If The Shoe Fits (Some Girls Do It #8) - May Sage Page 0,5

to invade his sanctuary on Saturday, but here they were, lounging on his Fendi couch, and sipping flute after flute of Krug.

“I’m not sure who decided being skinny is glamorous. Let’s face it, we all eat, and it has to go somewhere. If you’re a size two, it just means you poop a lot.” Richelle caught his eye over her champagne, and grinned. The brat knew just what kind of torture their inane conversations put him through.

Half an hour. Half an hour, and he’d be out of here. He was supposed to video conference with his business partner, James Montgomery, who was currently analyzing a potential expansion site in Australia. James was fourteen hours ahead, so they’d scheduled their call at nine.

Cade liked to spend as little time as possible in the office. His state-of-the-art penthouse was perfectly designed to optimize his work day.

At least, when Richelle wasn’t crashing there, after yet another separation with her latest husband.

“Tut tut. None of that. We don’t use the P-word in relation to ladies. We say we have a fast metabolism instead.” Her friend, Xue, was considerably less of a brat than his sister, but once they were tipsy, these ladies were terrors.

Fuck it. He was going to call James early.

“If you’d excuse me, ladies. Work beckons.” He got to his feet. “You know where the cellar is.”

“Work always beckons you, Cade,” Richelle shot back. “Be careful or you’ll end up bald, like Dad. All work and no play make Cade a dull, prematurely graying boy.”

He raised his middle finger, making the four girls giggle as he left the room.

He knew she wasn’t entirely mistaken, though. Cade grew up with a tight-knit group of friends, between the Upper East Side during the school year and the Hamptons in the summer, and he knew none of the other guys would have complained about having these women around. His sister aside, they were all highly attractive. Xue Wilcox had her mother’s classical beauty—long straight hair, dark, mesmerizing eyes, and perfect bone structure. She was as tall as her American father, making her a striking bombshell. Brooke Evans, an up-and-coming artist, rocked a short leather skirt and bloodred lips against a platinum bob. Her endless lashes and dark blue eyes would have made any man pause. Then there was Pen. As in Penelope Abbot, the girl everyone wanted and no one could even dream of. She’d been taken before she could spell her name. Betrothed or not, the brunette was gorgeous.

The others—Archer, Kenneth, David—would have at least tried to chat them up, regardless of the fact that Pen was off limits. Not Cade. He had no interest in any of the women he knew. He wanted something else—something more. Richelle ended up marrying three guys from their extended circle, and those relationships had been a stupid joke. They could barely even stand to be in the same house for more than a few hours. Sure, their combined assets exceeded that of a small country, but why would that matter? He had enough money. If he ever attempted to have a relationship, it would be with someone whose company he genuinely enjoyed. In the meantime, he stuck to shallow hookups. And Cade knew better than to go there with his sister’s friends.

He didn't know why, but his mind went back to the girl—the one he'd seen in the elevator at Vandorf, Inc. earlier that week. It had wandered to her more times than he cared to admit. Not that he didn't understand the appeal. Long dark hair, bright green eyes, and a mouth made for sin. She was a knockout. But Cade frequently enjoyed the company of top models. It was hardly the first time he'd encountered a pretty girl. Still, she stayed with him. Perhaps his fascination had something to do with the way she’d looked at him, her every thought written on her features. Shock, and unadorned bewilderment, as though he confounded her. Then, she’d blushed, like an ingenue. Cade didn’t meet many women who still blushed after nothing more than a glance. His circle was made up of perfectly behaved socialites who never showed any true feeling, unless they saw an advantage to it.

Chasing thoughts of the girl he didn’t know away, he locked himself in his office, heading to a cabinet to retrieve a tumbler and a bottle of scotch before circling the sculptural desk he hated.

The thing was asymmetrical, made of carved stone and glass. He never had enough room for his