Marrying My Billionaire Hookup - Nadia Lee Page 0,81
and personal shopper, she told me to look up people who’d accomplished what I wanted to accomplish and seek their advice. And right now, what I want is what my parents have—a loving home, a close-knit family and a wonderful life with the man who loves me.
Feeling silly I didn’t think of it sooner and giddy because it’s going to be so much easier to ask Mama for a minute of her time, I drive toward her office. She should be in. It’s not even three yet.
The regional corporate office is downtown, housed in a sleek but not ostentatious skyscraper. I park my car and check in with security in the cool lobby. I’ve been here a few times, but mostly to have lunch or coffee with Mama. I don’t buy jewelry from the chain she manages. They cater to middle-class people, providing excellent value. I’ve seen the pieces, and they’re well priced. But my clientele prefers pieces that make a statement: Look at me. I’m important. And amazing.
I take the elevator to the sixth floor, where the doors open to pale gray industrial carpet and frosted-glass partitions and walls. The receptionist is new, and I sign in with her and make my way to Mama’s corner office.
Her assistant Maggie is staring at her laptop, clicking her mouse furiously. She’s a slight woman, with a bob the color of pale steel and her makeup perfect. She’s sixty-six, but hasn’t retired yet because Mama hasn’t been able to find a suitable replacement. I also suspect it’s because Maggie likes the generous employee discount. A simple strand of white pearls circles her neck, a pair of pearl and diamond earrings sparkles on her earlobes, and a classic square emerald ring winks on her finger. They’re all things the chain would sell.
She looks up and smiles. “Hi, Jo. I didn’t know you were coming.”
“I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d stop by. See if my mother’s around,” I say, hoping I sound casual and carefree. Then I frown, realizing that Mama could be visiting one of the stores or in a meeting. Crap. “Is she available?”
“Yes. She just got done with a call with some buyers. You can go in.” Maggie gestures. “Her next meeting isn’t for another hour.”
I flash her a grateful smile. “Thanks.”
I push past the frosted-glass door, inhaling to control my nerves.
Mama’s at her desk, her hair pristine and her blue skirt suit basic and corporate. Although she has a corner office with a view of the city, her working space is plain, with the focus on productivity rather than proclaiming success. Her modern desk holds a laptop, a phone, a few pens and a yellow legal pad. There are an armchair and a couch with a low table in case she needs a space to hold a small meeting.
Mama sees me, gets up and comes around the desk to hug me hard. “Hi, baby. What are you doing here?”
“Um, you know, this and that,” I say, suddenly unsure how to start.
Should’ve figured out a good opening on my way here. Hey, how much can I screw up and still have the happy ending that you have? isn’t the best.
When she raises an eyebrow, I clear my throat and add, “I just…want to talk to you.”
“Uh-oh. Sounds serious. What’s it about?”
She leads me to the sitting area. I plop down on the couch. Instead of taking the armchair, she parks herself next to me.
“It’s not that terrible,” I say.
Really? A sex tape isn’t so bad?
I ignore the judging voice in my head. Instead, I take a deep breath to calm my hammering heart and start with how I met Edgar, then to the one-night stand—glossing over the details, obviously—and then Aaron’s Plan B and how Edgar took care of it. I leave out the part about Hugo’s involvement. He did it to try to help, and I don’t want him to get into trouble.
“And now Edgar wants me to move in with him for four months. And I don’t know what to do,” I say to my thumbs, then shrug to hide the discomfiture. The judging voice is right. A sex tape is a big deal, even if it’s been taken care of. I can’t even meet Mama’s eyes out of embarrassment.
“Oh, baby.” She reaches over and squeezes my hand. “You should’ve said something.”
Her sympathy soothes the jagged edges of my shame, but at the same time, it makes me feel about an inch tall. I totally made a