Page 77 of Fake It For Glory

JENSEN

It was good to be home. Good but weird. We got home yesterday. I didn’t realize how weird it was going to be to sleep alone after almost a full week of Merida in my bed.

I stared out the window, lost in thought as my mind drifted back to the time I had spent with Merida. The way her silky hair felt against my fingertips as I ran them through her locks, the way her body fit perfectly against mine, and the way her lips tasted on mine. It was all so exhilarating.

But now, as I stood in my quiet apartment all alone, I felt a sense of emptiness. It was like a part of me was missing, and I couldn’t shake the feeling. I didn’t know what the rules were. Was I allowed to ask her to stay over with me? If she did stay over, did I have to pay her? That would be too weird. I wasn’t going to pay her to sleep with me.

The door buzzed, alerting me to Christian’s arrival. I opened the door to my penthouse perched high above the New York skyline on billionaire’s row. The view of Central Park from my living-room windows stretched out like a sprawling emerald carpet. It was ostentatious and way too much for one guy, but I couldn’t resist. It was a gorgeous apartment with a view that was worth every penny. And I liked the clout. I was proud of my achievements, and I didn’t mind spending a little money to live like a king.

Christian was standing in my personal lobby with a six pack of one of our favorite IPAs. He made a big show looking me up and down. “You’re alive and well.”

“You didn’t think I would be?”

Christian handed me a bottle as he stepped into my luxurious home and looked around with mock horror. “Jensen, your place needs a makeover. I mean, seriously, when are you going to get some decent furniture in here? It looks like a total slum in here.”

I chuckled at his playful banter, closing the door behind him. “Always the interior design critic,” I replied. “I’ll have you know that minimalist chic is all the rage.”

He grinned, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Well, then, consider me old fashioned.”

I led him to the living room, where sleek modern furniture adorned the space and the floor-to-ceiling windows showcased the stunning view. I walked to the bar in the corner and grabbed a bottle opener. I opened my beer and tossed the opener to Christian.

He caught it effortlessly, popping the cap with practiced ease. “So, what’s the plan for tonight?” he asked.

I shrugged, settling onto the couch. “Nothing,” I replied. “I’m spent. I have been busting my ass. I need a night in.”

Christian took a sip of his beer, savoring the flavor. “You know, if you ever get tired of this place, you can always trade up. I heard there’s a new penthouse on the market for a cool billion.”

I laughed heartily. “Oh, sure, let me just check my piggy bank for loose change.”

We settled into the plush couches, sipping our beers and catching up on the latest gossip in our very small group of friends and acquaintances.

“What happened with Reid?” he asked. “That shit was wild.”

“I take it you saw the video,” I said, laughing.

Reid was well known in our circle. Christian was comfortable financially, but he wasn’t at billionaire status. That made him “lesser than” in Reid’s eyes. Christian could care less about Reid’s opinion of him, but there was tension between them. Always had been.

He nodded. “I did see the video. About fifty times. I couldn’t stop watching the part when Reid begged you to come get your woman. Have you seen how bad he’s getting roasted?”

I shook my head. “Hattie was prepared to go full court press and shut down the story, but it worked itself out. We read a few comments, but I try not to read too much of that stuff.”

Christian chuckled. “Yeah, I don’t blame you. The internet can be brutal.”

I finished my beer and leaned back into the cushions. “She laid into him,” I said, grinning. “How did you see the video?”

He laughed and looked a little embarrassed. “Tik Tok.”

I rolled my eyes. “I cannot believe you watch that drivel.”

“You’re a tech guy, you’re not supposed to shit on technology,” he said. “You have to know what your competition is doing.”

I scoffed. “As if that’s my competition. I’m playing chess, they’re playing checkers.”

He laughed at my arrogance. It was true. My tech was on an entirely different level than some silly video platform.

“That’s the woman you got from the dating agency?” he asked.

“You make it sound like she’s a pack of beef,” I said. “I didn’t get her.”