A Billionaire's Mistake

3|Muggles

Chapter Three: Muggles

Sienna

Carmen and Rylie are in a fit of full-blown laughter by the time I'm finished with the events from this afternoon. Carmen is trying to hold in the water from spewing out of her mouth and Rylie has her jaw dropped open almost on the damn table. I'll admit, it is a good story. Funny, indeed.

"He asked you to go home with him?" Carmen asks after she finally swallows the liquid down, bursting out into another fit of laughter. "Does he know who he's messing with? Oh, this is rich. This is good."

Rylie lifts her eyes from the menu. "Wait, so did he know it was supposed to be a meeting, or..."

I shake my head. "I don't think so. He emailed me a couple of hours after asking me to lunch tomorrow to apologize for it. He wants to explain."

"Did you tell him you'd go?" Rylie asks.

I take a sip of my martini and shrug. "I have to. His business is..." I trail off, trying to figure out how much I really want to confide in them. I know they wouldn't say anything since they're my best friends and have kept much worse secrets than this, but spilling someone else's information doesn't feel right. "It needs a lot of work," I decide to say, "and the sooner we can get started on it the better."

The amount Lincoln offered me was double what I normally make for a project as big as this one, and as much of a dick as he was today, I'd be an idiot to turn down the offer. Although, given the downward trend of his sales, I'm wondering if he ran the expense of my working with his company by his financial advisor. If he even has one.

Carmen reaches across the table to grab another mozzarella stick and bites an end off. "Enough about the nitty gritty," she drawls, waving her hand in a rapid manner, "get to the good stuff. Is he as hot as he looks in pictures? I looked him up when you texted his name in the group chat and holy hell."

Rylie shoots her a glare. "She doesn't need to be looking, Car. It's only been three months."

It's an effort not to stare down at my bare left hand where a ring once felt familiar, the aching in my chest now only mildly dull rather than feeling the twist of a dagger like when Reed first ended the engagement.

I gulp and chug down the rest of my martini, wincing from the abrupt sear of alcohol coursing through my veins. This is the first time I've gone out to a bar with my girls since the breakup, and honestly, I'm not quite sure that I'm ready. I'm not naive to the fact that I'm attractive, and that's not to be cocky, it's just something I've been told my entire life. I've grown accustomed to the awkward lingering stares from men, but right now, it's too soon to feel those stares. I'm not ready to get back out there. I'm not sure if I ever will be.

"Finding someone attractive doesn't mean she wants to fuck them," Carmen adds pointedly, then moves her gaze to me again, "unless you want to, then, by all means, sweetie, take Lincoln for a ride before I do."

I hold back a laugh, rolling my eyes as I stare out at the mingling groups of people. Carmen and Riley chose a bar down the street from their floral shop on the Upper East Side, the sun outside just starting to set.

I met both of them when I first started this business. They trusted me before I was even accredited, and a year after they opened five years ago, with help from me, they've become the place to shop for any flower arrangement you could possibly imagine. Their business is flourishing, and because of it, they helped me jump-start my business as well, despite what they may think. My first ever customers turned into lifelong friends. I will forever be thankful.

Carmen, who is fiercely loyal to the bone, is also not afraid to speak her mind. About anything. Thus the question about whether or not I want to fuck Lincoln Nash.