Neon magenta.
To match her hair.
And while I don’t feel very chief financial officer-ish in this exact moment, I find I can breathe again.
“Begonia.”
“Yes, Hayes?”
“You’re a very good friend. Don’t fuck me over.”
“Someone hurt you very badly, didn’t they?”
Yes.
Yes, they did.
“Tell Nikolay to bring you here and then run out for whatever else it is you’re convinced I need. I’ll see you in ten minutes.”
18
Begonia
I look at Hayes’s square-jawed bodyguard as I disconnect my phone, and my face must be showing something, because his eyes start twinkling and he wipes a hand over his mouth like he’s trying to hide a smile.
“Mr. Rutherford is not a fan of pizza,” he tells me.
“Then where’s the best fried chicken in town? He needs something orgasmic. Coconut cream pie. No, too many people don’t like coconut and we haven’t had that discussion yet. A fudge brownie sundae and fried chicken and biscuits. Biscuits. We definitely need biscuits. I’ve tried everything else. It’s time for comfort food.”
“This way to the limo, Ms. Begonia.”
My phone rings again as I start to follow him, and I’m answering, assuming it’s Hayes again, before my brain can process the name on the readout, and suddenly I’m gaping at my phone in horror while my mother’s voice rings out. “Hello? Begonia? Begonia, are you there?”
Marshmallow whimpers, cowers to the ground, and covers his face with his paw.
Nikolay mutters something to him in Russian, then jerks his head at me like he’s saying, Come. The billionaire is waiting, and if you think your mother’s terrifying, wait until you see Hayes Rutherford displeased.
And now I’m rolling my eyes.
I’ve seen Hayes angry, and I’d rather relive that moment he found me in his bathroom seven thousand times over than take this call with my mother.
But I’m a grown-up, so I put the phone to my ear and reply to the woman I’ve been avoiding. “Hello, Mom.”
“You’re dating the world’s last eligible billionaire!”
“No, Mom, we’re having a torrid fling and I’m on my way to have loud, noisy, earth-shattering sex with him in public in a park just to horrify people, and then I’ll—”
Nikolay makes another noise, and I realize other people could overhear me and take me seriously.
And then I’d cause a scandal for Hayes, whose family is expected to model ideal, buttoned-up family perfection every waking minute of the day, and now I’m mad.
Why can’t they be allowed to be normal? And have fuck-ups and scandals and regrets?
Why do they have to look like the epitome of perfection when perfection isn’t freaking possible and the pursuit of perfection only makes them miserable?
I mean, I assume there’s a part of them that’s miserable.
Look at poor Hayes.
It sounded like it cost him his entire bank account to tell me he trusts me. That’s not normal, and it’s not fair, and I hate it.
Marshmallow whimpers and rubs his body against me while we march out of The Egg and to the car waiting on the street. “I’m kidding, Mom,” I say loudly. “Of course we won’t do that.”
Nikolay winces.
I know, I know. I’m not very convincing. I shouldn’t have been convincing when telling my mom I’d be doing wicked, wicked things in public, but my temper is awful.
At least, I feel like it’s awful.
Hyacinth laughs at me every time I tell her I had a temper tantrum. I’m apparently not very good at them.
I should put learn to have better temper tantrums on my bucket list.
“Are you getting married?” Mom asks. “Is this a rebound thing, or is this a potential forever thing?”
Nikolay opens the door to the limo, and I climb in after Marshmallow. “It’s a one-day-at-a-time thing with a guy who stuck up for me when his mother insulted me.”
She sucks in a breath. “His mother? Giovanna Rutherford? You met his mother? And she didn’t like you either? Dear god, Begonia, what did you do to her?”
“I breathed wrong, Mom.”
“Begonia! You can’t go around breathing wrong when you’re dating a billionaire! Especially around his mother! What’s she going to think about the way I raised you?”
“I don’t know. Maybe she’ll think you raised me to date normal men, since that would make more sense for where we lived and the social circles we move in?”