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“If you need a lesson on how to get a date—and I’m sure you do—I would be happy to oblige,” Reed says.
We all laugh. Even though the dig is a little close to home for Cole, who doesn’t really do real relationships, we’re all close enough friends to take a little shit talking. Reed is definitely the ladies’ man of our group, with model good looks and a lopsided smile that has women falling all over themselves to be the one on his arm.
“I think what Cole’s too polite to say is that if you keep making a sport of getting women into your bed, you’re eventually going to lose,” I point out.
“That’s just a matter of statistics, honestly,” Cole says.
“Don’t talk math with me, man,” Reed complains. “Not in the mood.”
“You’re going to get into shit your publicist won’t be able to get you out of,” I warn him. “Mark my words.”
“I don’t want to hear it,” he says, waving my concerns away. “Look at you two. Talk about pots calling the kettle black.”
“Our breakups don’t end up as tabloid fodder for months,” Cole points out. “We keep it smart. Discreet.”
Reed scoffs. “Where’s the fun in discreet? Haven’t we reached a point in our lives when we don’t have to fucking sneak around? What are you, fourteen?”
“Nobody’s telling you that you have to sneak around,” I say, checking the cards in my hand. I make a show of rearranging them, but if I could give them all back, I would. Cole’s a shitty dealer—and a notorious card shark. He’s always been good with numbers though. It’s why his investment firm is so successful.
“The two of you probably put black hoods on your dates before taking them out to dinner,” Reed grouses. “Black ops style. Really romantic. Probably knocks their socks right off.”
Cole guffaws before stifling the laugh, since his nephew Archie is sleeping in another room and none of us want to wake him up.
“Your hookups are loud and messy,” I inform Reed, hedging my bets and returning three cards to Cole for replacements. “What the hell is wrong with call girls? They don’t talk as long as they’re paid well. Do you need a loan?”
“Do you need a chaperone?” Cole adds, studying his hand with a blank face.
“I need to get laid,” Reed groans, slapping his cards face down on the table. “Fold. This is bullshit. Why would she end things like this when it was going so well? I got no complaints from her in bed.”
“She knew you had a lot to lose,” Cole reasons, watching me and trying to gauge the kind of hand I have. “Face it. Your money—and your companionship—aren’t going to do as much for her as an ongoing tabloid saga. I bet she’s already got offers for a reality show.”
Reed delivers a look of such loathing to Cole that I bark a laugh.
“Don’t take it so personally,” I tell him. “You shouldn’t have taken her to your hotel.”
“Half the hotels in New York are my family’s,” Reed says. “And you all aren’t as public as I am. What did I do to deserve this kind of scrutiny?”
“There’s a reason we’re not as public as you,” I say, bluffing a raise among the chips in between Cole and me. “We have much more fun.”
“There’s a fulfillment from actually having to woo a woman that you robots are missing out on,” Reed says, huffing a breath. “I will give the first person who can even recall the name of one of their call girls a thousand dollars right this fucking minute.”
“Cassandra,” Cole says smoothly.
“You’re a terrible liar,” Reed answers flatly. “We all know it’s been months for you.”
Cole studies me for a long minute before folding. “Fine. It’s your hand. Let’s see them.”
“Absolutely not,” I say. I’m sure that Cole had something better in his hand, but I’m the one with the best poker face in the room.
And in life.
Because as messy as Reed’s last tryst has been, at least he had something to hold on to. Something real.
That’s something I thought I had with Sophie. Why did she have to take the fucking job? Why is it so goddamn important to her? I know she felt something for me too.
All I can do now is … nothing. Exactly nothing. Because nothing is going to happen. I’m not the kind of boss who fucks his employees. And as badly as I want Sophie arching up beneath me again, screaming my name, it’s not happening.
“Not going to share with the class?” Reed asks, eyeing me.
