A Billionaire's Revenge

Ch. 18: Guilt

Carmen

Being friends with Sienna has its perks, but sometimes, it can be difficult. My billionaire best friend wanted to link up for drinks at this fancy bar located on the Upper East Side. I may work on the Upper East Side, but I don't belong here. Not by a long shot.

This is the type of place where the lights are so dimly lit you can hardly see where you're going, and even though it's illegal to smoke indoors, none of the wait staff dares to tell the businessmen puffing a cigar in the corner to quit. The people here are entitled—they hold an immense amount of power in this city, which means they can get away with anything.

Vintage Chanel, Valentino, and Saint Laurent are what most of the women are wearing. Expensive perfumes and whispered gossip make me keenly aware that I'm in prestigious company. I don't like getting jealous over trivial things, but I can't help it. I've been obsessed with fashion since I came to America. The first thing I purchased with my own money was a copy of Vogue, and ever since, I've strived to get to a place in life where I can afford luxury brands. Coming here is a terrifying reminder of how far away I am from that goal.

"Hey, guys!" Riley waves us to a booth, and I can't slide in fast enough. The lingering stares of disapproval around us have my stomach clenching and my gaze dropping to my feet. Normally, I'm a confident woman, but put me in a bar full of wealthy White people?

Yeah, I'm uncomfortable.

"This is Margo," Riley gushes. She grabs the woman's hand beside her, grinning from ear to ear. She told me she'd started seeing Lincoln's assistant after Riley made a flower delivery to his office and Margo was the one who accepted them. It was love at first sight for the two love birds, and they've been inseparable for three months now. However, this is the first time I'm meeting her.

Reaching across the booth, I stick out a hand for her to shake—the one that isn't held hostage by my best friend. "Carmen. It's nice to meet you."

"Likewise," she replies. "I've heard a lot about you."

Archer's hand lands on my knee beneath the table. He gives it a gentle squeeze before he leans into my ear to whisper, "I'm glad we're doing this tonight. You know, hanging out with our friends."

"Me too," I say, searching desperately for a bartender.

    '

The truth is, ever since Corden left the shop earlier this afternoon, I haven't been able to stop thinking about him. How dare he come into the shop and risk unveiling everything I've tried relentlessly to keep hidden? And I had the opportunity to tell him to get lost, only for me to say nothing at all. I allowed him to leave believing he had a chance, but I'm with Archer and intend to keep it that way. He's the safer option.

No.

The better option.

As if I'm in some sort of mirage, the man in my mind is suddenly standing right in front of me. I blink to try and clear the ridiculous hallucination, but...it isn't going away. Corden is sliding into the booth next to Archer with a smug grin tugging at his lips. "Sorry I'm late," he says, scanning his eyes around the table. "Margo, good to see you."

Her upper lip curls in response. "Can't say the same."

They don't like each other?

Then again, Corden seems to love annoying people to an insanely high degree. He might not be Margo's cup of tea, but it feels like I'm missing a huge piece of the puzzle here. Then again, why would I know anything when it comes to his personal life? Corden is vastly different from Jett, so maybe Margo's reasoning for disliking him is valid.