Chapter 7

“Well, well, well…” Evelyn sings when I burst through the door of our apartment, making a mad dash to my bedroom.

“Sorry!” I yell, realizing I never called my best friend to let her know all was well.

“Oh, my spidey senses were tingling when you left. I knew you were out and up to no good, but then I saw these,” she says suspiciously and I look over the stairs to see her holding a huge vase of red roses.

“How the hell did he get those here so fast?” I whisper to myself, rushing into my bathroom for a quick shower.

“So, who is this mystery Mr. Just?” I hear Evelyn above the hum of the showerhead. Great, she’s going to talk to me through the shower I was hoping would help me clear my head.

“Is that his name?” I scrunch my nose as the water falls over my head.

“Don’t tell me you spent the night with a man and don’t even know his name,” she shrieks, and I hear her move closer to the shower, before the glass door is flung open, a cold gust of wind rushing against my warm body.

“Christina Loraine McClemore!” Evelyn yells before I can object to her intrusion.

“Ev, I’m late for work, I have to go!” I sigh in exasperation before turning off the shower and reaching for my towel.

“Christy, you’re not a virgin anymore!” She exclaims, covering her mouth with her hand.

“What are you talking about?” I try to sound casual. There’s no way I can look different, is there?

“Ma’am, it’s a little late to play coy. There’s an entire handprint on your ass!” She tilts her head in sarcasm and I twirl like a puppy trying to catch my tail before seeing my reflection in the mirror, my pale ass covered in red bruises.

“Oh my God,” I gasp at my reflection.

“I’ll say! So, what’s his name?” Evelyn disrupts my stare down with my bruised bottom.

“Warren,” I absentmindedly answer, heading into my closet.

“Wait, Mr. Just is Warren? As in Warren Just?” She asks, gripping my forearm when I ignore her questions in search of an outfit for the day.

“Ev, I seriously don’t have time for this. I’ll tell you everything after work–” I begin before she cuts me off.

“Christy, he’s a fucking gazillionaire! Don’t tell me you’ve never heard of him,” she yelps, her face flush with excitement.

“Well, he did have a really nice apartment,” I shrug before yanking a black dress from a hanger and walking to my dresser for underwear.

“No, seriously. Christina, he owns half of Manhattan. You lost your virginity to a billionaire? Of course you did,” she scoffs, answering her own question.

“We’ll talk about this later, I promise,” I assure her, slipping my dress over my head and scrambling to grab my bag before rushing down the steps.

“You bet your red ass we will!” She calls after me and I can’t help but giggle at her need to embarrass me one last time, as if I’m not blushing enough.

“Hello, Miss McClemore. Ready for work?” Stanley asks as I exit my place, preparing to run to the train.

“Really?” I ask in shock. It was nice enough for Warren to have his driver bring me home, but I never expected him to wait out here and take me to work.

“Of course,” Stanley answers my shock with a smile before opening the back door to the Lincoln town car as I climb inside.

Thanks to Warren, and Stanley specifically, I actually make it to work early. Three women tell me I’m glowing before lunchtime, and I have to force myself to stop replaying the previous night’s events in my mind. It’s like a dream that I don’t want to forget, so I keep envisioning it, every single detail.

Just after I’ve left a classroom of second graders, my pocket vibrates and I nearly jump out of my skin. I usually leave my phone in my purse, but even when I do carry it, no one ever calls. Evelyn knows I’m working, and she’s about the only person interested in talking to me. When a private number pops up on the caller ID I debate not answering, but there’s a little hope that it could be the man responsible for my glow.

“Hello,” I answer on the third ring, butterflies already fluttering in my belly.

“Christina,” It’s his curt voice, pronouncing my name so formal as opposed to the groaning version I prefer.

“Mr. Just,” I mock his tone, and if I’m not mistaken I actually hear him smile.

“How are you?” He asks flatly.

“Well,” I begin before glancing over my shoulders to make sure no one can hear me, “My ass is covered in red marks, but besides that, I’m pretty good.”

Warren bursts into a throaty laugh and I beam with pride at being able to make him loosen up. He’s so in control that even a smile from him feels like an accomplishment.

“Is that funny to you?” I feign seriousness as his laughter subsides.

“Was it worth it?” His voice is dark and lustful, the breath catches in my throat as all my wit escapes me in the blink of the eye.

“Come out with me,” he says slowly, in a soft yet demanding tone.

“Out with you? Like, on a date?” I perplex, knowing it’s against the rules he so clearly set last night.

“I wouldn’t say a date,” he pauses and I remain silent, forcing him to expound. “It’s dinner. A couple of friends, good food, good wine, nothing too formal,” he tries to sound casual, but I can sense this is unusual for him.

“Hmm,” I hum into the phone as if I’m contemplating my decision.

“Please?” He adds in a bashful, pleading tone and I want to rush to wherever he is and beg him to ravish me on the spot.

“Yes,” I breathe into the phone, deciding that’s a more appropriate response.

“Perfect. I’ll pick you up at eight,” his stern tone returns before he abruptly ends the call.

My chest is heaving as I stand in the hallway, actually trying to catch my breath. After a single phone call! This man drives me crazy in the best way.

The rest of the day is spent reminiscing about the previous night and daydreaming what I should expect from this evening. The school day has just ended when it occurs to me – if Evelyn said he’s super rich, his friends probably are too. What on Earth will I wear to dinner with them? Hurriedly, I pull out my smartphone to call my best friend. She has a closet full of designer clothes and I’ll need her help if I’m going to avoid an evening of embarrassment.

“Well, if it isn’t Cinderella herself,” Evelyn answers on the first ring.

“Careful now, that would make you my evil step-sister,” I tease and she giggles.

“Are you calling to check on your delivery?” She chirps and my nose scrunches as I try to remember if I’ve made any online purchases recently.

“Is it from Amazon?” I ask, trying to remember if I completed that order for a new iPad case.

“Umm, last I checked Amazon didn’t sell Gucci, but they may have a VIP section unavailable to peasants like myself,” she is dripping with sarcasm and I can’t stop the laugh in my throat. We both burst into giggles before I tell her to wait for me to open the box as I rush to the train station.

Evelyn meets me at the door to our apartment and together we open the box Warren had sent while I was at work. There’s a short black Gucci dress with red details, the fabric is so soft I actually hold it against my face to feel the luxury against my skin. There’s also a pair of black pumps with a red-and-white snake-like design along the trim, and a clutch purse to match the shoes. Lastly, there’s a small bright blue box closed with a thick white ribbon. Evelyn gasps when I pick up the box, and even I’ve watched enough movies to know it’s from Tiffany’s. Opening the box, my mouth drops open as the princess-cut diamond earrings sparkle remarkably.

“Where the hell is he taking you?” Evelyn finally asks after a long pause between us.