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.
"I don't want to fuck him," I tell her. "However, I'm not blind."
I could lie straight through my teeth and say that Lincoln wasn't sculpted from the gods themselves, but there's a reason he's such a dick. Research came in handy before I met him for our disastrous meeting, so I knew what he looked like prior to seeing him, but it was July in the city, and he was sweating in his suit and a piece of his hair that was supposed to be slicked back had come un-done and was flopped onto his forehead in the sexiest way possible, the strands as black as midnight. There seemed to be so much mystery to Lincoln Nash, and yet...so much arrogance. How disappointing.
"Can I buy you ladies a drink?" A man asks as he approaches our table. His smile is welcoming, his build lean, but his eyes are focused solely on me.
"We're okay, thanks," I say, my tone clipped.
He places a large hand on the table of our booth, leaning close to my face until I can smell the whiskey radiating from his breath. I almost gag. "Oh, come on, darlin', you don't want to pay for drinks, do you? Let me buy some."
Carmen clicks her tongue, already knowing what's coming as my eyes narrow into his. If there's one thing I hate more than anything, it's for a man to think he can be some Prince Charming and come sweep me off my feet. I worked my ass off to make sure I'm my own Prince Charming. I don't need any man, and I never will.
"I could buy this entire bar if I wanted to," I say lowly into his ear. "It'd be a good investment, and it's probably profitable, but right now, I'm choosing to have a night out with my best friends, and that doesn't include men with bad breath. Now kindly go away before you see a side of me I assure you don't want to."
With a scoff, he stalks off towards his friends shooting pool, grumbling cuss words along the way. "He had it coming," Carmen says with a shrug. Her dark skin is gleaming under the lights of this bar, the brown in her eyes twinkling from my bitchy comment. She loves when I get sassy.
Shy and tentative Rylie continues to hold her eyes wide as she sips her wine. She hates conflicts of any kind, and if given the opportunity, she'd choose to hide somewhere in the dark until it's over. Despite not having a backbone though, she's our voice of reason. The calming nature Carmen and I always need. Without her, our trio would burn to the ground.
"Example A of why I won't fuck Lincoln Nash or any man for that matter," I tell them, "I'm not ready, and I'm still learning how to be...alone, without Reed. The townhome feels so...empty, still. Although I know I'm going to be just fine on my own, it still feels weird."
Rylie reaches a tiny hand of hers across the table to squeeze gently onto mine. "You're allowed to have that time to heal," she reassures. "I think it's wise to hold off for a while. Maybe try to get out of the house more, you know? Go to the library and read a book, do some yoga, literally anything other than work. You work yourself to the bone."
Carmen places her hand on top of both of ours, "I second this, but, if you're needing to let off some steam and use Lincoln Nash's dick to do so, I won't object."
At this, we all burst out into laughter.
***
After my little comment about how lonely it felt in my townhome, Rylie and Carmen refused to let me sleep alone tonight. We shared one of my cars back to my house nestled in the heart of the Upper East Side. It's a three-story building wrapped in ivy and brick, a black fence wrapped around the property to seal it in. I fell in love with this place the moment I saw it. It reminded me of Venice when I visited there years ago. Maybe it's time I make a trip back.
"Thank you," I tell TJ, my driver, sending him a warm smile, "I'll see you in the morning."
"Of course, Ms. Stone, have a good night."
The three of us truck through the gate and up the steps, Rylie swaying slightly from having too many glasses of wine. I'm not sure how her tiny body handled all four glasses. She's only five-four, a good four inches shorter than me, and yet she threw the wine back like she was a linebacker on a football team.
We take the elevator up to the third floor where my bedroom is, a huge bay window overlooking the city. The twinkling lights dance in the distance, but I can't linger my gaze any longer before Carmen cusses and jumps about twenty feet in the air. Muggles, my tabby cat, hisses towards the both of them and scurries off from being so skittish.
"I hate your cat," Carmen grumbles, slipping off her heels to toss on the wooden floor. "He's the absolute worst."
"He's truly not like this when you both aren't around. Don't be offended, though. He's mean to everyone aside from me." It's true. Muggles doesn't cuddle or purr with anyone but me, and when others are around, he acts like an entirely different cat.
I head into the bathroom to take my makeup off and do my skincare routine as Rylie and Carmen talk about upcoming arrangements and deliveries that are due tomorrow at the shop, but just as I'm about to grab my moisturizer, my heart catches when I see Reed's contact case sitting idly in my basket. He must have left it here, and I'm not sure why I'm just now noticing it.
It's dusty from the three months it hasn't been touched. I clutch it in my hands and let out a deep breath, attempting to shove the pain that I'm feeling somewhere else but my heart. I can't take much more of these reminders, especially when I see him every fucking day at the office. He was my assistant before he got promoted to running the AD campaigns, and when he broke off the engagement to choose someone else, he knew I couldn't fire him. It'd be a lawsuit waiting to happen. A part of me wonders if he just used me the entire time to move up in my company, only to throw me to the side the second he got the position he wanted.
And I'm not sure if I'll be able to trust anyone ever again because of it.
Suddenly, my phone vibrates on the sink, an email from Lincoln Nash.
From: Lnash@nashhotels.com
Subject: Professional
Ms. Stone,
Despite our conversation this afternoon, I assure you that I'm not working with you for any other reason except to gain your help and insight. The meeting this time will be one hundred percent professional. You have my word.
Where do you suggest we meet?
Best,
Lincoln Nash
CEO
Nash Enterprises, Inc.
Well, it's good to know at least that Lincoln isn't interested. Not that I'm worried that I'll give in, but...if I've learned anything, it's best to keep things between clients and employees strictly professional. I won't make the same mistake again.
To: Lnash@nashhotels.com
Subject: Tomorrow
Mr. Nash,
I'll have my assistant text you with the details in the morning, as it is late and I'd like to sleep on it before I decide. Hopefully, that's okay.
Regards,
Sienna Stone
CEO
Stone Media Entertainment
I don't expect him to reply, but as I'm brushing my teeth, my phone vibrates again with another email.
From: Lnash@nashhotels.com
Subject: Re: Tomorrow
Ms. Stone,
I'm looking forward to it. Sleep well.
Sincerely,
Lincoln Nash
CEO
Nash Enterprises, Inc.