out. I couldn’t bring her to The Gallery anyway, so that’s a nonstarter.”
“It’s not just a nonstarter,” said Dev in a hard voice. “It’s an ender. I don’t know this drunk girl—”
“Juliet.”
He rolled his eyes. “I don’t know Juliet from Adam, but if you think she’s a bad idea, then she’s a bad idea. Trust your gut. Run the other way.”
“Running is a shit move.”
“Inviting drama is a shit move, but you do it time and time again.”
“You’re an asshole,” I said to Devin, an understatement.
His light, direct gaze betrayed no guilt. “Just trying to save you some hassle, friend. You’re the one who likes things to be neat and clean.”
He was right. I craved precision and predictability, my life’s events clicking together like luxury watch gears. “This is a tough one,” I said with a sigh. “She has this energy. She’s unconventional. She works in the art world, as Goodluck Boundless’s manager.”
“Whos-it whats-it’s manager?”
“Goodluck Boundless. He’s this famous photographer. Why don’t you know anything about the New York art scene?”
“Oh, I don’t know, Fort. Maybe because I’m not a pretentious jerk-off, hanging around museums and art galleries pretending ugly shit looks good. There’s only one Gallery I care about, and it needs you back. If this Juliet woman knew the shit you’re into…”
“She’s kinky,” I said, a pathetic straw-grasp. “She identifies as a submissive.”
“An Underworld submissive. She’s not of our world,” he lisped in an affected voice.
“She might be, if she knew about it.” I made a fist and hit the arm of my chair. “She’s intense, you know? With this whole big, emotional world she carries around.”
