Home > Unscrupulous (The Manhattanites #2)(33)

Unscrupulous (The Manhattanites #2)(33)
Author: Avery Aster

“I call Provo weekly and leave messages at the house—”

“And?”

“My parents don’t call me back.” Kiki shrugged.

“Why?” She didn’t understand.

“They’re trying to manipulate me into giving my Manhattan dreams up and—”

“What?”

“Mom and Dad want me home.”

“Keep calling your folks. Once they get how serious you are about living here, they’ll come around.” Taddy didn’t want to see Kiki in pain. The ache in her heart when her parents stopped calling her while she boarded at Avon Porter had nearly killed her. There had to be a way for Kiki to secure her family’s support and thrive in this city. “It’s not as if you’re no longer their daughter.”

“I do everything they taught me to do. I pay my tithing. I attend church and take institute classes.”

“No wonder you don’t have any fun in your life.”

“It’s what we Mormons do, Miss Brill. I don’t understand what else will make my family happy.”

Taddy poured Kiki a glass of water from the pitcher on her desk. She handed Kiki the glass along with more tissues and waited in silence for her to catch her breath. The family drama, breast surgery, the new attention she received, working twenty-four seven, Brill Inc., having romance—even if exclusive to online—and a trip to Cannes perhaps overwhelmed Kiki.

“Are you nervous about meeting DJ Dejon?” She remembered her first crush. He’d attended the Connecticut Military Academy a few miles down the street from Avon Porter. They’d met at her freshman dance. Christ almighty, he screamed beautiful. So hung. Total gorgeousness. What the flip did I nickname him? Ah yes, the drill sergeant.

“No, we talk online nightly.” Her blue eyes dried while she gulped the water. “It’ll be similar to seeing an old friend.”

“Yes, but you’re not going to be friends with him, darling. You’re going to be his special friend.” Please get your Pollyanna-hymen torn. I blackmailed a Fortune 500 CEO to get you to Europe.

“What do you mean?” Kiki blinked in obvious confusion.

“Who’s your best friend here in the city?” She glanced over her friends’ photos featuring images of Lex, Blake and Vive. From college, a picture of her with her artist friend Miguel Santana sat in the middle. And her media bud who she’d met since opening her agency, talk show host Poppy White. They outranked any real family. In the New Year, she’d thrown out the Brayden Brooks photos on her desk and replaced them with the real people in her life.

“I don’t have any friends in Manhattan, Miss Brill.”

“Not even in Jersey City?” People had friends over there, didn’t they? Taddy couldn’t imagine but she hoped it was possible.

“Nope.”

“At church?”

Her assistant shook her head in embarrassment.

Taddy hoped her questions would motivate Kiki to socialize and create new pals. Her assistant worked as hard as Taddy—which wasn’t good. Ever since she’d made the no-man-fucking-for-a-year agreement with Lex and Vive last December, she felt miserable. Rich? Without question. But wealth did not equate to joy. “I’m your friend, Kiki.” She handed her assistant another tissue after noticing tears pour.

“Thank you.”

“Monsieur Jérôme du Tautou has you and DJ Dejon seeing films at the Grand Théâtre Lumière. The screenings are within walking distance of your hotel. These films compete for the Palme d’Or.” She feared Kiki might get confused. There were hundreds of production companies promoting their films this year. Some not even associated with the official program. It would be easy to get them mixed up. “Stick to the schedule he’s put together for you.”

“Yes ma’am.”

She pulled out a folder on Cannes she’d created for Kiki’s trip. “Here are the details. I’ve included my Amex card with you on the account giving you spending money.” Taddy reflected on the trips she’d enjoyed over the years—Frankfurt, Singapore, Oslo, Genève, Zurich—the list went on and on. Three passport books later, not once had anyone paid her way for anything—ever. It felt good to do it for Kiki as she didn’t expect much from anyone.

“Yes ma’am, thank you.” She took the folder. “I’ve never stayed at a Warner Truman property. I feel important.”

“You are special, Kiki!”

“I mean famous. I’m so excited.” Her assistant’s innocent smile graced her features.

Glancing out the window at Truman Times Square, she confirmed, “His hotels are wonderful.” They are overpriced. But the vajazzle spa service and private clubs are worth every penny. Her mind hadn’t tripped on St. Barth’s in a while. As hard as it’d been, she’d pushed Big Daddy far from her mind. No smart woman obsessed over someone else’s boyfriend, fiancé or husband.

“Jose helped me cart over some accessory items from your penthouse. You mentioned I could take whatever caught my attention.” Kiki pulled the box from the far side of Taddy’s desk up. The one she’d come in with. She placed it on the chair next to Taddy. Tearing the lid off, she took out a bronze handbag.

Taddy thought she’d lost the Judith Leiber Aurelie croc clutch. I haven’t seen you since…my Candy Land trip at Privé Extreme with Garner. She sat back in her seat, allowing her neck to fall against the headrest, enjoying Kiki’s enthusiasm over her trip. This could very well be her assistant’s happiest weekend.

Kiki held the purse in her hands. “Díma found this in your Louis Vuitton suitcase. It’s covered in dirt, but I’m drawn to it.” She set the Judith Leiber bag on her desk. “I’m not sure it’ll go with my dresses but I love it, you have the nicest things…”

Tuned out, not listening to Kiki, Taddy was staring at the bag as if someone had dropped a fat, thick, veiny cock in her face. Big Daddy’s smile, his chest and hands, his tongue and those words came to mind. There was no man similar to him. She remembered his words, “You’d like the champagne’s body to sparkle, sense initial firmness as it fills your mouth and experience a cream rush as you swallow.” As Taddy pressed her fingers to her temples, she rubbed them while staring forward. Kiki talked on and on. She shook her head. It’s lust, Taddy Brill. You’re a horny woman. Move on with it already. Taddy opened her desk’s top drawer and withdrew a pack of Nat Sherman Fantasia cigarettes. She’d quit many months ago but kept them on standby for times like this.

   
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